#ronin beaufort x reader

[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..?

[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.

𝚍𝟺𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝙼𝚌: 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 𝚊𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊 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...

[miscretis]

Discord Mod!Ronin x Discord Kitten!Reader (G.n) [PART 2 OF A CRACK FIC TAKEN SERIOUSLY]

WRITER'S NOTE:

Here's the awaited part two of a crackfic taken seriously! I hope you guys enjoy!!

CW:

- Mentions of Murder

- Cringe

“Breaking news: 3 new dead bodies were found at the Purgatory, an alleyway that the known Serial Killer, The Butcher, roams in. The government has sent out a notice for all citizens to go home safely with another friend.”

Clickety clack

You spiral down the world of words through the immersive writing of your serial killer novel. However that concentration was then interrupted by a ‘ding’. You stared down at the notification from goreboy.

This is my chance. My time to shine.

I swiftly slid into his DMs.

<goreboy> rise and Shine darlin’, How's The Server?

<User> morning to you too, the server was really something to get used to (TvT)

My hands quickly retracted away from the keyboard after sending that text. I felt elation welling inside of me, soon exploding out with a big laughter.

I can't believe it, I did it!

<goreboy> that seems Good, Hope to See More Outta Ya

<goreboy> so don't Disappoint me

Oh, he seems to not care about the typing style, I need to step it up to a level.

Maybe I need my profile to be more ‘discord kitten’

At this time and moment, I'm already mentally rolling on the floor with absolute joy filling me up with giggles. I reached for the mouse, quickly changed my status to add cute emoticons, and put my profile picture with a catfishing selfie and placed a picture of Cinnamoroll as my banner. Now I'm officially a discord kitten, ready to tackle Ronin!

<User> alright!!! I won't disappoint ÙwÚ

<goreboy> alright then, i expect More than just Bark.

One month quickly passed and you were having a blast writing your novel. You managed to craft a perfect serial killer protagonist. Brash, charismatic and manipulative. It was pretty obvious who it was based on. During your past time, you would lurk around the server, occasionally replying to some texts.

You decide to slide into Ronin’s DMs.

<User> hi ronin!! OwO

<goreboy> oh look Who's Here, it's our server's Enigma.

<User> yeeeppp! It is I, the server’s enigma! ÙvÚ

<goreboy> how amusing You Are. Well, let's play a game.

You raised your eyebrow.

<User> what game?

<goreboy> You'll see

@goreboy is calling you!

You picked up the call with no hesitation. Right in front of you was a man with wine red hair, a devil beanie and piercings. He also wore a black jacket over a skull printed shirt. He looked young— but definitely not ‘teenager young’. He looked like an adult, possibly in his mid 20s.

<User> sorry my mic is broken.

Ronin’s piercing eyes stared across the screen, his smirk crept up his face, stifling a laughter.

“Oh please! To speak the truth! I know you're trying to be a discord kitten. It's honestly so amusing to see how pathetic you are.”

“As expected of the devil, you find amusement in me trying to be a discord kitten.” You scoffed as you leaned back on your chair, “So what is this?”

“We'll be playing truth or dare. Now, pick your poison and we shall see.”

“Dare.”

Ronin leaned back on his chair and starting chuckling loudly, the audio glitches a little.

“Alright darlin, I want you to tell the server that you're in love with me.”

You felt the heat rush up to your cheeks

You tried to hide it but failing to. This made Ronin chuckle again, “What is it darling? Cat got your tongue?”

You sighed as you replied, “ Alright, bet.”

You toggled off the calling screen and went to the main channel, typing in…

<User>I've danced with the devil and now I'm obsessed.

<hitmeuppp> Omg does that mean…

<Angelic> …

You went back to the call just to see Ronin’s expression twisting in absolute euphoria.

“Alright then, my turn but I'll play it in my own way. Truth or dare.”

“Heh…dare.”

“I dare you to send me nitro and make me your discord kitten.”

Ronin smirked again, “That's two in one!”

You frowned, “I said I'll play it in my own way. It's counted as one sentence. One sentence, one dare.”

“You're one feisty little kitten. Alright darling, I'll send you some nitro.” his shit setting grin still on his face.

A second later, you received nitro from goreboy. You were surprised that he even did it however it brought joy to your heart. You could finally customise your profile to the fullest extent and use emojis from any server you're in.

“Well, thanks for that I guess.”

“Okay, my turn. True or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to give me a kiss.”

“Bet, sending you air kisses.”

You pout up your lips and fanned your hand towards the screen. Now that's an air kiss. Now it was my turn, I felt a little bolder.

“I say…dare.” Ronin leads back to his chair again.

“I dare you to tell the server that you're OBSESSED with me.”

Ronin lets out another shit eating grin and after a bit, he replies, “Done and dusted.”

You check the main channel…

<goreboy> im Obsessed with @user

<Angelic> what?

<hitmeuppp> OMG ITS TRUE

Oh my gosh, their reactions are priceless.

At this point, you were thoroughly satisfied with the outcome of the game. You decide to save the rest of the fun for another day.

“Well, that wraps it up. Bye Ronin.”

“Heh, well then. Cya soon, my darlin’ kitten.”

To be continued...

[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

[6feathered6tears6]

The Devil’s clairvoyant(Part one/?) Ronin x Reader(able to see ghost)

Trigger warnings:

Death/ghosts

You were always able to see ghosts, scaring everyone you told this fact to. You see how they died by the marks on them. The floating heads, the stab wounds, broken bones when they died. But you noticed there were a lot of ghosts nearby an alleyway. You were always tempted to go in there. Seeing why all the ghosts are getting killed. 

The ghost, Ethan, has followed you home since he found out about your abilities. He stared you down as you tried to ignore him. Well, tried. 

“What do you want,” you were annoyed about him following you. You crossed your arms as you looked up at the young male from your office chair. 

“I want peace.” He grutched out, you figured he was shy but he just sounded grouchy. “I want to know how I died.”

“If I do that, will you leave me alone then? I barely can go to the bathroom because of you.” You sighed, rubbing your temple. Ghosts always have a demand. But the ghost nods. 

On the next day, you walked into the alleyway. Graffiti lays on the walls as the same of dried blood. You cringed as you smell the blood as well. You sighed out as you heard Ethan speak up again. “Yooo, look this mark is new.” You took a look and it was more dried blood. You really wanted to leave this place. But nothing was here, you continued to walk forward until you stepped on something. You looked down and saw a leg. You slowly gazed up and saw it was Ethan. His head was bashed in by some blunt object. 

You wanted to throw up but swallowed what almost came up. “E- Ethan. I think this is yours…” You pointed at his body. 

“Oh, shit! You right, man!” He crouched near it, pointing at it. “Man, don’t I look gross.” You wanted to roll your eyes or vomit or scream. You haven’t decided yet, might pick all of the above. 

“Stop poking at your body, you are disrespecting the dead. Or at least your dead body!” You crossed your arms, taking a breath of the iron scented alleyway. As you looked up from the body, you saw all the ghosts that lay in this alleyway. They all had mixed reactions, ones that wanted to talk to you, some that looked mad, then some who looked scared.

As you were about to turn, you bumped into something, as you took a step back and looked up. You saw a male, his plum colored mullet covered by a horned beanie, his dark eyes that scream joy and curiosity, his clothing screaming punk alternative aesthetic. 

“Well, well, what drags you here?” His crowbar, that you somehow didn’t notice, was against his shoulder, ready to use at any time. “Such a darlin’ person dragged here by…” He expected an answer.

You stayed quiet for a moment, staring at his crowbar, knowing if you said the wrong thing. You would be next. “Ghosts. One called me here.”

His eyes raised for a moment before laughing. His deep chuckle sent shivers down your spine. “Ghosts? Really? What do you do then, help them to the other side?” 

You pierced your lips, “Not really.” 

A male ghost behind you grunted, “Another one? We’re too crowded to have another.” You took the chance. 

“There’s too many here, some said it’s too crowded here.” 

His eyes looked for lies, but smirked. “Really?” He laid his crowbar at your throat. “Tell me more, medium. How many do you see?” 

You turned your head to see the crowd. “Many…” You looked at him again. “Way too many for them to be in this alleyway. About a hundred(100).” 

His eyes turned serious, but the smirk stayed on his face. And he swung. As everything turned to black, you heard. “You are gonna tell me everything, medium.”

So I'm back to writing fanfiction on a new account, and after 3 years. So I'm kinda rusty, sorry if it's not good, but I promise I'll get better in time.

[elysiaheaven]

Maybe Ronin X cannibal reader? But the reader hides it and our fav boy discovers them in the middle of "grabbing dinner"?

Happy halloween!-Ronin x Cannibal reader!

TW: Blood, Gore, Cannibal (reader), Cannibal jokes, Mention of body parts etc

"Bon Appétit" — Ronin x Cannibal!Reader

Ronin always knew something was off about you. Not in a bad way—just different.

Maybe it was how you always turned down dinner invites with a lazy excuse, or how you avoided restaurants altogether like they were some kind of trap.

It was a quiet night. Too quiet for Ronin’s liking. Normally, by now, you'd be spamming his phone with some dumb memes or asking if he wanted to hang out. But you’d gone radio silent.

He moves silently, the familiarity of sneaking around fitting like a second skin. Crowbar tucked loosely in his hand, boots crunching against the dusty floor.

He rounds a corner, and there you are—squatted low, your back to him, hands deep inside a body that still twitches, like a machine winding down. Blood coats your hands, sleeves stained from wrist to elbow. And the sound—the wet, ripping tear of flesh and sinew—makes something stir in him.

You’re so focused that you don’t even hear him. It’s almost funny. Almost cute.

He leans against the doorway, a smirk slowly curling on his lips.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?"

You freeze. Every muscle in your body locks up, heart slamming in your chest. For a brief, foolish second, you think about pretending. Saying it’s not what it looks like, that you tripped and—yeah, no, that won’t work. You’ve got chunks of someone’s kidney in your hands.

Slowly, you turn your head, blood splattered across your face, meeting Ronin’s amused, knowing gaze. And shit, the way he’s looking at you—it’s not disgust, not fear. It’s something far worse: entertainment.

"Grabbing dinner without me?" he teases, cocking his head. "Kinda rude, don’t you think?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the calmness in his voice. "This isn’t... It’s not—"

Ronin cuts you off with a sharp laugh, like the situation is the funniest thing he’s seen in weeks. "Relax, sweetheart. You’re not the only freak in the room."

He steps closer, the crowbar tapping lightly against his thigh. The corpse at your feet is still fresh—blood pooling across the floor, the metallic scent thick in the air. But Ronin? He doesn’t flinch.

"Didn’t think you had it in you," he muses, crouching next to the body. His dark eyes flick between the dead man and your stained hands with an expression that can only be described as impressed. "Guess I underestimated you, huh?"

You stare at him, mind scrambling for some kind of response—some way to salvage the situation. But Ronin’s grin only widens, like he’s already five steps ahead of you.

"So... you always eat 'em like this, or is tonight a special occasion?" His voice is playful, like he’s making small talk about the weather.

"Relax, sweetheart," he interrupted smoothly, crouching down beside the dismembered body, inspecting the work with genuine curiosity. "You didn't really think you could hide this from me forever, did you?"

You shot him a glare, though it felt more like a defense mechanism than anything. "It’s not what it looks like."

“Oh no, it’s exactly what it looks like." Ronin’s grin widened. He leaned closer, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. "You’re a freak."

Your heart skipped, panic simmering beneath your skin. "Don’t tell anyone."

Ronin snorted, clearly amused by your fear. "Oh please. What am I, a snitch?" His plum-colored hair fell into his eyes as he tilted his head, studying your expression. "I’m not here to rat you out, babe. I'm here to see what makes you tick."

You didn’t know if that was more reassuring or terrifying.

Then he reached out, swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe away a streak of blood. He held his thumb up, inspecting it like an artist admiring a brushstroke. “You’re messier than I thought you’d be. Kinda cute, actually.”

You slapped his hand away, scowling. "This isn't a joke, Ronin."

“Oh, it’s not?" His grin remained infuriatingly intact. "Could’ve fooled me. You're acting like this is some big shameful secret." He gave a mock gasp, eyes wide with exaggerated horror. "Oh no! Reader’s a cannibal!"

"Ronin—" You started, but he was already laughing.

"Relax, I’m not judging." He smirked, straightening up and brushing his hands off on his pants. “Not my place to tell you how to live your life. I mean…” His gaze flickered to the half-eaten remains. “At least you have good taste.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exasperated. "You’re impossible."

“And you,” Ronin replied smugly, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your neck, "are way too cute when you’re trying to look innocent."

Your stomach twisted—whether from embarrassment, guilt, or something much darker, you weren’t sure.

Ronin knew exactly what he was doing. Knew how to make your skin crawl and your heart race all at once. And the worst part? You liked it.

He clicked his tongue, patting your cheek with mock affection. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your little secret’s safe with me."

he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, tossing you one last grin.

"You know, if you were hungry... you could've just told me."

Your breath catches, caught between the weight of his words and the dangerous glint in his eye. He tilts his head, watching your reaction with interest, like you’re some puzzle he can’t wait to solve.

"Next time," Ronin says, dragging the crowbar lightly across the floor, "let me help."

Your heart stutters at the offer—half a threat, half a promise.

Then, as casually as if he’s offering to grab takeout, he adds, "I’d love to see how you do it up close."

You blinked, stunned into silence, as he sauntered off into the night—like walking in on a literal crime scene was just another Tuesday.

And somehow, you knew—without a doubt—that this wasn’t the last time Ronin would come snooping around about this.

The next time you saw Ronin, he came bearing… gifts.

The sun had barely set when you heard a knock—three soft taps against the flimsy metal door of the same old building you'd started using as your… dining room. You knew it was him before you even opened it. Only Ronin knocked like he owned the damn place.

And sure enough, there he stood on the other side, a mischievous grin stretching across his lips. But what made your stomach drop (or maybe growl) was what—or who—he had slung over his shoulder.

"Look what I found," Ronin said cheerfully, like he was showing off a stray dog. "Nice and fresh."

The man groaned—still alive, barely—but Ronin adjusted his grip on him like he was nothing more than luggage.

You stared. "Ronin, what the hell—?"

"Relax," he cooed, brushing past you like this was some kind of surprise party. He dumped the man onto the floor with a careless thud, crouching beside him to give the guy’s cheek a little pat. "This one won’t be missed. Scumbag. Thought I’d save you the trouble."

You crossed your arms, feeling a mix of dread and something uncomfortably close to excitement swirl in your gut. "You’re really okay with this?"

Ronin shot you a sly grin, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Let’s just say… I’ve got a flexible moral code." He stood, nudging the guy with the toe of his boot. "Besides, I figured—if you're going to do this, might as well have some company, right?"

The man groaned again, half-conscious, as Ronin turned to you. His gaze softened just a little—just enough to make your stomach flip. "You gotta eat, babe."

You swallowed thickly. "I don't think—"

Ronin stepped in close, tilting his head so his lips were almost brushing your ear. "C’mon, sweetheart. No use playing shy now. You’ve already got blood on your hands."

His voice was low, warm—like a devil tempting you to cross the line you were already standing on. And the worst part? You wanted to. You really wanted to.

He leaned back, hands in his pockets, watching you with that lazy grin. "Or do I need to feed you myself?"

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. "I can handle it, idiot."

"That's the spirit," he chuckled, stepping aside to give you room to work. "Now let’s see those culinary skills in action."

The hunger gnawed at you, sharp and insistent, and before you knew it, you were crouching beside the man, the world narrowing down to the sound of his shallow breaths and the promise of iron on your tongue.

Ronin crouched next to you, utterly unbothered as you began. His hand brushed lightly against your back—comforting, almost affectionate—as if this were some intimate little date instead of… well, this.

He stayed close, watching with fascination as you fed, his smirk never wavering. When you paused to catch your breath, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he tilted his head and grinned.

"You look good like this, y’know."

"Shut up," you muttered, though the heat in your face betrayed you.

He rolled his sleeves up lazily, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, sweetheart. Open wide."

You shot him an incredulous look, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I can feed myself, Ronin."

"Yeah, yeah. But where’s the fun in that?" he teased, plucking a choice piece from the victim’s bloodied arm like he was sampling charcuterie at some upscale event. "C’mon, let me spoil you a little. You earned it."

The way his voice dipped sent a chill down your spine—like this was a game to him, and you were the star of his twisted little fantasy. It was equal parts infuriating and… intoxicating. He was good at that, pulling you in just enough to leave you breathless, unsure whether you wanted to kiss him or hit him.

"Ronin—"

Before you could protest further, he pressed the piece of flesh against your lips, grinning wickedly. "Say ‘ahh.’"

You glared, but the hunger gnawed at you relentlessly, and damn it—he looked so pleased with himself, like this was the most romantic thing he could do. With a heavy sigh, you parted your lips. His smirk widened.

"There we go," he murmured, almost reverently, as he slipped the morsel into your mouth. "Tastes better when someone feeds you, right?"

The warmth of the meat, the metallic tang still lingering on your tongue—it sent shivers down your spine. But the worst part wasn’t the taste. It was him. The way he looked at you with a blend of admiration and possession, like you were his favorite meal.

"Good, yeah?" he whispered, as if he needed the confirmation.

You bit down slowly, savoring the taste and the strange thrill of it all. He watched every movement—eyes dark and full of satisfaction—like he'd just pulled off the most intimate act in the world. And maybe, in his twisted way, he had.

"See?" he whispered, wiping a stray drop of blood from your lip with his thumb. "Told you I’d take care of you."

You swallowed, the heat in your chest spreading, equal parts shame and satisfaction.

"You're enjoying this way too much," you muttered, voice low.

Ronin just chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "And you love that about me."

And as much as you hated to admit it… he wasn’t wrong.

He fed you again, slow and deliberate, like this was some dark, sacred ritual between the two of you. Each bite came with a grin, each touch a silent promise—he would never judge you for what you were. Hell, he loved it. He thrived on it, the corruption, the intimacy, the shared depravity.

When the meal was over, you leaned back, exhaling a shaky breath. Ronin wiped your mouth again, his touch lingering.

"Feel better?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

"Yeah," you admitted reluctantly.

His grin widened, a spark of triumph flashing in his eyes. "Good." He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. "Next time, I’ll pick someone even better."

You knew you should feel horrified. You knew you should push him away. But instead, you smiled.

"Deal."

Now, you know Ronin wasn't the man of his words. He's a snitch. That just told your secret to Angel, You know both of them were close, You just felt happy Ronin could share some things from his chest.

But, he did snitch you.

Happily, Angel was your type so, same blood in the same habit?

Later in the server. In the channel where all past Ronin's past and present love interests reside (literally)

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

[Angelic]- I can't believe you're actually a cannibal y/n...

[You]- Fucking Beaufort.

[Goreboy]- Darlin, you Have a Friend now. Angel will be very happy right now. she has gotten a new best friend.

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

[Goreboy]- I'm not, This just Made Y/n x 666 Interesting! I have a new Goal.

[You]- lemme guess, another 666 kills?

[Goreboy]- Ding Ding, Have you ever eaten a detective? Your deduction skills are ultimate. You're Right, But, It's for you. 666 kills for you darlin! Be prepared. As a good Boyfriend it's only Valid that I gift you something Like this. Mark NeXT's year V-day.

[You]- .......................

[Angelic]- Never thought, He will become seriously damned this much.

[Goreboy]- Tho, It's interesting how the past lover and the present lover is both Cannibal. My god this is a miracle.

[Angelic]- Hey, Y/n? Have wanna the devil for dinner? He's speaking too much isn't he?

[You]- Be my guest angel, Also yes.

[Goreboy]- Getting Eaten by Two Angels. No Thank You. This is such a Boring Way to Die.

[You]- then just shut the fuck up edgy-boi

[Goreboy]- You Have to Face my Bullshit Darlin, Be prepared from now On, Cause shit- you need to realize it's a Lifetime relationship.

[You]- Thank god, I took lessons from Miss Ai hua to deal with people like you. Apparently she used to use memes to shut up Mr. Vince,

[Goreboy]- Oh? You think A meme? can Stop me?

[You]- I believe it's the person in the meme is our god 'twink'

[Angelic]- I get it.

[You]- Ronin, I love you but God Christ, Please shut up for now.

If you speak tormenting me and angel, I will compare you to JD because of the twink reason. If you think the meme was unfunny. I wasn't talking about the meme Mr. Beaufort.

[Goreboy]- ........

I cease.

Congrats, you made the devil to shut up! HAPPY HALLOWEEN LOSER!

[elysiaheaven]

do you take requests? if you do, could i request ronin with a jirai kei/landmine mc? (landmine is typically used to refer to a girl (although, it can also be a guy) who is mentally unwell and on the verge of exploding, usually someone with bpd or bipolar)

if not, i 100% understand 😊

hi! I'm really tried my best to research if it's not accurate I'm so sorry.. also it's so cringe I made it so fluff imaooo

Words:1000!

Summary: you are bandaging him after a small accident

Genre: Fluff

Devotion-Ronin x G.N reader ^^

The air in your small apartment stinks of antiseptic. You’re kneeling on the stained carpet, frantically wrapping Ronin’s arm in gauze, trying to keep his skin together before the bleeding gets worse. His grin—obnoxious, smug, and endlessly irritating—remains intact despite the gash running from his shoulder down to his elbow.

“Should’ve seen it, babe. You should’ve seen how his face split open,” he chuckles, his voice raspy and far too casual for someone who just narrowly escaped murder charges. “I swear, it was art.”

You yank the bandage tighter than necessary, making him flinch.

"Ow. Easy, sweetheart."

“Shut up,” you snap, the sharpness in your voice cutting through the room like a knife. Your fingers tremble as you fasten the gauze into place, rage bubbling in your chest, threatening to boil over. It’s like every nerve in your body is frayed, ready to snap in half. “Just shut the hell up, Ronin. For five seconds. Do you know how close you were to getting caught? I had to drag your stupid body out of there!”

He doesn’t even flinch at the outburst. In fact, his grin grows wider, eyes gleaming with some twisted amusement. He’s enjoying this—the way you’re unraveling in front of him like a ribbon being pulled too hard from both ends.

“You’re so cute when you yell,” he says, leaning his head back against the wall, as if you aren't seething just inches away. "All dolled up in that pretty skirt, screaming like a little time bomb. God, I love you."

You grab a loose pillow from the couch and throw it at his face.

The pillow bounces off Ronin’s chest, but he catches it effortlessly, laughing softly under his breath. The sound grates on your nerves like nails on glass. You shove his shoulder—his injured shoulder—and he winces, though the grin never leaves his face.

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop—”

Before you can finish, he moves faster than you expect. His uninjured arm snakes around your waist, yanking you against him, despite your furious squirming. “What didja think, huh? That you were just gonna walk out on me?” His voice drops, a teasing drawl laced with menace, his words slithering into your ear.

"Let me go," you hiss, thrashing against his hold, but it’s no use. He tightens his grip, holding you firm like he’s cradling something precious that might shatter at any moment—and, God, maybe you will. The tension coiled inside you, the pressure building up like a bomb, is unbearable.

“Not happening, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to the top of your head, a mockery of tenderness. “Where else would you go, huh? You need me just as much as I need you.”

You hate how his words crawl under your skin, how they make you freeze for a moment too long. He knows exactly which buttons to push, exactly how to sink his claws in. You’ve tried so hard to stay composed, to keep the storm inside at bay, but with Ronin, the cracks in your armor spread faster than you can patch them.

"Don’t…" your voice falters, but you push at him again, weaker this time. "Don’t act like you care." The frustration and sadness twist together, tightening your chest like barbed wire. You hate him for making you feel this raw, this open.

“Oh, I care, darlin’. I care so much it hurts.” His hand slides up your back, slow and deliberate, grounding you even as you try to shove him away again. "That’s why you patched me up, didn’t you? You were scared."

"You almost got caught," you whisper, barely keeping it together. Your breathing’s erratic, the words stumbling out in broken pieces. "And now I’m stuck here… cleaning up your mess… again."

Ronin’s hand drifts up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His thumb traces the edge of your lips with a gentleness that makes your stomach turn. "You don’t have to fight me, sweetheart. I like you exactly the way you are—messy, angry, perfect.”

And that’s the worst part: You know he means it. He loves the chaos, feeds off it. Every time you teeter on the edge of breaking, he pulls you closer, cradling your madness like it’s something beautiful. And it scares you—how easily you could fall apart in his arms, how much you want to.

You sag against him, exhausted from the struggle, your body giving out before your mind can. Ronin’s arms tighten around you, holding you like a lifeline, like he knew all along you’d give in.

“There you go, Darling” he murmurs, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "I’ve got you."

You lean into Ronin’s embrace, the tension in your muscles slowly unraveling as you sink against him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill of your frayed nerves. The soft thump of your heart beats steadily in your ears, a chaotic rhythm matching the swirl of emotions fighting for dominance within you.

“I know, I know,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, almost conspiratorial, as if he’s sharing a secret meant only for you. “You’re a walking time bomb, but that’s what makes you so interesting.” He leans back slightly, just enough to catch your gaze, his devilish smirk never fading. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to watch a beautiful disaster unfold?”

You scowl at him, not in the mood for his games. “You think this is funny? You’re the reason I’m falling apart.”

Ronin chuckles softly, clearly amused. “Oh, babe, it’s way more entertaining than funny. You’re like a high-wire act without a safety net. Plus,” he adds, nudging your shoulder with his, “it’s not like I’m the one keeping secrets in a bloody basement.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You don’t get it. This is real for me.” The shadows of your bipolar disorder loom large, threatening to engulf you. Some days, you can handle everything—navigate the chaos, juggle the highs and lows—but other days? It’s like being caught in a whirlwind, and right now, it feels like you’re spiraling toward the edge.

Ronin’s expression shifts, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more earnest. “Then let’s just be a mess together, yeah?” His fingers brush against your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “I mean, we can be extra dysfunctional, and I’m all in."

“Dysfunctional isn’t the half of it,” you mutter, your voice softer, the edge of your anger dulling as you look into his dark eyes, searching for a flicker of understanding.

“Ah, but that’s where the fun lies.” He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, teasingly whispering, “Besides, being a little devilish is my specialty. It’s like… embracing the chaos instead of running from it.”

You want to resist his allure, the way he pulls you in with every word, but there’s an undeniable comfort in his presence. He seems to understand the storm raging inside you, even when you barely grasp it yourself. “What if I explode?” you ask, half-joking, half-terrified of the reality that sits beneath the surface.

“Then I’ll catch you,” he promises, deadpan, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. “And we’ll make a real mess of things. I’ll grab a mop, and you can scream all you want. Just don’t think for a second that I’d let you go.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a fraction. “You’re impossible.”

“Exactly.” He leans back against the wall, still cradling you in his arms. “And that’s why you love me.”

You push at his shoulder playfully, but there’s no real force behind it. “I don’t love you. I tolerate you.”

“Oh, please.” He raises an eyebrow, grinning like a cat who just caught the canary. “You’re wrapped around my finger, darling. But that’s okay; I like you a little unhinged.”

“Unhinged?” you echo, the term sending a shiver through you. It’s a label you often grapple with, one that feels too close to home.

“Yeah, it’s like a badge of honor.” His eyes gleam as he continues, “You’re wild, unpredictable, and a bit of a mess. It’s like your own personal chaos aesthetic.” He lifts his hands in mock exaggeration, as if you’re some rare work of art. “And don’t forget—you’re mine. I can handle the explosion.”

His confidence in you is infuriating, but also oddly reassuring. You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You really think I can just… manage it all?”

Ronin nods, his gaze unwavering. “Of course. It’s all about balance, babe. You’ve got the fire; I’ve got the chaos. Together, we’re a beautiful disaster.”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep me around. See? That makes you the worst, too.” His smirk returns, cocky and playful. “You’re just as twisted as I am.”

“Not even close,” you retort, but the laughter in your voice betrays you.

He pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You just wait, sweetheart. I’ll help you embrace your wild side. You’ll see.”

The uncertainty lingers, but for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace, comforted by the warmth and chaos he brings. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for today.

You sink deeper into Ronin's embrace, the tension easing from your shoulders as his warmth envelops you. Your mind is still a jumble of emotions, but the soft fabric of your oversized hoodie—a faded black with intricate, pastel-hued patches—feels comforting against your skin.

“Nice hoodie, babe. I love how you rock that look,” Ronin said sarcastically, his fingers grazing the delicate lace trim at the sleeves. “So perfectly chaotic. It’s like you’re ready to explode at any moment.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile threatens to break through. “It’s called style. Not everything has to be about violence, you know.” Your hoodie hangs off one shoulder, exposing the frilly strap of the pink lace tank underneath. You feel ridiculous, and yet… it’s part of who you are.

Ronin chuckles, tugging playfully at the hem of your hoodie. “It’s a cute look. That top is like a warning sign, and the ruffles are practically screaming for attention.” His tone is teasing, but there's a hint of sincerity behind it that makes your heart flutter.

“Like your bloody bandages aren’t attention-grabbing enough?” you shoot back, gesturing toward the makeshift dressing he’s wrapped around his arm. You can’t help but notice how the contrast between your softer, pastel colors and his dark attire highlights the chaos you both embody. His signature look—black ripped jeans, a loose maroon tee, and a battered leather jacket—only enhances his devil-may-care attitude.

“Hey, it’s all about the aesthetic,” he says, his grin wide and unapologetic. “You can’t have a true chaos vibe without a little blood, after all.”

You snort, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. “You’re such a punk.”

“And you’re my..darling.” he retorts, the wicked glint in his eyes making you blush. “Just think of it this way: We’re the perfect match. You’re the ticking time bomb in frills and lace, and I’m the charming devil.”

The juxtaposition of your two styles feels almost poetic in its absurdity. Your layered fishnet stockings peek out from beneath your frayed mini skirt, adorned with silver hardware and mismatched patches that tell stories of their own. Each piece of clothing is a reflection of your inner turmoil, each stitch a reminder of the battles fought and the scars worn like badges.

“Do you really think I’m cute like this?” you ask, vulnerability creeping into your voice. It’s not something you often share, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he’s studying you.

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re beautiful, even with..."

The soft fabric of your oversized T-shirt brushes against Ronin’s arm, the pastel pink covered in faint rips and band logos, a perfect reflection of your chaotic style. The high-waisted black skirt, shorts you wear flares slightly as you shift, the hem adorned with delicate lace that clashes and complements your chaotic aesthetic all at once.

You roll your eyes, the playful banter bringing a flicker of warmth to your cheeks. “Shut up. At least I’m not wearing a beanie indoors.”

“Hey, this beanie is a fashion statement,” he replies, his tone dripping with mock indignation as he pats the plum-colored fabric atop his head. “It keeps the artistic vibes alive, you know?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you glance down at your outfit. The contrast of your clothes—delicate ruffles and lace with a touch of punk rock—makes you feel both fierce and fragile, just like your mind. The jirai kei aesthetic reflects you.. it's just your style..

“See? You’re practically a walking art piece.” Ronin shifts slightly, cradling you tighter against him, his thumb tracing the edge of your lace-trimmed collar. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to have a person like you on their arm?”

You huff, your expression softening despite your best efforts. “Just because I wear ruffles doesn’t mean I’m not capable of causing chaos.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice low, and suddenly serious. “That’s what I love about you. You’re a contradiction, and it’s beautiful.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. You want to protest, to throw his words back at him, but instead, you find yourself melting further into his embrace. You can feel the tension in your body start to dissolve, even as the swirling storm in your mind rages on.

“Do you remember the first time I saw you in a stupid call?” Ronin continues, a playful lilt returning to his voice. “You were wearing that black and white striped shirt with a collar—adorable, and yet I could tell there was something simmering underneath.”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop staring at me..I think?" you shoot back, trying to redirect the conversation, but the warmth in your chest only grows.

“It was the combination of the pastel colors,” he says, pretending to think deeply. “You looked like a cute little time bomb, just waiting to go off.”

Your cheeks flush again, and you fight the urge to bury your face in his chest. “Stop it.”

“Nope,” he says with a playful grin. “I’ll never stop. You’re like a little —adorable on the outside, and then boom!” He gestures dramatically, hands exploding outward as if reenacting your metaphorical detonation.

You can’t help but laugh, even though a part of you is still tense, a storm cloud brewing in the background. “I am not like that! I mean it's we....”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone teasing yet tender, “you definitely are. But that just makes me want to be around you more. I’ll be here when you go off. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shift your weight slightly, the hem of your clothing brushing against his jeans. “You might want to reconsider that.”

“Never. I’m addicted to your chaos.” He smirks, running a finger along the edge of your lace. “And besides, I think you need a little devilish distraction in your life.”

“Distraction?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Or danger?”

“Both. It’s a package deal,” he winks, the devil-may-care attitude shining through. “And trust me, with your flair for the dramatic and my penchant for chaos, we’ll create our own beautiful mess.”

You breathe in deeply, the tension slowly ebbing away as you absorb his playful confidence. The combination of your styles—his dark punk vibes and your jirai kei flair—creates a unique blend that feels so distinctly you.

“I guess I’m lucky to have you around to catch me when I explode,” you say, a soft smile breaking through the storm clouds in your mind.

“You bet,” he replies, his grin wide and mischievous. “But don’t think for a second I won’t enjoy the explosion, darling. I thrive in the chaos; I’ve told you before.”

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress a giggle, “You’re incorrigible.”

“True, but you love it.” He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You shift slightly in Ronin’s embrace, the soft couch enveloping you like a cocoon, but the clock on the wall catches your eye. It’s getting late, and a wave of anxiety washes over you. “I really should head home,” you say reluctantly, glancing towards the door.

“Why?” He looks at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve already made a mess of my heart, darling. You think I’ll let you just waltz out of here?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the weight of your worries lightening for a moment. “I don’t want to disturb you, Ronin. I mean, you probably have… things to do.”

“Things to do?” He quirks an eyebrow, feigning incredulity. “What could possibly be more interesting than this?” He gestures dramatically around the room as if it’s a grand stage, but the intensity in his gaze is undeniable. “Just stay. I promise I won’t bite—much.”

You feel a flutter of excitement mixed with anxiety. “I don’t know. It’s late…”

“Please?” he adds, his voice lowering, taking on a soft, coaxing tone that makes your heart race. “Just stay a little longer. What’s the harm in that?”

Your resolve wavers, and you can feel the familiar tug of his devilish charm pulling you closer. “I really should…” you start, but he interrupts, playfully pushing you down on the couch. You can’t help but gasp as he pins you gently against the cushions, his body hovering over yours.

“What was that about going home?” he whispers, his face inches from yours, the warmth radiating from him sending shivers down your spine. Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing softness.

“Stay,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you again, deeper this time, his fingers tangling in your hair as if anchoring you to this moment.

You melt into him, the taste of him overwhelming your senses—spicy and sweet, the essence of him intoxicating. His kisses are fervent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels without words.

You push against him slightly, your thoughts a chaotic swirl, but the way he holds you tight makes it hard to think straight. “Ronin…” you whisper, but he kisses you again, silencing your protests.

In that moment, nothing else matters. Your worries slip away, replaced by the warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze. You pull him closer, surrendering to the need building inside you. His kisses become a frantic melody, a rhythm that drowns out your thoughts and worries.

You realize you’ve given up the argument, leaning into him, the hesitation fading away. This is where you want to be—lost in the chaos, the devilish embrace of someone who understands your darkness. No words are needed; the warmth of his kisses speaks volumes, each one whispering a promise of what could be.

Ronin’s hold on you tightens, a possessive gesture that makes your heart race even faster. He can be so devilish, and yet, here in this moment, everything feels just right.

[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 😭😭

[elysiaheaven]

"Pure Insatiablity"-[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓-2] 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐆.𝐍 (Yandere) 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓)

Words:

Genre: Yandere/Fluff

Summary: After a small smooch session, You decided to ask him on a first date that is outside to an ice cream shop. You sadly realized how much your book is affected the 'simps' be careful, some people just might eye his aesthetic! You have a small motive too Mission : Invite him to a sleepover!

( 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!!

You and Ronin walked through the quiet streets, the echo of your footsteps bouncing off the alley walls. His hand gripped yours with just enough pressure to remind you of his presence. He was always like that—an anchor, pulling you deeper into his orbit, and you couldn’t help but sink further in your love with him.

But something nagged at you. It wasn’t jealousy, peruse, but curiosity. How did Angel deal with this devil. Some tips to make yourself interesting You bit your lip, trying to work up the nerve to ask.

"Ronin…" you started hesitantly, your voice small, but he just glanced at you, his eyebrow raised, as if daring you to continue.

"How was it… you and Angel? You know, when you were together?"

He didn’t respond immediately, his pace unchanged as you walked. For a moment, you thought he might ignore you altogether, but then he sighed, a slow, deliberate sound, his lips curling up into a dark smile.

"Keep thinkin’ about it in that pretty stupid little head of yours, darlin’," he teased, his voice dripping with that post-ironic bite that was so him. "But fine, if you really wanna know…" His tone shifted as he spoke, and you could tell he wasn’t playing games this time. His gaze turned cold, distant, like he was pulling from memories he wasn’t entirely comfortable revisiting.

"I felt safe with her, y’know?" He said it so casually, but there was something deeper in his words. "She was like… a reflection of something I couldn’t have anymore. I was projectin' Ther—onto her. Still got a lotta unprocessed shit about them. It's just two people were broken tryin to fix each other."

You blinked, trying to process that. "Ther?" You whispered. Yeah, you knew he mentioned it. Forsaken town, First love.

His grip on your hand tightened, and for a second, his eyes flashed with something colder than usual. "Stop carin’," he muttered, his voice sharp. "You’re askin’ all these stupid questions and you’re gonna get lost in ‘em. That what you want? To drown in this obsession you’ve got for me? ‘Cause I’ll let you. But stop stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and suddenly you felt that lovesick haze wrapping around your mind again, his voice pulling you deeper into it. You forgot, almost instantly, what you had just been talking about. All you could focus on was him. His presence, his voice, the way his hand felt against yours. Your mind whirled, caught in the spiral of your adoration for him.

He noticed, of course. He always did. He gave you that dark smile again, the one that told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"Why’d you even ask about Angel, huh?" His tone was challenging now, mocking, as if daring you to admit what you were really thinking.

"I… I just wanted to understand," you stammered, looking down at the ground. "I wanted to know how she was with you. For… tips."

He stopped walking then, turning to face you fully. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Tips for what, baby? You plannin’ somethin’ for Angel? If you do, I will have a reason to abuse my crowbar." His voice dropped, a dark serious tone....

You shook your head furiously, eyes wide. "No, no! I would never!" You gasped, the thought of hurting Angel—a sweetheart, someone who had been nothing but kind to you—making you feel sick. "Even if I’m crazy, I wouldn’t hurt her. She’s… she’s too nice. I care about her too much, Ronin."

You said it softly, almost to yourself, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. Your mind spun with the thought of Angel, how she’d always looked out for you, tried her best to help you, even when you were too far gone in your obsession with Ronin to notice sometimes.

Ronin watched you, that cold gaze of his never faltering. "That so?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "And here I thought you didn’t care ‘bout anyone but me."

"I don’t care about impressing you with that," you blurted, shaking your head again, a desperate edge to your voice. "I don’t need to do something crazy to make you notice me. I just… I have to be someone. Someone you find interesting. Someone who stands out, right?"

Ronin’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he whispered, "You’re already like someone when you’re just normal."

You didn’t hear him—your mind too clouded, too wrapped up in him to catch the whisper.

You perked up suddenly, your eyes lighting up as a new thought crossed your mind. "Oh! I just remembered something!" you chirped, unable to contain your excitement.

Ronin raised an eyebrow, clearly not as enthusiastic as you were. "What now, darlin’?" he asked, voice tinged with mild annoyance, though he couldn’t quite hide the curiosity in his eyes.

"There’s a new ice cream shop near my place!" you said, practically bouncing on your heels. "We could go there, y’know? You could stash your stupid crowbar at my place, and then we can grab some ice cream. It'll be fun!"

For a moment, Ronin looked genuinely taken aback. His usual cold expression faltered, his eyes narrowing in what you could only describe as confusion. He stared at you, silent, and the longer he didn’t say anything, the more you started to worry. You bit your lip, fidgeting under his gaze.

"Ronin…?" you asked softly, concern creeping into your voice. "Are you… okay?"

His expression hardened, and he shook his head with a low chuckle, though there was something off about it. "You stalked me or somethin’ when I was a kid, huh? You have been to angeltown?" His tone was dry, almost mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something else—something more vulnerable, hidden beneath the layers of sarcasm.

"What?" You blinked, genuinely confused. "No! What are you talking about?"

"It’s nothin’," he muttered, eyes flicking away from yours as if he didn’t want to explain any further. "Just… remembered somethin’. Forget it."

But in truth, he was remembering something far more personal than he’d ever let on. Back in his small hometown, there was an old ice cream shop he used to frequent with his childhood best friend—his first love, Ther. They would go there all the time, sneaking off after school, sharing laughs and stolen glances over melting cones. His favorite flavor had been apple crumble, and somehow, that preference had stuck with him all these years, even as everything else changed.

It was a memory he didn’t care to revisit, especially not with you looking at him like that, all wide-eyed and hopeful, dragging him into your bright, pretty world.

"Okay," he finally said, voice low and resigned. He glanced down at you, and you could see the walls he always kept up, the ones you couldn’t ever fully break down.

Your eyes widened in excitement, your heart fluttering at the thought of something so simple, yet so intimate. Your first date with him—ice cream! "Oh my god, this is gonna be our first ice cream together!" you squealed, barely containing yourself. You tried to act cute, hoping for a rare smile from him.

But Ronin just sighed deeply, as if the very idea was exhausting. "Shut up," he muttered, his hand briefly ruffling your hair before pulling away. "So hopeless..."

"I’m sorry," you whispered, though you couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at your lips. "Hehe."

He rolled his eyes and just started walking ahead, his crowbar resting over his shoulder, not even bothering to check if you were following. Of course, you hurried to catch up, practically bouncing along next to him, whispering little apologies under your breath, giggling to yourself.

You reached your small, somewhat sad-looking house, a modest place nestled in the shadow of larger buildings. It wasn’t much, but it was yours, and right now, You turned to him, practically vibrating with excitement, pushing him lightly. "Come on, come in! Don’t be such a grump."

He looked at the house, then back at you, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t said a word about how unimpressive it was, but the way his eyes flicked over everything made you feel self-conscious for a moment. You almost wanted to apologize for it, but then again, this was Ronin. If he cared about things like that, you wouldn’t be here at all.

You changed the subject quickly, "They have apple crumble at the ice cream place, you know! It’s their famous flavor! But! we can try your fav too!"

Ronin’s gaze snapped back to you, and for a second, there was something unreadable in his eyes. His face hardened again as he narrowed his eyes at you. "How the hell do you know that’s my favorite flavor, darlin’?"

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "I didn’t! I just… It’s their famous one! I didn't know..!" You laughed awkwardly, hoping to shake off whatever tension had crept into the conversation.

But Ronin wasn’t letting it go. He stared at you, his expression shifting to one of suspicion. "You messin’ with me or somethin’? Huh?"

"What?" you said, confused and a little thrown off by his sudden shift in tone. "No! I wouldn’t—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off, "Forget it." He shook his head, almost like he was trying to shake off the conversation. "This is stupid. I don’t wanna go."

You could feel the excitement you’d built up start to deflate. You frowned slightly, watching him as he crossed his arms, his crowbar still hanging loosely from one hand. "Ronin, c’mon," you said softly, trying to calm him down. "Just relax a little, okay? Leave the crowbar here, at least. You don’t want people thinking you’re the Butcher, right?"

He gave you a look, his lips twitching upward in a smirk. "What, afraid the boys in blue are gonna catch me, darlin’?"

"Yes!" you exclaimed, a bit exasperated but still with a smile. "Just… humor me, alright? We don’t need the extra attention."

He chuckled darkly, looking at you with that familiar devilish glint in his eyes. "So careful… It’s sad, really. But I ain’t stupid. I know how to keep safe." He turned his head away, glancing toward the alley like he was already plotting his next escape route.

"Okay, then," you said, pressing him gently, trying to get him to focus. "So let’s go. Ice cream, remember?"

Ronin sighed heavily, dragging the crowbar along the ground for a moment before he finally propped it against your front step. "Christ, stop with the annoyin’—" He stopped himself, his voice cutting off mid-sentence as his gaze fell on you.

Your eyes met his, wide and pleading, and something in them seemed to stop him in his tracks. He looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening just a fraction. "Again with those eyes," he muttered, almost to himself. "Stop lookin’ at me like that."

"Like what?" you asked, confused and a little concerned by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

"Like that," he said, his voice lower now, a whisper that carried an edge of frustration. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "It’s too damn similar."

You blinked at him, more confused than ever. "Similar to what?"

He didn’t answer you, just stood there for a moment, his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he exhaled sharply, like he was forcing himself to drop whatever thought was running through his head. "It’s childish," he muttered. "This whole thing is stupid."

But even as he said it, Ronin pushed past you, walking toward the alley ahead of you like he had already given in. You smiled, hurrying to catch up with him, practically bouncing with excitement. This was a small victory—getting him to go, even if he was acting like it was a chore.

You tried to play it off, walking beside him and giving him a sidelong glance. "You don’t have to go if you really don’t want to, you know."

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips curling into a smirk. "Shut up, darlin’. You dragged me into this, now I’m gonna see it through."

You grinned, a blush creeping up your neck. "Okay, okay, I’ll stop talking. But… thanks for coming with me. I know it’s kinda… silly."

Ronin didn’t respond right away. He just kept walking, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his expression unreadable. After a few moments, he glanced over at you again, and for the briefest second, you thought you saw something softer beneath the usual cold exterior.

"Y’know," he said quietly, his voice almost too low to hear, "you’re more like someone than you realize. When you’re not actin’ all… lovesick."

You blinked at him, confused by his words. "What do you mean?"

He didn’t elaborate, just kept walking ahead, his pace quickening slightly as if he wanted to put some distance between you and the conversation. You furrowed your brows, wondering what he meant, but you didn’t press him. You were just happy he was here, with you, even if you didn’t understand everything that went through his head.

Ronin, hands in his pockets, posture effortlessly cool. He carried himself like the devil he pretended to be—like nothing ever fazed him. But you saw through it. You always did.

You smiled softly to yourself, tilting your head. "Did you miss me?" you asked, your voice innocent but layered with a lovesick longing that was impossible to hide. You always wanted to hear him say it, wanted him to acknowledge that he thought about you when you weren’t around.

Ronin’s smirk twitched. He was quick with his answer, too quick. "I was good. Y’know, like... I’m fine, darlin’." His voice was casual, but the way he flicked his gaze away from you betrayed him. He thought he was hiding it so well, but you could see the cracks. He wasn’t as cool and unaffected as he pretended to be.

You pursed your lips, a playful frown creasing your forehead as you watched him closely. "V lied about that too, didn’t he?" you pressed, your eyes narrowing just a little. "He told me you were fine without me, but... were you really okay, Ronin? With not talking to me?"

Your voice softened, a trace of vulnerability slipping through. You wanted to know the truth, wanted to hear it from him, even though you already suspected the answer.

Ronin’s jaw clenched, his hands digging deeper into his pockets. He was trying so hard to keep up the act, but you knew him too well. "I didn’t need to talk, I had to fuck up some cars." he said, his tone rougher than before, trying to deflect. "I was busy, y’know. Cleaning up my victims and all that." He shot you a devilish grin, trying to distract you with his usual dark humor. He wanted to keep it light, to rise you up out of your lovesick thoughts, but you could see right through him.

"Cleaning your victims, huh?" You let out a small laugh, tilting your head again as you walked a little closer to him, almost bumping his shoulder with yours. "Ronin, don’t lie to me. I know you better than that." Your voice was soft, gentle, but there was a certainty in it that made his attempt to dodge the question crumble even more.

He stopped walking for a second, glancing at you, his eyes darting to meet yours before looking away just as quickly. "It’s your fault I had to come out, you know?" he muttered, but the playful edge in his voice didn’t fully mask the truth. "I was layin’ low, had a good streak goin’, but no, you had to drag me back out, didn’t ya, darlin’? You should be sorry for ruining it."

"Sorry for ruining your perfect streak," you whispered, grinning despite the mock seriousness of his tone. But there was something in his words that made your heart skip a beat, something in the way he was still here with you, in the way he hadn’t really wanted to stay away.

He turned his head to look at you, and for a moment, his smirk faltered, his eyes flicking up and down as if he were sizing you up. "Grow some spine, will ya? You’re actin’ all pathetic," he teased, but there was no real venom in his voice. Just that post-ironic attitude, the way he tried so hard to play the role of the devilish rogue, but underneath it, you could feel the truth.

And it was so sweet, so Ronin. He thought he was being smooth, but you could see the cracks in his armor, and it only made you love him more.

"I’m not pathetic," you whispered, your heart fluttering as you took another step closer to him. "You missed me, didn’t you?" Your voice was lovesick, hopelessly romantic, like you were clinging to every word, every chance he’d let slip that maybe, just maybe, you meant something to him.

Ronin huffed, rolling his eyes, but his lips twitched again, betraying the fact that he couldn’t quite keep up the act. "You’re makin’ this harder than it needs to be, darlin’. I’m tellin’ ya, I was fine."

You smiled softly, tilting your head as you gazed up at him, your eyes soft with affection. "You weren’t fine," you said gently. "You missed me, didn’t you?"

He stopped walking again, his gaze locking onto yours. There was a brief silence, just the sound of your footsteps on the pavement and the distant hum of the city. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you, trying to keep up the facade, trying to maintain that devil-may-care attitude he always wore like a mask.

But you could see it, the way his eyes softened just a little, the way his posture relaxed ever so slightly. He was trying so hard to hide it, but he wasn’t doing a very good job.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

You giggled softly, feeling your heart swell with affection. "I knew it."

Ronin’s lips twitched again, and he glanced away, trying to regain his composure. "Stop actin’ so smug about it," he grumbled, but there was no real bite in his words. He was giving in, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

"You’re just my Ronin," you whispered, your voice full of that lovesick adoration that made him roll his eyes, but deep down, you knew he didn’t mind it as much as he pretended to.

You entered the small, brightly lit ice cream shop, a chime from the door announcing your arrival. The cool air hit your skin as you walked in, but something about the place felt off immediately. It wasn’t the place itself—it was the way every pair of eyes inside turned to look at Ronin the second he stepped through the door. The cashiers at the counter, the waitstaff, even a few customers… all of them paused, their gazes lingering on him for just a second too long, whispering and giggling among themselves.

Ronin noticed too, but, in typical fashion, he didn’t seem to care. He just strolled in like he owned the place, finding a booth in the corner and sitting down casually, his back resting against the wall. You followed, but as you took your seat across from him, you could feel your frustration building. Those eyes on him… the way they looked at him like he was some kind of sideshow attraction—it made your skin crawl.

You glanced at him, but he seemed perfectly at ease, arms stretched out along the back of the booth, his lips twitching into a faint smirk as he scanned the menu lazily. "So," he drawled, flicking his gaze up to meet yours. "What’re you having’?"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes still scanning the room, catching more of those glances, more of those giggles from across the counter. Why were they looking at him like that? Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe it was… something else. You forced yourself to focus and asked, “What do you want?”

Ronin leaned forward just slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Apple crumble," he said, his voice low and teasing, like it was some private joke. He knew you’d catch the significance.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to stay composed, biting your lip as you glanced at the menu. "I… I don’t know what I want," you mumbled, feeling a little lost in your thoughts.

Ronin gave you a long, unreadable look, then leaned back again, his expression softening for just a second before he shrugged. "Get that 'flavor-name,' Ain’t it your favorite?"

You blinked, surprised. "Y-yeah, it is…" You smiled softly, nodding, but there was something distant about his expression, something faraway that flickered across his eyes for just a moment before he bounced back, his devil-may-care smirk returning. You were about to ask him what that was when a waitress appeared at your table.

She was all smiles, her attention laser-focused on Ronin like you weren’t even there. "Hi there! What can I get for you?" she asked, completely ignoring you. Your fingers clenched into fists under the table, a wave of irritation bubbling up inside you. But before you could say anything, Ronin answered, his tone cool and detached.

"Apple crumble."

The waitress giggled, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "That’s a great choice! Is your style, like, inspired by that serial killer book? You know, the one with the guy who—" She trailed off, giggling again, clearly trying to flirt.

Your heart dropped. You knew exactly what she was talking about. It was your book. The one you’d written, the one where the main character was based on none other than Ronin himself. And these idiots didn’t even realize it was you sitting right there. But of course, they’d recognized the clothing style—his whole look was...written by you the way you saw him!, the subtle touches only someone who knew would notice.

Before you could snap at her, tell her to fuck off and that it was your book, Ronin spoke up, his tone dark and playful. "Well, I know the writer personally," he said, his gaze drifting toward you with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Got plenty of inspiration, actually. And I think the writer did a damn fine job… wouldn't you say?"

The waitress, clueless, just laughed, her eyes still locked on Ronin. "Wow, really? Well, they must be really good at what they do!" She leaned in slightly, biting her lip. "You’re cute, you know that? I bet they wrote the character to be onto someone like me, huh?"

That was it. You snapped.

"Could you fuck off? you growled, your voice low and dangerous, every ounce of your lovesick adoration for Ronin now tinged with a fiery possessiveness. "I don’t care if you thinks he's-cute—I have money, and I’m not here for your stupid comments."

The waitress blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden outburst. She let out a small huff and muttered something under her breath before walking off to place your order, but it was too late. Your anger was already burning hot, threatening to bubble over into something darker, something primal.

Ronin chuckled, his gaze sliding back to you, his eyes filled with that same devilish amusement. "Feelin’ a little murderous, are we, darlin’?" he teased, leaning forward, his voice a low purr. "You looked like you were about to tear her apart. Got something you wanna share?"

You clenched your jaw, trying to calm the storm inside you, but it was so hard when he was right there, taunting you, pushing all the right buttons like he always did. "I just…" You swallowed, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotions. "I just can’t stand the way she looked at you. Like she had a chance."

Ronin smirked, leaning back in his seat again. "So, you’re jealous, huh? That’s cute. Really cute."

"Shut up," you muttered, but your voice lacked any real bite. You were lovesick, and he knew it. He always knew exactly how to twist you around his finger.

"Come on, darlin'," he whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "She was harmless. Just a dumb waitress tryin’ to flirt. But you…" He leaned in close again, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re the one I’m here with, aren’t ya?"

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you with that unreadable expression. You could tell something was stirring beneath the surface, but with Ronin, it was always hard to tell what exactly. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Damn, darlin’, you’re worse than those fangirls and fanboys who come ‘round hopin’ to see the style in the flesh.”

You blinked in confusion, not quite sure what he meant. “What?”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Y’know, when I’m at the garage, workin’ on scooters or cars—people come in, they recognize the style. The way I dress. The way I act.” He paused, his grin widening. “You wrote it so damn well that people think it’s me in real life. It’s like a show every time. They get all worked up, thinkin’ they’ve spotted the real deal.”

Your jaw clenched. Anger bubbled inside you again, not at him—never really at him—but at the world for not understanding that you were the one who crafted him so carefully, so intimately. You created this version of him, this persona that everyone else now saw as their own discovery. It made your blood boil, the way they fawned over him, completely missing the deeper connection you had.

Ronin’s eyes flicked over to you, and you knew he saw it. That anger bubbling beneath the surface, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. But, of course, Ronin was always good at seeing through you, pulling at the threads just to see how far you’d unravel.

He leaned forward, his smirk darkening. “Look at you, darlin’. You’re tryin’ so hard to keep that pretty little face of yours calm, but I can see it. You hate the way they look at me, don’t you? All that attention, all those eyes, and none of ‘em know what it’s really like to be close to me. But you do.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt yourself trembling, your pulse quickening. He was doing it again—getting inside your head, stirring up all those feelings that you tried so hard to control. And you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to stop it.

“Of course I do,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I hate it when they act like they know you. They don’t. They don’t know you, not like I do.”

Ronin laughed softly, a low, mocking sound that made your heart ache and flutter at the same time. “You’re somethin��� else, y’know that? Worse than the rest of ‘em, even. But that’s what makes you so fun, baby. The way you get all wound up over me.”

He was right, of course. You were worse than them. You were completely consumed by him, and he knew it. Every little look, every word, every touch sent you spiraling deeper into your obsession. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I don’t care what you think,” you muttered, even though you knew it was a lie. “I just… I hate that they don’t see the real you. They just see the version of you that I wrote.”

Ronin’s eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something more serious, more intense. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “And what is the real me, huh? The one you see? The one you wrote?”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “The real you… you’re mine,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “You’re my Ronin.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you with that same unreadable expression. Then, slowly, his smirk returned, darker and more dangerous than before. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice sending a thrill through your veins. “I guess I am, darlin’. I guess I am.”

Your heart swelled at his words, even though you knew better than to take them at face value. He was always playing games, always toying with your emotions, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall deeper every time.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind your words. You were completely and utterly lovesick, and he knew it.

Ronin grinned, leaning back again with a satisfied smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, stop lookin’ so pissed, and enjoy your damn ice cream, darlin."

He finished his, soon.

Ronin leaned back with a long, exaggerated sigh as he shoved another bite of his apple crumble ice cream into his mouth. "One ice cream, darlin’? This is all we’re doin’? Christ, I’m tired of this bullshit already,” he grumbled, though you could see the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. As always, he played at annoyance, but you knew better.

You smiled softly, spooning some of your ice cream as he shoveled through his. “If you’re tired, we can get out of here,” you said, trying not to sound too eager. You didn’t want to rush him, but the thought of spending more time together made your heart race.

He paused mid-scoop, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You done already?”

You nodded, even though a part of you didn’t want to admit it. "Yeah… I mean, if you want another scoop though…”

He scoffed, looking distanced for a moment before narrowing his eyes, trying to read you. “Another scoop?” he repeated, almost like he was testing you.

You smiled, pushing through the tension. “I’ll buy it for you if you want.”

Ronin blinked, his expression unreadable for a second before he shook his head, letting out another one of those dramatic sighs. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You get me too well, it’s scary. Almost like you’re in my head sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but grin at that, your heart fluttering at the way he said it, even if it was meant to be a jab. “Well, it’s my turn to spoil you a little,” you said, winking playfully.

Ronin snorted, rolling his eyes. “Your bullshit’s so cute it’s killin’ me,” he muttered in that mock-annoyed tone, though the slight crinkle in his eyes told you he wasn’t really annoyed at all. He liked playing along, rising you up because it amused him, but there was always that undercurrent of something deeper. He didn’t admit it outright, but you could tell he enjoyed these moments—just you and him, even in the simplest ways.

You both stared at each other for a second, and then, with a shrug, he relented. “Fine. I want another scoop.”

Your smile grew, and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled. “Alright. One more, coming right up.”

When the waitress brought the extra scoop, Ronin wasted no time digging in, and you watched him with quiet adoration. Every bite he took, every small, almost unconscious movement, made you feel like you were watching something special—something only you were privy to. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He was your Ronin, no matter how much he pretended to push you away.

After a few bites, he caught you staring and raised an eyebrow. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

You blinked, snapping out of your lovesick daze, a small flush rising to your cheeks. “Nothing,” you muttered quickly, looking down at your empty bowl. “Just… you seem to be enjoying that.”

He paused, studying your face for a second before smirking. “You’re so easy to mess with, darlin’. But yeah, I guess it’s not bad.” He took another large bite, savoring it a little too dramatically to not be teasing you.

You couldn’t help but smile again. “I’m glad.”

Ronin let out a low chuckle, finishing his ice cream before standing up and stretching lazily. “Alright, that’s enough sugar for one night. Let’s get outta here.”

You nodded, standing up as well, though you hesitated for a second. “You sure you don’t want another scoop?”

He shot you a look, exasperated but amused. “Don’t push it. You already spoiled me enough.”

As you both made your way toward the exit, you couldn’t help the lightness in your step, even though you knew he’d never outright admit it. These small moments, even when filled with his teasing and sarcasm, meant more to you than he could ever know.

Ronin glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. "Stop grinnin’ like an idiot. You’re makin’ me regret ever lettin’ you spoil me.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide, but the warmth inside you was impossible to contain. "You’re welcome, Ronin."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything more, just shoved his hands into his pockets and walked beside you, the night air cool and crisp as you both left the ice cream shop behind.

You said your goodbyes with him. Tho, he didn't show it. You can see maybe he did enjoy this day..

Things weren't so great.

You felt the familiar vibration of your phone as you made your way back to your house, alone after parting ways with Ronin. Your heart was still fluttering from the whole night, but the moment you saw the names on your notifications, reality hit like a truck. Angel, V, Misaki—they were all on your case, blowing up your phone.

You sighed, unlocking it and seeing their frantic DMs, especially from Angel, who was trying her best to keep V from spiraling.

Angel:

"Hey, I talked to V. He's pissed. I tried calming him down, but it's not working. You and Ronin really need to explain what happened. V is not gonna let this slide unless someone takes responsibility."

Your heart sank as you read her message, realizing just how badly things were spiraling. You quickly shot her a message back, hoping to at least ease her a little.

You:

"I went on a date with Ronin…"

It wasn’t long before Angel replied, and her concern bled through the screen.

Angel:

"A date? Oh god… Look, I’m not mad, but this is going to be a mess. V’s furious. Misaki’s trying to play it cool, but they feel bad for you. Just… be prepared. You need to explain everything. V won’t let it go."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed again, this time a notification from none other than Goreboy—Ronin’s online persona. You knew it was him even before you read the message, and something about his casual, detached tone made your heart race.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"What now, Darlin’? Don’t Freak. Just Follow My lead."

It was typical Ronin, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal, as if he hadn’t just upended your whole situation. Still, his confidence was oddly reassuring, and you couldn’t help but trust him.

You:

"Are you sure?"

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Yes."

That was all you needed. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable storm as you all joined the group VC. The moment you entered, V was already going off.

"Explain yourself, Ronin!" V barked, his voice sharp and accusatory. "I don’t care what you think you’re doing. You should’ve stayed away from them!"

Ronin’s voice came through, calm and post-ironic as ever. "Y’know, V, you’re really makin’ this more fun than it needs to be." He drawled lazily, as if V’s anger was nothing more than a mild annoyance to him. "I didn’t ‘come after’ them, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. They showed up in my alley. I was just mindin’ my own business, darlin’ here just had to check on me."

You felt the familiar tug of lovesick warmth as he said that. He was defending himself, but in a way that still made it sound like it was your fault for being tempted by him. He knew how much you adored him, how much you’d do anything to be in his orbit. He played with it, as always.

V wasn’t having it, though. "Bullshit. You knew they’d come after you if you showed yourself. This is on you, Ronin. You’re dragging them into your mess."

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped in, heart racing. "No, V, it’s my fault. I… I wanted to see Ronin. It wasn’t him dragging me anywhere."

There was a heavy silence in the chat after you spoke. Angel and Misaki were quiet, unsure how to approach the situation. Misaki finally broke the silence, their voice soft but clear. "Poor you…" they muttered, almost to themselves

Angel sighed, her voice filled with sympathy. "Maybe… maybe it’s best to let them handle their own business. This is getting complicated."

V, however, wasn’t backing down. "This isn’t just their business. Ronin, you know better. You’ve got some sick game going on, and it’s not fair to them!"

Ronin laughed, the sound dark and mocking. "Oh, , I’m always playin’ games. You know that. But this time? I was just tempted. What can I say?" He chuckled again, clearly enjoying how much this was getting under V’s skin. "Besides, I told ‘em it was their fault for comin’ after me. I’m the devil, remember? It’s so easy to pull them in."

Your heart pounded in your chest as he said that, and something inside you snapped. "Stop blaming Ronin!" you yelled, voice cracking slightly. "It’s my fault! I wanted to see him! I’m the one who—"

Ronin’s voice cut you off, quieter but far more intense. "Enough." The weight of his tone silenced everyone. "It’s my fault I was tempted. That’s the truth. But you," he paused, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the screen, "you need to log off for a bit. Let me handle this."

You hesitated, torn between your need to defend him and the strange, commanding weight his words held over you. You were lovesick, desperate to stay, to stand up for him, but he was telling you to go.

Angel spoke softly. "Maybe… maybe it’s for the best. Just… take a break for a bit. Let Ronin and V handle this."

Ronin’s voice came again, a little softer, though the devilish edge remained. "Yeah, darlin’. Log off. I’ll deal with V."

With a heavy heart, you nodded, even though no one could see you. "Okay," you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. "I’ll… I’ll go."

As soon as you logged off the call, Ronin messaged you, and all the other frantic DMs from V, Angel, and Misaki vanished into the background, their notifications irrelevant. It was like the world narrowed down to just Ronin—his presence wrapping around you like a vice.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Just kidding, darlin'."

Your heart skipped a beat. Kidding? Before you could even ask, his next message came through.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Logged off with Ya. Figured the show’s over, huh? Don’t worry, it’s all Part of the Game"

You stared at your phone, anger bubbling up. What the hell did he mean by that? You quickly shot him a message.

You:

"What the fudge did you do, Ronin?

His response came almost instantly, like he was just waiting for your reaction.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Relax, darlin'. Just played a little game. Y'know how V gets with his 'fucking justice' and 'fucking morals'. Thought I’d Ruffle his feathers a bit. It’s kinda Funny, don’tcha think?"

"Played a little game, that's all."

He sent the message so casually, as if the chaos he just caused was nothing. You could practically feel the smugness radiating from his words.

You:

"Annoying! I can't see anyone's messages except yours!"

He responded instantly, his words quick, almost playful.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Of course. It’s just You and Me, darlin’. Lovers tryna enjoy each other Without the Bullshit distractions. But V, with his fucking morals and justice, thinkin' you're getting influenced by yours truly."

His words dripped with that usual post-ironic tone, mocking yet dead serious. And somehow, that made your heart race even more. You knew he was right, at least about one thing: you were completely under his spell.

You:

"That’s… true."

There was a pause before his reply came through, and you could almost see him grinning on the other side of the screen.

Goreboy (Ronin):

But you Love* it, don't you, Darlin'?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you typed your response, fingers trembling slightly.

You:

"Yes…"

He was quick to pounce on that, pushing you further into his devilish web.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"I know ya do. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. So go with the flow!

His words made your pulse quicken, the way he so easily took control of the situation, twisting it into something that was just between the two of you. His devilish charm always made you feel like you were playing a dangerous game, but you couldn’t help but crave more.

You:

"It's annoying how well you know me."

Goreboy (Ronin):

"I had a Good Time Today, by the way."

You nearly jumped out of your chair, excitement bubbling up inside you. Your fingers instinctively kissed your palms, a gesture you often did when the thrill of your affection overwhelmed you.

You:

"Really? Oh my god, that’s so cute! I’m literally squealing right now!"

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Christ, you’re Ridiculous. It's Embarrassing, honestly."

You could almost picture him rolling his eyes on the other side of the screen, but that only fueled your excitement more.

You:

"I can't help it! My love is riding the park on a unicorn of feelings!"

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Ew. Seriously? What the Hell is wrong with You?"

But deep down, you knew he loved it.

You:

"So… is apple crumble your favorite flavor or what?" You asked, half-joking.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"No shit, Sherlock. How Pathetic is it that you don’t even know what I like?"

You pouted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and defiance.

You:

"Well, you never tell me a lot about yourself!"

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Hmm, is that the case? You think I’m just gonna spill my guts to you, sweetheart? Maybe you’re just too wrapped up in your little fantasy world to notice."

You suddenly got a notification. Decided to check it than Check Ronin.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"........."

"Hello, Hell to Y/n."

"So, how’s your book coming along? I hope you’re writing about me, of course."

Dude, was down bad. He won't admit it of course. In truth the Devil wants yours attention.

Of course you are dumb to realize that he wants it. After seeing the nofication. You saw his messages

You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of pride and mischief bubbling inside you.

You:

" Oh, expect justice! I’m writing everything down! V is going to be sad because I got distracted by you, and now I have to rewrite so much."

Goreboy (Ronin):

" You finally replied. Ah, so I’m a Good inspiration For you, huh? How Adorable’."

The way he said “adorable” sent a thrill through you, igniting something darker beneath the surface.

You:

"It’s crazy! I even wrote about how much I love you, Ronin. It’s all in there—gore and all!"

His laughter came through the screen, dark and enticing.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Well, if we’re being honest here, My love for blood is Pretty Poetic, wouldn’t you say? It’s the ultimate Expression of affection. Give Me Your Aorta, sweetheart. Let me have it."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, a strange thrill coursing through you as you pictured the grotesque imagery he conjured.

You:

"You want my aorta? For you, it’s yours. It’s not like I need it, right?"

Goreboy

"Aw, So cute."

K9 requests to message you

Goreboy (Ronin)

"V is really Trying to get you to Talk, but I Don’t Wanna deal with him right now. What Do you think? Focus on me or let Him Blabber on?"

You thought for a moment, weighing the options.

You:

"I guess we could let V talk... he does seem like he has something to say."

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Nope. I think you Should Focus On Me. I have a Better idea."

Your curiosity piqued.

You:

"What do you mean?"

Goreboy (Ronin):

"How about a round of Truth or Dare? I haven’t played that with you in ages, and it could be fun."

It took a second for the realization to hit you. This was a game you hadn’t played in forever, but the thrill of it sent a shiver down your spine.

You:

"Oh, I like the sound of that! But what about V?"

Goreboy (Ronin):

"We’ll deal with V later. Besides, if you Need Me to distract You from him, then I’m all yours."

His words were laced with something deeper, something tantalizing. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

You:

"So, you think your flesh and bone is enough to keep me distracted?"

He grinned, and it was the kind of grin that sent your heart racing.

Goreboy (Ronin):

"I bet I can Keep you Plenty Entertained."

You both laughed, the tension dissipating into playful banter.

You:

"Oh, please. You think you're all that? What’s so Special about You?"

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Well, for starters, "Insert your liking about Ronin's character" . That’s pretty rare, don’t you think?"

You:

"Right, right. How Romantic."

Goreboy (Ronin):

"I know, I’m like a walking Romance novel, just with a bit more Blood and Guts."

You giggled, the absurdity of it making your heart flutter.

You:

"I can’t decide if that’s charming or disturbing."

Goreboy (Ronin):

"Why not both? It’s like the Best of Both Worlds, darling."

sorry for ppl who thinks this story will be sooooooooooo cute ^^

[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.

[elysiaheaven]

KC cast with a streamer reader!- who's a serial killer like them!

Reader is

V

V finds your dark humor and unapologetic nature intriguing and hates it (Because it doesn't remind him of Ronin, trust). Tho Your shared interest in justice through violence (allows for deep conversations that often blur the line between morality and chaos.

He feels a strong urge to protect you, treating you like a delicate flower amid a storm. He appreciates your fierceness when talking abt your victims or discussing ethics in a humorous, detached manner.

V’s flirting is awkward yet sincere (When he starts to like you he tries). He struggles to express his feelings, often delivering compliments in the same cold manner he uses to discuss your latest "projects."

V loves animals, so he might show off a new pet or plant during your streams, inviting you to do the same. You both share a passion for nurturing life while secretly discussing death.

He grapples with the morality of your actions, often reflecting on whether your “mission” serves a greater good or merely satisfies your own darker desires. His love for you adds complexity to his views.

Misaki

Misaki loves your streams, your chaotic escapades, often turning your dark activities into comedic gold. Your goofy nature matches perfectly, creating entertaining and unpredictable streams.

Your playful, snarky interactions draw in viewers, with you teasing Misaki about their darker tendencies while they counter with silly remarks about “killing the competition.”

Misaki is deeply supportive, always cheering you on during streams. They value your ability to relate to their chaotic lifestyle, making your bond feel genuine and lively.

You might host cooking streams where you whip up meals with an edge—using “blood” as a cooking ingredient (like red food dye) while laughing about your “killing skills.”

Despite her silly demeanor, Misaki is aware of the emotional turmoil that comes with your lifestyle. She is there for you during low moments, offering light-hearted jokes to ease the heaviness.

Angel

Angel appreciates your sweet and dark side, blending her optimistic pessimism with your chaotic nature. Your streams could explore dark themes while maintaining an upbeat vibe that attracts viewers.

In moments of doubt, Angel is there to uplift you, reminding you of the beauty in your chaos and the importance of embracing who you are, even as a killer.

You might host streams that glamorize your lifestyle, wearing stunning outfits while discussing your “projects.” Angel encourages you to flaunt your darkness and embrace your identity.

Given her own struggles with manic episodes, Angel is sensitive to your needs. You both have open discussions about mental health, ensuring you both feel supported.

Together, you might create art or music inspired by your experiences, sharing your twisted love with the world through unique and creative expressions.

You challenge each other’s perspectives, often leading to deep discussions about morality, making your relationship both fun and thought-provoking.

Ronin

Ronin revels in your darkness, viewing your relationship as a canvas for corruption. He encourages you to embrace your murderous tendencies and even pushes you further into chaos.

Your streams are filled with dark humor and playful banter, where Ronin might take on a dominant role, teasing you and challenging you to outdo him in “kills.”

Beneath his playful exterior, Ronin is conflicted. He finds himself falling for you, struggling with his feelings as he admires your darkness but also fears losing himself in your chaotic bond.

You brainstorm ideas for streams that feature elaborate setups for your “projects,” each one more twisted than the last, often resulting in a grotesque yet artistic performance.

Ronin’s romantic gestures are laced with darkness. He might present you with a bouquet of “bloody” flowers or a heart-shaped trinket that’s a little too realistic.

You share secrets about your “work” during quiet moments, forging a deeper connection. Ronin is captivated by your innocence amidst your gruesome lifestyle, often leaving him longing for a deeper understanding.

[elysiaheaven]

"Pure Insatiablity"-[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓-3] 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐆.𝐍 (Yandere) 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓)

Words:8000

Genre: Yandere/Fluff

Summary: Playin truth or dare with the devil! You have a small motive too Mission : Invite him to a sleepover!

( Reader is a g.n!)-(If you see somewhere in the lines mentioned as she/girl pls tell me! I just forgot to edit sometimes

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!!

The video call connected, and Ronin's face filled the screen, his smirk as mischievous as ever. The lighting cast playful shadows on his features, emphasizing the sharp lines of his jaw and the dark glint in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back, the excitement bubbling within you.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Look who picked up so soon! Aren’t you just the cutest little thing?"

His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it that made your heart race.

You: "I was waiting for you to call! Besides, you know I can’t resist your devilish charm."

Goreboy (Ronin): "Devilish? Me? Nah, I’m just a sweet little Devil"

He rolled his eyes, a grin stretching across his lips.

You: "Right. An DEVIL with a crowbar."

Goreboy (Ronin): "Well, it’s time for the game, my little sweet pea. Let’s get this started."

His tone shifted, turning serious, but it was laced with an undercurrent of excitement.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Here’s how it works: we each pick a truth or a dare. Since you were such a good little sweet pea and listened to me earlier, you get to choose for me first."

You thought for a moment, the thrill of the game igniting your imagination.

You: "Okay, I choose truth for you."

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his expression amused.

Goreboy (Ronin): "How cute! You gave me the easier option to answer. But just you wait, I’m going to love tormenting you with my dare later."

You: "Alright, my turn! Truth. What kind of pajamas do you like?"

You watched as his eyebrows raised slightly, clearly amused by your question.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Really? That’s what you wanna know?"

You shrugged with a grin, waiting for his response.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Well, if you must know, I’m definitely an oversized kind of guy. Baggy shirt and shorts, something easy to throw on. Nothing too fancy, just like me."

You: "Fine, I’ll ask again later. Now it’s your turn. What do you want me to do?"

Ronin’s eyes gleamed with delight as he contemplated your fate.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Let’s see… I dare you to send me a voice note where you say my name in the most seductive tone you can manage."

You blinked in surprise, the heat rushing to your cheeks.

You: "Seriously? That’s your dare?"

Goreboy (Ronin): "Yep! And I expect nothing but the best from you, darling. Show me what you got."

You chuckled nervously, the challenge sending a thrill through you.

You: "Okay, but you better not laugh!"

Goreboy (Ronin): "No promises, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes, but the excitement bubbled up again as you picked up your phone to record the message.

You: "Here goes nothing."

You took a breath, letting your voice drop low and sultry.

You: "Ronin… you know I can’t resist you…"

You stopped yourself, laughter bubbling up as you hit send.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Oh my god, that was perfect!"

He leaned forward, clearly entertained, but there was something else in his gaze—something deeper that made your heart flutter.

You: "Shut up! You loved it."

His grin widened, eyes glinting with amusement, knowing full well how his casual answer still got to you.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Now, you’ve had your fun, but I’m bored of choosing for you. What do you want to pick this time?"

You hesitated for a moment before choosing.

You: "Truth."

His smirk deepened, eyes narrowing in that devilish way of his.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Alright then, let’s see... What do you think of pets?"

You paused, not expecting such a simple question. You couldn’t help but smile, deciding to make yourself sound cute.

You: "I think they’re adorable! I don’t mind any kind of pets, honestly. I’d probably spoil them rotten."

You made sure to flash your most innocent smile, tilting your head slightly as you tried to sweeten your words, hoping he’d find it endearing. But of course, Ronin saw right through you.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Oh please, don’t even try it, darlin'. I can see right through that cute act."

You couldn’t help but laugh, caught in the moment.

You: "Teehee! You caught me."

He shook his head, grinning like the devil he was.

You grinned as you chose truth for him again, leaning closer to the screen as if to close the gap between you two. Ronin rolled his eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Truth again? Ugh, how boring. But I guess I can humor you. What’s the question?"

You: "It’s a surprise this time!"

He raised a brow, looking vaguely intrigued.

You: "Okay, what's your favorite show or movie?"

For a split second, his expression shifted—almost like he was getting ready to mess with you—before he gave a genuine answer.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Horror. Anything that’s bloody, slasher films especially. But what really gets me are those Japanese grotesque body horror flicks. You know, the ero-guro stuff, Junji Ito’s works. The more disturbing, the better."

Your eyes widened at his response. You didn’t expect anything less, but it was still unnerving hearing him list his favorites so casually.

You: "How can you watch all that without getting scared? It sounds terrifying!"

His smirk deepened, leaning in closer on his end as if to mock your worry.

Goreboy (Ronin): "That’s my specialty, darlin'. Horror doesn't scare me, it thrills me."

There was a pause, his eyes glinting with that familiar devilish glint as he added,

Goreboy (Ronin): "But hey, maybe if we watched one together... I’d let you hold my hand if you got too scared."

He grinned, knowing full well the effect his words had on you, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously. He was teasing, but the way he said it made your heart race.

You: "Oh, so I get special treatment now, huh? Only if I get scared?"

He shrugged, keeping his casual, almost mocking tone.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Maybe. But let’s be real—you're definitely gonna get scared. And I might let you cling to me, just for the fun of it."

Ronin’s mischievous grin only widened as he leaned back, arms crossed, and prepared for his dare.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Alright, sweetheart, I’m gonna keep it interesting this time. I’m gonna show you something you really gotta see."

Your heart raced. You had already accepted anything he threw at you.

You: "I accept anything, Ronin! Let’s go!"

With a quick flick, he turned off the camera, and a few moments later, he switched it back on, revealing not just himself, but his two little pets.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Meet my two companions: this here’s Pepperoni!"

He held up a sleek snake, its scales glistening under the light, coiling effortlessly around his arm. The sight was both fascinating and unsettling, but you couldn’t help but exclaim.

You: "Oh my god, it’s so cute!"

Ronin's expression twisted slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Don’t say it like that, darlin'. It might just eat you."

You laughed nervously, your mind racing with the sheer absurdity of the idea.

You: "Cheesy! Won’t you be there to save me?"

His tone turned serious, if only for a moment, as he replied,

Goreboy (Ronin): "It could eat you, but I’d still love you."

Your heart did a little flip, the warmth spreading through you like a fever. So cute! So cute! Your thoughts spiraled, tinged with a dark excitement. If he loved you even when you were devoured by his pets, what would it feel like to be so utterly consumed by him? You felt a momentary pang of panic—what if this love was a twisted, grotesque thing?

But before you could dwell on that too long, Ronin snapped you back to reality, his voice playful.

Goreboy (Ronin): "You still with me on this planet, or have you floated off to the great beyond?"

He turned the camera slightly, showcasing his rat next, a tiny creature with a glossy black coat. You gasped again, utterly charmed.

You: "It’s so cute! I can’t wait to spend time with them!"

Ronin settled back down, now holding the rat gently, his demeanor softening as he gazed at you with an unexpected fondness.

Goreboy (Ronin): "I’m glad you liked them. They’re a handful, but I think they’ve got a good sense of humor."

He looked at you, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, and for a moment, you felt like the world outside faded away. Just you and Ronin, and those two little creatures.

You couldn’t help but smile, your gaze shifting from the pets back to him.

You: "You’re all smiley! What’s going on, huh?"

Goreboy (Ronin): "Just happy you accepted them, that’s all. Nothing more."

You felt a surge of warmth at his words, but it wasn’t just about the pets. It was about the way he looked at you—the way he softened, just a fraction, beneath that devilish exterior. It was intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the abyss of your feelings for him.

In the back of your mind, thoughts of the girls at the ice cream shop resurfaced. Their eyes on him, giggling and whispering, made your blood boil. How dare they? You wanted to make them regret ever looking his way.

You tried to shake off the thought, focusing instead on Ronin and his pets, but the unsettling notions clung to you. What if... what if he was only with you because he saw Ther in you? What if he’d never truly see you?

A sickening thrill twisted in your gut. What if you killed? What if, in a moment of insanity, you proved your love in a way that was irrevocable? Maybe that would make him see you for who you really were—your own person, apart from the specter of his past love. Maybe if you killed, he’d realize you weren’t Ther; you were your own entity, your own darkness that fit so perfectly with his.

You just wanted him! You didn’t care if he saw Ther in you—

But those thoughts, as intoxicating as they were, slipped away when you looked back at him, the light of your screen illuminating the sharp angles of his face. You smiled at him, your heart racing with a mixture of love and twisted desire.

You: "Your pets are adorable! Could you show them to me one day?"

Ronin raised an eyebrow, and you could see the glimmer of something affectionate in his gaze, something that made your heart pound even harder.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Yeah, one day, when I invite you over to my place."

He was smiling, and it felt genuine—softening beneath all the layers he’d put up.

You were silent for a moment, staring at him, lost in your lovesick reverie, ignoring the shadows lurking at the edge of your mind. You didn’t care about anything else, not the girls, not the whispers of the past. You just wanted him—you just wanted Ronin.

He caught you gazing at him, and the smirk returned, a playful challenge in his eyes.

Goreboy (Ronin): "What’s up? You look like you’ve got something sinister planned."

You shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips, as you leaned closer to the screen.

You: "Just thinking how cute you are with your little pets."

Ronin laughed, the sound warm, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. You let the love, twisted and grotesque as it was, consume you entirely. You knew you were losing yourself to him—completely and utterly—and you were so okay with it.

You leaned in, mischievous and grinning, knowing exactly what you were doing as you threw the dare at him.

You: "Okay, Ronin, here’s your dare: bastardize Shakespeare with love quotes. I’m talking full-on cringe!"

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Really, darlin'? You want me to suffer like that? I thought you liked me."

You giggled, feeling the warmth bubble up in your chest.

You: "It’s a joke! C’mon, you bullied me a little, now it’s your turn to suffer!"

Ronin let out a dramatic sigh, as if this was the worst fate he could endure, though you knew better. His post-ironic flare was in full swing. He knew it was ridiculous, and that only made him lean into it harder.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Fine, sweetheart. If you want me to butcher ol’ Shakespeare in front of everyone, who am I to say no?"

With that, he jumped back into the server and fired off a series of over-the-top, melodramatic, and utterly ridiculous Shakespearean love quotes with his own devilish spin. You could almost hear the exaggerated, emo cadence in his voice as he typed.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Oh, fair darling, dost thou not know? My heart, an abyss of blackened stars, doth weep for thy very soul—forever entangled in this wretched world! Thy beauty doth stab me like a dagger through the aorta!"

The reaction in the server was immediate.

Misaki: "HELPPPP I CANT BREATHE!"

V: "..." (silence, because you could feel the heavy judgment in those dots)

Angel: Ronin, what the fuck..?

Luca: "What the fuck, dude, I’m DYING! This is too much!"

Feli: "Please, please, Shakespeare is already dead. Don’t kill him again!"

V couldn’t hold back anymore. You watched his little typing bubble pop up on screen before his message came through, and it was loaded with that same righteous judgment he always had.

V: "Ronin, how can you show your face after doing... all of that?"

Before you could even react, Ronin—ever the post-ironic menace—jumped back into character. His next reply was already dripping with sarcasm, delivered in the same Shakespearean tone that had everyone groaning.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Ah, my fair V! Dost thou not know? ‘Twas not I, but my beloved muse who did order me! It was they who bade me to bastardize the very works of the Bard himself, to appease her devilish whims! Shall I not, as their humble servant, obey the very commands she doth whisper into mine ear?"

The server erupted again. You could practically hear V sighing through his messages.

V: "Stop. Just stop."

Ronin didn’t miss a beat. He turned his sarcastic fire onto the others.

Goreboy (Ronin): "And thou, fair Misaki! Art thou not paid for thy deadly craft, an assassin who taketh rent and money for her work? Pray tell, where is the justice in such deeds, yet thou judges me for simply... entertaining!"

Misaki couldn’t resist responding, her typing bubble hovering for a moment before she gave in.

Misaki: "HELP! MAKE IT STOP! You did NOT just turn this on me for rent!"

Ronin moved on to Angel next, with no signs of letting up.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Angel, sweet Angel! Dost thou not ask for likes and subscriptions in thine endeavors? For thy YouTube craft, thou dost beckon the masses to thy side! Art we all not bound by the strings of our desires?!"

Angel: (Crying emoji) "WHY are you doing this to Shakespeare?! Please!"

Ronin wasn’t finished. His chaos needed one last flourish. He turned his playful wrath toward Luca and Feli, who were already typing furiously.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Luca and Feli, the lovebirds! Thou dost laugh now, but is thy romance not as frail as the love between Romeo and Juliet? Shall I not craft for thee a tragedy of thine own if thou doth not respect my art!"

Luca: "WHAT THE HELL, DUDE. I’M LAUGHING TOO HARD, STOP!"

Feli: "You’re ruining everything with this. My love for Shakespeare is DEAD. DEAD!"

The server was a wreck. Everyone was laughing, typing furiously, and you couldn’t stop the grin that had crept up on your face. Ronin had taken what should have been a cringe-inducing moment and turned it into a full-blown Shakespearean parody, dragging everyone into the mess.

You: "Okay, okay, enough already! I think you’ve officially broken everyone."

Goreboy (Ronin): "If you think that was bad, wait till I bring you my version of 'Romeo and Juliet'. I’ll rewrite the whole thing just for us. Deadly, romantic, and full of blood. Think you can handle it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as he teased, his words dripping with that familiar mix of humor and danger.

You: "Oh, I can handle it."

But Ronin, of course, wasn’t done yet. He had one last thing to say, typing with all the drama of a Shakespearean actor in his final act.

Goreboy (Ronin): "I shall cease, sweet darling, but know this: I have given thee what thou hast requested, and in doing so, I have delivered the most glorious of mockeries! And thus, I depart this cursed stage... for now."

He logged off dramatically, as if exiting stage left, leaving the server in shambles behind him.

V: "I... I’m speechless."

Angel: "That was... too much."

You couldn’t handle it. Ronin had disappeared after his dramatic exit, leaving the server in chaos, and worse yet, he wasn't answering your DMs. You needed his attention now.

You: "Ronin, where are you?!" "Come onnnn, I need you! Don’t leave me hanging after that mess!"

But still, no response. Your impatience was starting to boil over, and then, an idea hit you—Shakespeare. If he wasn’t going to come back, maybe you’d pull him out by mocking the one thing he loved to ruin. You’d turn the tables.

So you did it, typing out your own terrible bastardization of Shakespeare in his DMs.

You: "Oh Ronin, dearest heart of mine! Why hast thou forsaken me, thy sweet and loyal muse? Dost thou leave me alone in this realm, only to writhe in agony at thy absence?!"

Still, no answer. You groaned, fingers flying over the keys as you continued.

You: "Nay, but I shall not be silent! If thou dost not return, I shall wreak havoc upon the Bard’s very legacy! I shall twist his words ‘til they are but shadows of their former glory, all for thee, my cruel tormentor!"

You smirked, half-expecting him to swoop in any second, but there was still... nothing. Frustrated, you decided to lean in harder.

You: "Forsooth, if thou dost not return, I shall curse the heavens themselves, and turn mine quill upon the stars, writing naught but tragedy in thy absence! Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Nay! I compare thee to a ghost, haunting my thoughts, yet unseen! COME BACK OR I SWEAR IT SHALL BE CARNAGE!"

And then, as if on cue, a familiar notification popped up. Ronin was online.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Christ, you’ve lost it, haven’t you?"

You couldn’t help the smug satisfaction that welled up inside you as you saw his message. He was back.

You: "I had to do something. You left me with no choice!"

Goreboy (Ronin): "Left you with no choice? So you butchered the Bard in my honor? Well, darling, I’m touched."

You could almost hear the sarcasm dripping from his words, and yet, there was that familiar edge, the one that always made your heart race. He continued before you could respond.

Goreboy (Ronin): "You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. I could leave you stewing in your own disaster for hours. But... I suppose I’ll indulge you. After all, you did try so hard to get my attention."

You: "It worked, didn’t it?"

There was a pause before his next message, as though he was weighing his words, knowing exactly how to tease you without giving too much away.

Goreboy (Ronin): "So, darling, what’s it going to be? Now that I’m back, are we done pretending to be Shakespearean disasters, or do you have something else up your sleeve?"

You rolled your eyes, typing fast.

You: "Please, you started this mess with your over-the-top performance. I was just following your brilliant example."

His reply came quickly this time, and you could practically feel his smirk through the screen.

Goreboy (Ronin): "Of course you were. After all, you always follow me, don’t you? Even when you’re pretending to lead."

There it was, the familiar back-and-forth that left you dizzy. Ronin, the devil in disguise, always making you chase after him, always pulling you in just to let you get close enough to feel the heat before he slipped away again.

You: "And yet, you always come back to me. Funny how that works."

Another pause, and then—

Goreboy (Ronin): "Maybe I just like to keep you on your toes. Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?"

You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, and once again, that lovesick feeling crept back in. But there was an edge to it now—something darker, something possessive, something hungry.

He had you wrapped around his finger, and you didn’t care.

You hesitated before calling Ronin, your fingers hovering over the screen. You knew he was going to mess with you, but you couldn’t help it. You needed to hear his voice, that teasing tone that always left you feeling a mix of frustrated and lovesick. The phone rang twice before he answered, his face filling the screen with that smug grin of his.

"Well, well, how the tables have turned," Ronin drawled. "It used to be me calling you, but now you’re the one so eager, huh?"

You quickly shot back, "You picked up fast too, don’t act like you weren’t waiting for this." You smirked, though your heart was racing.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in mock offense. "Is that so? Should I feed you to the fish for that? Or better yet..." His grin widened, voice dropping lower, "Apologize in Shakespearean or I’ll end this call right now. No looking, no talking, nothing. Your choice."

You panicked, knowing full well he’d do it if you didn’t comply. A sigh escaped you, and with a roll of your eyes, you caved. "Fine! Thou art a most cruel tormentor, and I—thy humble fool—dost beg for forgiveness, lest thou cast me away into oblivion!"

Ronin’s laughter filled your ears, deep and uncontrollable. "That’s a good one! Christ, I should record this!" He laughed so hard you could see him wiping a tear from his eye. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it, darlin’. You’re too good."

You puffed up, cheeks flushing at his teasing. "Stop it!" you whined, trying to hide your flustered grin. "Can we just get back to the game, please?"

Ronin’s eyes gleamed as he leaned back, a devilish smirk forming. "Alright, alright, I’ll let it slide. But, since I’m still feeling generous, here’s your next dare." His smile widened, something dangerous lingering in his tone. "DM V—tell him how much you love me. A love note. You’re a writer, right? Should be easy."

Your heart skipped a beat. "You... you want me to die by V’s hand, don’t you?!" you half-joked, though the idea of V seeing that was enough to make you want to scream. Ronin looked at you, completely unserious, then shrugged with a smirk.

"I won’t let any serial killer touch you, darlin'. Your aorta’s mine. Only I get to kiss it and... well, you know the rest." His tone was dark, possessive, and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

And just like that, he ended the call, leaving you giggling uncontrollably, heart pounding in your chest. He always did this—left you wanting more, teetering on the edge of madness, half in love and half terrified. But God, did you love it.

But now… the dare. You stared at your phone, dreading what you had to do. You couldn’t chicken out. Not after all that. Sighing, you switched over to the group chat with Angel and Misaki and hesitantly typed out your message.

You: "Guys... uh, I just wanted to say how much I love Ronin. Like, seriously. He’s... the best. Yup, totally obsessed. Just thought you should know."

You winced as you hit send, waiting for the chaos to

You pressed the call button before your nerves could get the best of you, the ringing pulling you into a familiar rhythm. It wasn’t long before the screen lit up, and there was Ronin, lounging back like he had nothing better to do. His face filled the screen, smug as always, that half-grin already sending a shiver down your spine.

"How the tables have turned," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "It used to be me calling you all the time. Now, look at you, darlin'—dialing me up in a hurry."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. "As if. You picked up just as fast, don't forget that."

He leaned back, letting out a low chuckle, fingers brushing through his messy hair. "Maybe so. But it’s much more fun to pretend I’m the one calling the shots."

You narrowed your eyes at him through the screen, but there was no real fire behind it. The way he teased you was too familiar now,

You hesitated for a second, your finger hovering over the call button before pressing it. The ringing barely lasted a moment before Ronin picked up, his face appearing on the screen with that familiar, amused smirk.

"Well, well, look how the tables have turned," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It used to be me calling you, now it’s you who can’t wait, huh?"

You shot him a playful glare. "You picked up fast too, don’t act like you weren’t waiting."

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed casually as he eyed you. "Oh, please. If I didn’t pick up, you’d probably have a meltdown and start butchering Shakespeare again." He laughed darkly. "Which is exactly why I’m going to feed you to the fish unless you apologize for that little performance. And you better do it in your best Shakespearean voice, or I’m hanging up."

You panicked for a second, heart racing as he leaned forward, clearly waiting for your response. "Wait, you’re joking, right?" you asked nervously, but his expression didn’t change.

"Nope. You’ve got five seconds, or I’m out. Five... four..."

You let out a sigh, scrambling for words. "Uh—okay, okay!" You cleared your throat dramatically. "Dearest Ronin, I doth apologize from the deepest pits of mine heart! Thine magnificence is too grand, and I—thy humble servant—have wronged thee in a manner most grievous!"

Ronin leaned back, watching with a grin spreading across his face. He burst into laughter, unable to contain it. "That... was gold, darling. Absolute gold." He was laughing so much he almost tipped back in his chair. You puffed up at his teasing, your cheeks turning pink.

"Stopppp teasing me, Ronin!" you groaned.

Still chuckling, he composed himself. "Alright, alright. You did well, I’ll give you that. But we’re not done yet. I’ve got a real dare for you."

You eyed him warily. "What now?"

His smile turned devilish. "I want you to DM V... and tell him how much you love me. Like, full-on love note, make it good. You’re a writer, right? Pour your heart out. And don’t think I’m joking."

Your heart practically stopped. "You can’t be serious. You know V’s going to kill me, right?"

Ronin didn’t even flinch. "Oh, I know. But I won’t let any serial killer lay a finger on you. Because remember—" His gaze darkened, voice lowering. "Your aorta is mine. I’m the only one who has the right to kiss you... or kill you. And trust me, darling, when it’s time... I’ll do both."

With that, he disconnected the call, leaving you sitting there, breathless.

You giggled, heart racing at how darkly romantic that was. There was something terrifying and thrilling about the way Ronin claimed you so possessively, the way he talked about love and death as if they were intertwined. But then your attention shifted back to the dare. V was not going to let you live after this.

Still, a dare was a dare. You sighed and opened up the group chat with Angel and Misaki, already dreading their reactions, but the thought of Ronin waiting for your next move pushed you forward.

You: "Hey... I need to confess something. You know how Ronin’s been driving me crazy, right? Well, I think I’m in love with him. Like, truly, head-over-heels. The way he teases me, the way he knows me better than I know myself... it’s like he’s in my head, and I can’t get him out. He’s got this hold on me, and I don’t even want to break free. I’m his, and I think I always have been. Just thought you guys should know. ❤️"

Angel: "Even I wasn’t this down bad... Y/n, I CAN’T with you right now." A flood of sob emojis followed her message, her shock almost palpable through the text.

You couldn’t help but snicker to yourself, but before you could type anything back, Misaki jumped in.

Misaki: "HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh my GOD, this is gold! Like, you really just went there!" You imagined her laughing hysterically on the other side, probably screenshotting the whole conversation for later.

But it was V’s reply that really had you shaking your head.

V: "...I’m so done. Completely and utterly done. What did I just read?" You could almost see him rubbing his temples in frustration, his usual calm demeanor strained under the weight of this absurd confession.

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face as you typed out your reply.

You: "Look, I’m just built different, okay? Y’all wouldn’t understand."

Angel sent another message almost immediately.

Angel: " this isn’t ‘built different.’ This is straight-up unhinged, and I respect that." She followed it up with more crying-laughing emojis, clearly amused by how far gone you were.

Misaki wasn’t letting up either.

Misaki: "Nah, you’ve crossed the line into ‘hopelessly obsessed,’ but hey, at least you’re owning it. Respect!"

But V, as expected, was still done with it all.

V: "I genuinely don’t know how you sleep at night. But whatever this is, I want no part of it. Keep me out of your Ronin chaos."

The corners of your mouth twitched, and you giggled to yourself. Ronin had that effect on people, making everything feel like a wild ride they weren’t ready for. And you? You were absolutely reveling in it.

You leaned back in your chair, fingers hovering over the keys, wondering if you should tell Ronin what just happened. But knowing him, he’d probably already be watching from the shadows, amused by the whole thing.

You: "Y’all are just jealous you’re not in the deep end with me. I’ve accepted my fate."

You hit send, watching the chat blow up again, but all you could think about was Ronin. Your mind spiraled back to him—his smirk, the way his voice could send shivers down your spine

You grinned as you sent Ronin the screenshot of the group chat, waiting for his reaction. His reply came in almost immediately.

Ronin: "Good job, darlin’. But it's late... don’t you think you should get some sleep? Recharge those chaotic little brain cells of yours so you’ll be all bright and enthusiastic for tomorrow..." You could practically hear his voice, teasing yet strangely sincere. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, but tonight, you weren’t ready to let the conversation end.

You: "But I wanted you to do one final dare!"

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d fallen asleep on you. But then his message popped up, and your heart raced a little faster.

Ronin: "A final dare, huh? And what would that be? Guess I’ll find out tomorrow, right?"

You bit your lip, an idea forming in your mind, one that you couldn’t shake. It was impulsive, reckless even, but with Ronin... that was kind of the point. You quickly typed out your response, not giving yourself time to second-guess it.

You: "How about... you come over for a sleepover? At my house."

You stared at the screen, feeling your pulse quicken. The seconds stretched on as you waited for his reply. Then, just like that, the notification pinged, and you knew from the start he’d never back down from something like this.

Ronin: "A sleepover, huh? You really are full of surprises. Well, I’m not one to turn down an invitation from my darling, especially one as tempting as this. Fine. I’m in."

You grinned, your excitement barely contained as you typed back.

You: "Great! I’ll make sure to prepare something fun."

Ronin: "Oh, I bet you will. Just make sure you’re ready for whatever comes next. darlin'."

Your fingers hovered over the keys, and you felt a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness. Inviting Ronin over meant taking this whole twisted connection to a new level, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted more of him—more of his dark charm, more of the way he made you feel like you were the only person in his world.

But just as you were about to reply, another message popped up.

Ronin: "Get some sleep. You’re gonna need it."

You smirked, your mind already racing with the possibilities of what tomorrow would bring. Your thoughts, tinged with that dangerous lovesickness, shifted back to the creeping obsession you’d been harboring for a while now. The way Ronin played his little games... it made your blood pump in a way nothing else could.

You walk like a storm, all messy curls and cracked grin, a crowbar slung over your soul, waiting for something to break— or bloom.

You say love’s a game, and I’m the prize you’re twisting, a little porcelain doll to corrupt, to stain with every scar you call devotion. But I see it, Ronin— how you cherish each flaw you etch into me like a masterpiece unfolding beneath your hands.

You say you’re a black hole, pulling me deeper, a gravity well of ruin I’ll never escape. But even a black hole dreams of stars, doesn’t it? Even in your emptiness, you crave the heat of something bright enough to shatter.

Twist me, ruin me, make me grotesque. I’ll play your game, if only to see that glint in your eyes— that flicker of awe, as if for once, you've found something too wild to tame.

And when you’re ten minutes late, grinning with blood on your knuckles, you’ll call me “darling,” like the end of the world is a love story only we understand.

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH EVEN DEATH WON'T DO US APART!

[elysiaheaven]

KC cast when breakup with their s/o!

THIS WAS A PAIN TO WRITE!!

KC cast when breakup with their s/o! This could be ooc for some characters! ^^

Ronin- The Devil's Butcher

“Hey, so…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we talk about us? Like, seriously?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and he straightened, stepping closer. “What’s there to talk about? I thought we were having a blast!” He leaned in, his tone dripping with irony. “You know, living the dream, fighting against the mundane, embracing our tragic romance like the protagonists of some angsty novel?”

“Ronin, stop joking around,” you pleaded, trying to inject some seriousness into the moment. “This isn’t funny. I’m serious.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” He cocked his head to the side, the grin never leaving his lips. “You know I thrive on the ridiculousness of it all. Why break up with you when I can just keep toying with your emotions like a cat with a mouse?”

Your heart sank, confusion mixing with frustration. “You think this is a game? That I’m just some toy for you to play with?”

He stepped back, letting out a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with a twisted delight. “Oh, sweetheart, you know you’re much more than that. You’re like… my favorite game. But maybe I’m just getting bored of playing.”

“Bored?” you echoed, disbelief flooding your voice. “You can’t be serious.”

He shrugged, the casualness of his movements almost mocking. “Oh, I’m dead serious. Think about it. You and me? It’s like the best horror movie plot twist, isn’t it? The classic ‘I can’t handle your intensity, so I’m gonna ghost you’ moment.” He tilted his head, pretending to ponder, then added, “How about we make it a dramatic exit? It’d be so much more entertaining.”

A lump formed in your throat. “So you’re just going to throw this away? Everything we’ve built?”

“Built? Ha! We were more like a rickety shack on the edge of a cliff, darling. All it takes is one little push to watch it tumble into the abyss. And honestly? I’m just not feeling the adrenaline anymore.” He looked at you, his eyes piercing but playful. “I mean, how many more times can I listen to you tell me to stop joking before it gets boring?”

You felt your heart ache, each word cutting deeper. “You’re breaking up with me because you’re bored? Because you think it’s a game?”

“Pretty much.” He smiled, the devilish glint in his eye never fading. “But hey, it’s been a hell of a ride, hasn’t it? Maybe we’ll meet again in some alternate universe, where I’m not such an asshole.”

After the breakup, Ronin maintains his usual devil-may-care attitude, plastering on that signature smirk and making dark jokes to anyone who’ll listen. However, inside, he feels a swirling storm of regret and fear, a feeling he rarely acknowledges. The laughter and playful teasing mask a gnawing worry about the void left in his life.

His love for the theatricality of life makes it hard for him to admit he’s hurting. The post-ironic lens he views the world through twists everything into a dark joke, making it hard for him to understand his own feelings. He chuckles to himself, thinking, Is this the part where I dramatically reflect on my life choices?

Ronin realizes that he enjoyed the challenge of corrupting and rebuilding you, but now it feels like a game lost. He’s torn between his pleasure in manipulation and a deeper, unsettling craving for genuine connection. The thrill of twisting your mind now feels empty without you there to play against.

He finds himself haunted by memories of your time together, often replaying conversations in his mind. The little things—your laughter, your exasperated eye rolls at his dark humor—sting more than he expected. The thought of you moving on fills him with an irrational panic.

In an attempt to distract himself from the ache, Ronin immerses himself in his "work," spiraling deeper into his more devilish tendencies. He takes on riskier jobs, pushing his limits and living dangerously, thinking it might fill the void. However, each time he looks into the eyes of his victims, he sees glimpses of you, and it only deepens his conflict.

Alone at night, when the chaos quiets, the mask begins to slip. He stares at the ceiling, reflecting on what it means to be "the Butcher." The irony isn’t lost on him; here he is, a killer yearning for something real, grappling with emotions he deemed beneath him. The image of your face haunts him, and he wonders if he pushed you away because he feared his own growing attachment.

Ronin feels a sense of freedom in being alone, yet it frightens him. His nature thrives in chaos, and the loss of your vibrant presence leaves him feeling empty. He fears that if he opens up to the idea of missing you, it might lead to a vulnerability he’s not ready to face.

He engages in his twisted thoughts, he reflects on whether he could have manipulated the situation differently, wondering if he should have pushed back against the fear instead of giving in. His mind flirts with the idea of reconnecting, yet he recoils, convinced that his devilish nature could never let him be truly vulnerable with you again.

Ronin begins to write poetry, scribbling down his thoughts in a dark notebook. Each line drips with irony, masked in the guise of self-deprecation and humor, but they reveal the heartache he tries to hide. In those moments, he questions if he’s become the very monster he sought to control, lost to his own games.

In the end, he knows he’ll keep cycling through this madness: flirting with danger, toying with the idea of reaching out, all while holding onto the mask of the devil he has carefully crafted. But deep down, the conflict remains—he misses you more than he’s willing to admit, and the fun of corruption no longer feels like enough to fill the chasm you left behind.

After the breakup, Ronin maintains his usual devil-may-care attitude, plastering on that signature smirk and making dark jokes to anyone who’ll listen. However, inside, he feels a swirling storm of regret and fear. maybe... He will mask it. It's been easy for him...

It's just another tragic love story!!

Ronin slouched in his chair, a scowl etched across his face as he tapped his phone impatiently. Angel had been the only one to check in on him since the breakup, her concern unrelenting even as he tried to distance himself from anyone who might dig deeper. He didn’t need pity; he was the Butcher, the devil in disguise. But the screen lit up with her name, and against his better judgment, he opened the message.

Angel: Hey, just wanted to check in. Have you been okay?

He scoffed at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, hesitant. Didja think I care? Nope.

The response felt empty even as he hit send, and he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. A part of him relished the chance to brush her off, to maintain his devil-may-care image. But there was a gnawing doubt creeping in, an itch beneath his skin.

Angel: You don’t have to pretend with me. You know I care about you, right?

He rolled his eyes, dismissing her concern as he replied, So fun. The sarcasm dripped off his words like poison, but as soon as he hit send, he felt a hollowness settle in his chest.

He wasn't usually like this to angel..

As he stood up from the seat, he felt the weight of the world pressing down on him, the playful bravado fading with every step. He walked to the mirror, the harsh light exposing the cracks in his carefully curated facade. His heart raced, pounding like a drum in the silence.

Staring at his reflection, he felt a tremor in his hands. The smirk, the bravado, the devilish charm—none of it felt real anymore. In that moment, the mask slipped, and he let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in his eyes.

Even the devil can cry, he thought bitterly, feeling the warmth trickle down his cheeks. He’d buried his heart at Angelwood, thinking he could forget that it ever existed. But the truth was, it was still there, dormant but never gone, lingering beneath layers of irony and cruelty. It throbbed painfully in the wake of your absence, a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

The irony twisted in his gut; he had reveled in his chaos, played the part of the heartless killer, but beneath it all, he was just a man. A man who let himself feel, and now, that feeling was tearing him apart. Each drop of sorrow felt like a nail in the coffin he’d built around his heart, and no amount of darkness could extinguish the light that had once burned so brightly for you.

He took a step back, the reflection in the glass warping under the weight of his emotions. The devil might have loved too deeply, too fiercely, and now he was left with nothing but echoes of laughter and moments that would haunt him like shadows.

Ronin wiped at his eyes, anger bubbling up to mask the pain. Get it together, he thought, but deep down, he knew the truth. He missed you—more than he’d ever let on, more than he’d ever wanted to admit. The heart he thought he buried was alive and well, and it ached like a fresh wound.

V- Batman

You stood with your hands in the soil, tending to a row of young saplings. The scent of damp earth filled the air, a familiar comfort you always found with V. But tonight, something felt different—colder.

He stood nearby, watching you in silence. His arms crossed, his sharp, unreadable gaze fixed on the plants you were nurturing so carefully.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and even, like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. “We need to talk.”

You glanced up, wiping your hands on a rag, sensing the weight behind his words. “V, what’s going on?”

There was a pause—one of those long, uncomfortable silences he often wielded like a weapon. His expression remained stone-cold, but his fingers tapped lightly against his forearm, betraying the tiniest flicker of hesitation.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said at last, “about us. About what I want. What I need. And… I shouldn’t have weaknesses. Not like this.”

The words hit like a sudden frost settling over the warmth of the greenhouse. You frowned, feeling something twist uncomfortably in your chest. “What are you talking about? Weakness?”

He exhaled slowly, as though every word had to be calculated. “Loving you is a liability. You make me…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes as if admitting the truth to himself was almost offensive. “Vulnerable.”

You blinked, a knot tightening in your throat. “So what, you’re saying you care too much? That it’s a bad thing?”

He gave you that familiar, detached look—the one that always frustrated you because it made you feel like your words were being weighed and found lacking. “It is,” he said matter-of-factly. “If I care, I’ll hesitate. If I hesitate… I lose.”

“Lose?” You stepped forward, trying to make sense of the walls he was building. “V, this isn’t some tactical mission. This is us. You don’t have to fight me like I’m the enemy.”

He didn’t move away when you closed the space between you, but his posture stiffened—like he was bracing himself, fighting the urge to soften. His gaze flickered briefly to the plants behind you, and something about the way he looked at them made your heart ache. He had always admired your ability to nurture life. Maybe that was part of the problem.

“Don’t you get it?” he murmured, the faintest crack slipping into his otherwise steady voice. “You’re the kind of person who brings things to life. And I’m… I’m not built for that. I’ve spent my whole life trying to eliminate threats, avoid attachments. If I let you stay, I’ll start—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “I’ll start believing that something good can last. That I could keep it.”

“And that scares you.” Your voice was soft, but it wasn’t a question.

He gave a small, bitter smile—barely more than a twitch of his lips. “More than you know.”

You reached for him, but he took a step back, the movement as deliberate as the rest of him.

“This isn’t about you,” he said quietly, but with finality. “It’s about me. I need to be in control. Of myself. Of everything.”

“So what?” you asked, anger creeping into your voice. “You’re just going to walk away because loving me makes you feel human?”

He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Then he gave a short, almost mechanical nod, as if he’d already accepted the conclusion long before this conversation started. “Yes.”

The word was sharp and precise, like a scalpel cutting away what remained of your relationship.

You stared at him, the anger dissolving into disbelief. “That’s it?”

His gaze softened, just for a moment—a fleeting crack in the armor he wore so tightly. “I wish it could be different. But this… this isn’t who I’m supposed to be.”

“V,” you whispered, hoping, praying for something—anything—that would prove he still felt what you knew he did.

He looked at you for a long, agonizing moment, as if memorizing your face, storing it away somewhere deep inside where even he wouldn’t be able to touch it again. Then, in the cold, measured tone that defined him, he said:

“Take care of the yourself.”

And just like that, he turned and left, his footsteps quiet and steady, as if the weight of the world didn’t press down on his shoulders with every step.

You stood there, rooted in place, surrounded by the life you had nurtured together. But the warmth that had once existed between you was gone, replaced by the cold absence of a man too afraid to let himself love.

After breakup

After the breakup, V seems completely unaffected to anyone who looks at him. He keeps his composure—his face neutral, his voice flat. But in reality, every moment feels heavier than the last, as if the air around him thickens with regret. He doesn’t say it aloud, but your absence clings to him like a bruise, slow to fade.

He throws himself into routines: feeding stray animals, taking care of his birdies

V starts taking longer and longer walks at night, finding solace in animals—creatures who don’t demand emotional explanations or try to decipher the complicated labyrinth of his thoughts. He prefers their company now; they don’t pry. But every time he comes across a familiar place where the two of you once spent time together, the ache sharpens in his chest. He curses himself for noticing. He curses you for lingering, even when you’re not there.

In his mind, the breakup was the logical choice. You deserved someone softer, someone better suited for a future with gardens and pets that didn’t come with the looming shadow of death. His cold detachment was supposed to make things easier for both of you—cleaner. But it didn’t. Not for him. No matter how much he tries to rationalize it, the feelings linger, gnawing at him like ivy curling through the cracks of his armor.

V was drawn to your nurturing side, but that also terrified him. You made him feel safe, and that safety was unsettling. What kind of monster finds comfort in someone so good? You balanced the chaos in him with quiet strength, but that only made his darkest impulses feel more dangerous in comparison. Loving you made him feel seen—and he hated that more than anything.

V drafts messages to you late at night, only to delete them before they’re ever sent. “How are the flowers? The white ones should bloom this week.” He knows you’re better off without him. Still, his thumb hovers over the send button sometimes, just long enough to remind him how easy it would be to drag you back into his world.

He convinces himself that he’s done the right thing. But when he sees you smiling with someone new—someone who fits the life you deserve—it’s like a knife twisting in his chest. His expression doesn’t change, but his hands clench so tightly his knuckles turn white. If he were any less disciplined, he might’ve killed them right there. He tells himself it’s jealousy, but deep down, he knows it’s grief.

The animals he cares for—strays, birds, the creatures that flock to him—pick up on his sadness. A stray cat curls up in his lap, sensing the heaviness in him. He brushes his fingers over its fur absentmindedly, realizing for the first time that animals understand heartbreak better than most people. It’s a strange kind of comfort, but not enough to fill the space you left behind.

On nights when the loneliness becomes unbearable, V sits in the garden under the moonlight, staring at the plants the two of you nurtured together. He tells himself it was inevitable, that he had to let you go. But sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, he wonders if it was all just fear. Fear that you’d unravel him completely. Fear that someone as good as you could never truly love someone like him.

V doesn’t believe in sentimental nonsense. But you were the closest thing he’d ever come to a home. He knows now that even the coldest creatures crave warmth—and he found it in you. But instead of basking in it, he let his fear drive you away. And now, all he can do is live with the knowledge that he traded his one chance at happiness for the hollow comfort of control.

He repeats it like a mantra—It’s better this way. But the words feel empty. As he tends to the plants alone, surrounded by the animals that will never ask the questions he can’t answer, the truth settles in: Losing you wasn’t just painful—it was the kind of mistake you can never undo.

Misaki- The baby

You can tell something is off the second Misaki steps through the window , a familiar grin plastered across their face but… it doesn’t reach her eyes. There’s a weight she’s trying to hide behind that goofy, energetic exterior, but it slips through the cracks—just enough for you to notice.

“Heyyyy! Guess who’s here!” she singsongs, throwing her arms up dramatically, like this is some routine. Like everything is fine.

But you know it isn’t. You can see it in the way their hands fidget with the cuffs of her sleeves, how their gaze darts around the room, never quite landing on you. She’s stalling.

"Misaki," you say gently. "What’s going on?"

She drops onto the couch, kicking off her shoes in that chaotic, carefree way of hers. But the moment she speaks, you hear the tension threading through her voice, coiled tight like a wire ready to snap.

"So," she says with a forced grin, "you ever, uh... just know when something's not working? Like, you’re throwing everything at it—your whole heart, even—and it’s still like... hmmm... maybe this isn’t it." She laughs, but it’s sharp, brittle. “Yeah, so… that’s kinda what I’ve been thinking."

Your heart sinks. “What are you saying?”

She makes finger guns, like this whole thing is a joke. Like it’s not ripping her apart inside. "Ding ding ding! Breakup, baby! You win!" Their voice is too loud, too bright, and it makes your chest hurt because this is Misaki, hiding behind humor like it’s armor.

"Misaki... stop joking. What’s really going on?"

She freezes, and for a second, you catch the flash of something raw in her eyes—panic, maybe. Fear. She rubs at the back of their neck, suddenly looking smaller than usual despite their big personality.

“I mean it,” she says, softer now. "I’ve been thinking... and I don’t think I can do this. I love you. I do. But I don’t think I know how to be with you." their voice cracks on the last word, and she tries to cover it with a shaky laugh.

"I thought maybe if I acted normal, if I kept being goofy, I could pretend it was fine. But it’s not fine, and I can’t keep faking it."

There’s a long silence between you. You search their face, looking for something to latch onto, some way to fix this. But she won’t meet your gaze—just stares at their hands, as if they might hold answers she can’t find.

You want to say something, anything, but before you can, she stands up abruptly, forcing a grin. "Hey, no hard feelings, okay? We had a good run! And honestly, who else would put up with me for this long? You're a saint." She laughs again, but this one sounds more like a sob.

"Misaki—"

"Don’t," she interrupts, holding up a hand. "If you say something sweet, I swear I'll lose it."

You can only watch as she grabs their stuff and heads toward the door, moving too quickly, like she’s afraid she’ll change their mind if she stays a second longer. She pauses with their hand on the doorknob, finally glancing back at you with a crooked, bittersweet smile.

"Take care of yourself, okay? And... eat something that’s not ramen for once, idiot." Her voice wavers, but she gives you one last grin—bright and broken, just like them—and then she’s gone.

Misaki keeps up their bubbly, chaotic energy around others. They crack jokes, flirt, and prank their friends even harder, desperate to keep things light. But the more they joke, the hollower it feels. It’s all performance, and they know it—hoping that if they pretend long enough, the ache in their chest will fade.

At night, when they're finally alone, the mask slips. They lie in bed, scrolling through old texts, hovering over the call button but never pressing it. They stare at photos of the two of you together until their eyes blur with tears. Without anyone to laugh with, their humor shatters, leaving them to drown in silence.

Some nights, they're furious—angry at themself for not making things work, for ruining something good. Other times, they direct the blame toward you in petty ways: If only they tried harder… But beneath it all, Misaki knows the truth—it wasn't anyone's fault. And that truth stings the most. It was theirs...

Misaki starts calling random friends or coworkers during missions—anyone who’ll listen, even if the conversation is meaningless. They just need a familiar voice to fill the silence, laughing too hard at jokes that aren’t even funny. It’s not you, but it’s the closest they can get.

They still cook elaborate meals, even though it’s only for themself. Sometimes, out of habit, they set two plates—only to realize halfway through and shove the extra one back into the cabinet with trembling hands.

The worst moments are when they catch themself about to say something only you would understand—a dumb inside joke, a shared quip. They pause mid-sentence, force an awkward laugh, and change the topic. But every time it happens, it feels like a tiny knife twisting deeper in their chest.

They dive headfirst into anything to keep busy—missions, side hustles, parties. They flirt harder, act sillier, laugh louder. But nothing sticks. The more they try to drown the feelings, the heavier the emptiness becomes.

Even on the brink of falling apart, Misaki will still be the one wiping a friend's tears and giving pep talks. They’ve always been the goofy, reliable one. Showing their hurt feels like admitting defeat, so they bottle it up, letting it fester inside.

When they finally stop moving—standing in the shower or waiting for water to boil—the thoughts creep in. They’ll remember a tiny, stupid detail about you—how you liked your eggs, or the way you hummed that one song—and it breaks them all over again.

They’ve convinced themself that you're better off without them. They’re probably happier now. This is for the best. They repeat it like a mantra, hoping that one day it will feel true. But it never does.

A tiny part of them still hopes you’ll reach out. Every notification makes their heart race, even though they know it’s foolish. And every time it’s not you, it feels like a punch to the gut.

They make light jokes about the breakup to friends, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Ha, relationships are overrated, right?” But if someone lingers too long on the topic, their laugh falters, and they change the subject as quickly as they can.

Misaki acts unbothered—they smile, wave, maybe even throw out a playful joke. But the moment they’re alone, they crumble, staring at their reflection in a window or a mirror and whispering, Why wasn’t I enough?

Misaki keeps telling themself they’ll bounce back—I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive this, too. But deep down, they know that some scars never truly heal. And this one? It’s going to stay with them for a long, long time.

Angel-Heartsick

Angel sits across from you, her usual radiant smile nowhere to be found. Instead, her lips are pressed into a tight line, and she’s nervously tapping her foot—a rare crack in her poised demeanor. You know something is coming, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a storm waiting to break.

She takes a deep breath, brushing a hand through her perfectly styled hair. "Okay, listen, this is… really hard for me, but I need to say it." Her voice wavers, not from uncertainty, but from the effort of keeping herself together.

"It’s not you. I swear it’s not. And, ugh, I hate how cliché that sounds," she huffs, forcing out a laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes. "I just… I’ve been thinking, and I feel like I’m dragging you through something you didn’t sign up for. I try to be this fun, easygoing person, but you’ve seen what’s underneath. The spirals. The breakdowns."

Her fingers fiddle with the edge of her sleeve, a nervous tic you rarely see. "I thought I could handle everything. Work, us, my brain… But I can’t. And it’s not fair to you." She pauses, her chest rising with another heavy breath. "You’ve been… amazing, honestly. But I don’t think I know how to be what you need, not when I’m still figuring out how to take care of myself."

Her eyes shimmer, but she fights back the tears, refusing to let them fall. "I thought maybe if I tried harder, if I just kept pushing, we could make it work. But now… now I think I’d only hurt you more in the end."

Her voice breaks slightly as she continues. "I care about you so much. Too much. And that’s why I have to let you go." The words hang in the air, sharp and final, like the snap of a closing door.

She reaches out, briefly touching your hand before pulling away like she can’t bear the contact. "You deserve someone who can be fully present, and I need to be alone for a while. To figure things out, for real this time."

A bitter, self-deprecating smile curls her lips. "Maybe one day, when I’m not such a mess, we can find each other again. But right now? I think we both deserve better than what I can give."

Angel puts on a brave face for her followers and fans, continuing to post her usual cheerful content, but inside, she feels like she’s crumbling. She hides her heartbreak behind edited videos and vibrant filters, desperately trying to convince everyone—and herself—that she’s okay.

When the cameras are off, she often finds herself lying in bed, scrolling through old pictures and messages from you. Late at night, when the world is quiet, the tears come. She stares at the ceiling, feeling the weight of her choices pressing down like a heavy blanket.

Even when surrounded by friends and fans, she feels a profound sense of loneliness. Their laughter and cheers fade into white noise, and all she can think about is how they don’t know the real her—the one who’s struggling, the one who misses you deeply.

Random moments trigger memories of you, whether it’s a song playing in the background or a dish you both loved. Each reminder feels like a fresh wound, slicing through her carefully constructed facade. She’ll smile on the outside, but inside, it feels like everything is unraveling.

Editing videos becomes a bittersweet task. Sometimes she’ll leave in bloopers or comments about you, only to cringe afterward and cut them out. It’s a constant battle between nostalgia and pain, and she often wonders if she’ll ever be able to look at those memories without hurting.

Whenever she starts to spiral into her dark thoughts, it feels like a tidal wave crashing over her. She worries that she’ll never feel “normal” again, and her thoughts race with anxiety, self-doubt, and regrets. On particularly hard days, she feels trapped in her own mind.

Angel throws herself into her work, often taking on extra projects and collaborations to keep her mind occupied. But deep down, she knows it’s a temporary fix; the happiness it brings doesn’t fill the void left by you.

She reaches out to friends more often, craving their presence but feeling guilty for leaning on them too much. Her internal monologue battles with the fear that she’s becoming a burden, and she hides her real feelings to avoid dragging anyone down with her.

“I’m Fine” - The phrase becomes a shield against probing questions, even though she’s anything but fine. When friends ask how she’s doing, she forces a smile and replies, “I’m fine!” but she can feel the cracks in her voice.

Her manic episodes return with a vengeance, and she feels like she’s on a rollercoaster of emotions—sometimes feeling hopeful, other times spiraling into despair. It’s exhausting, and she struggles to keep up with herself.

She finds herself typing out messages to you, only to delete them before hitting send. The urge to reach out is strong, but the fear of rejection and the pain of facing reality keeps her from doing so.

Her dreams are filled with memories of you—happy moments twisted into something bittersweet. She wakes up in the middle of the night, heart racing, clutching her pillow and wishing it were you.

Despite everything, there’s a part of her that clings to the hope that things might change. She often daydreams about a future where she’s healed, where you could be together again, but that hope feels more like a curse than a blessing.

Angel tries to channel her emotions into creative outlets, like painting or journaling. It’s cathartic, but she often finds herself stuck, unable to translate the whirlwind of feelings into words or images.