đŠđ§đđ§đđ đ đŹ đđđđ„đ§!-đđšđ§đąđ§ đ± đđđ§đ§đąđđđ„ đđđđđđ« đ± đđ§đ đđ„-(Part 2)
Genre: Dark Horror, Psychological Thriller, Gore, Obsession & Obsessive Love, Psychological Abuse, Crime & Thriller
(Reader is G.N) (A cannibal Reader, I don't support these! Just writing them!)
Follows a twisted, sadistic you who presents themselves as a sweet baker but harbors a gruesome obsession with murder and cannibalism. Your appearance is grotesque, with stitches all over their body, and their bakery serves as a cover for a far darker purposeâusing human flesh in your pastries. You met Angel who became your dear person. You get invited to the server,
The story is filled with graphic violence, disturbing themes of control, obsession.
Trigger Warnings and Content Warnings:
Violence and Gore: The content features explicit descriptions of violent actions, including graphic depictions of murder, dismemberment, and physical injury. The themes of torture and the pleasure derived from violence are present throughout.
Mental Health and Obsessive Behavior: There are elements of unhealthy obsession, possessiveness, and manipulation, particularly in the relationships between the characters. Themes of emotional trauma, self-doubt, and psychological instability are explored.
Cannibalism: References to cannibalism are present, with detailed discussions of cutting, eating, and dissection of bodies.
Sexual Themes: There are implied themes of dark and twisted romantic relationships, including non-consensual dynamics, manipulation, and obsession. This includes sexualized violence and threats.
Self-Harm: References to physical injury, mutilation, and self-inflicted harm, including the imagery of stitches coming undone and body parts falling off, are depicted.
Dark Romanticization: The portrayal of relationships is toxic, with power imbalances, manipulation, and destructive behavior.
Death and Murder: Graphic depictions of death, including the murder of both fictional and real people, are central to the narrative. The thrill and pleasure derived from killing are explored.
Emotional Abuse: Themes of manipulation, psychological control, and emotional manipulation are present in the interactions between the characters.
Disturbing Imagery and Themes: Content involving body horror, the macabre, and disturbing imagery related to the human form is featured.
Please proceed with caution if these triggers could cause distress. If you experience any discomfort during our exchange, feel free to pause or end the roleplay at your discretion.
Time moved fast, and now it was a new yearâ2025. February 14. Valentineâs Day.
Your hands worked diligently, filling orders at the shop, the sweet and savory scents of baked goods filling the air. But even while working, your laptop stayed open, screen glowing with the serverâs chat. You couldnât help but check inâit was your little slice of chaos.
<Zombie>:
Quit hogging her, you freak. Omg.
The irritation bubbled up. That bastard Ronin always had a way of making Angel feel... foolish. You didnât like it.
<goreboy>:
My love runs deeper than wells and goes halfway into Hell.
What can I say? Iâm irresistible.
<Angelic>:
@goreboy Youâre so...
<Zombie>:
I wanna eat him. Angel, can I?
Though, honestly, I have no idea how you managed to bag Angel, Ronin.
<goreboy>:
Ah Well there's this thing called Loneliness and also Hey Ronin's Right There.
You couldn't shake the way Ronin's words stuck with you, lingering like the sour aftertaste of bad wine. Without much thought, your fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up his DMs.
<Zombie (DMs):
Are you okay?
It didnât take long for him to respond.
<goreboy (DMs):
Why, darling? Missing me already? Or are you checking in because I said something about being lonely?
You frowned at the screen, typing back quickly.
<Zombie (DMs):
Why did you say that? Are you okay or not?
His reply came almost immediately, as if he was waiting for your reaction.
<goreboy (DMs):
Itâs called a joke, sweetheart. Ever heard of one? Why so serious?
You leaned back in your chair, exhaling through your nose before typing your next message.
<Zombie (DMs):
Because ingredients shouldnât feel bad.
There was a pause on his end. You could almost picture him smirking at the screen, intrigued and a little off-kilter.
<goreboy (DMs):
Ingredients?
<Zombie (DMs):
Yeah. If ingredients feel bad, they might lose their charm.
<goreboy (DMs):
Oh, do tell me how that works, Chef Zombie.
<Zombie (DMs):
Itâs simple. Ingredients are more valuable when theyâre warm, vibrant, full of lifeâor whatever you have that passes for it. If something rots too early, itâs a waste. Thatâs why Iâm asking if youâre okay. Keeping you from spoiling.
You hit send, waiting for his reaction. When it came, it was both exactly what you expected and somehow surprising.
<goreboy (DMs):
Keeping me warm, huh? What a tender little butcher you are. Almost makes me think you care.
You smirked to yourself, fingers poised to respond.
<Zombie (DMs):
I donât. I just hate waste.
His typing indicator flickered on and off for a moment before his reply came through.
<goreboy (DMs):
Sure, sure, Zombie. Whatever helps you sleep at night.
You shifted in your seat, typing away as the tension of the conversation lingered in the back of your mind. Your fingers hovered for a moment before sending your next message to Ronin.
<Zombie (DMs):
I still wanna eat you, by the way. Donât get it twisted. Iâm only helping you with the Angel stuff because itâs interesting. Thatâs all.
The response came quicker than expected, his tone practically dripping through the screen.
<goreboy (DMs):
Oh, darling, youâve made that abundantly clear. But go on, Iâm curious. Whatâs got you so curious about Angel and me?
You huffed, staring at his reply before leaning forward.
<Zombie (DMs):
I just⊠feel weird about it. How do you even care about her this much? Itâs all so⊠I have so many thoughts about this, but it doesnât make sense.
<goreboy (DMs):
Whatâs there to make sense of? Weâre friends, sweetheart. I look out for her. Simple as that.
You narrowed your eyes, feeling the urge to pick at his words.
<Zombie (DMs):
No. Itâs not that simple. Itâs way more than that. You donât get this kind of attachment for no reason. Spill. Why do you care about her this much? Why did you two even get together in the first place?
The typing indicator blinked on and off for a long moment, like he was deliberating how much he wanted to say.
<goreboy (DMs):
You really wanna know? Alright, fine. But donât say I never gave you anything.
There was a pause, and then the explanation began, his words surprisingly thoughtful, measured in a way you didnât expect from someone like him.
<goreboy (DMs):
Angel and I got together out of⊠proximity. We were the only ones who really understood each other back then. The server was emptyâjust us for weeks. When itâs just you and another person, sparks happen, you know? It wasnât love. It was convenience, loneliness. And she felt safe with me.
You raised an eyebrow at the admission, watching his next messages roll in.
<goreboy (DMs):
Angelâs been through it. Men who donât respect her, donât listen. Iâm not like them. Boundaries matter to me. I didnât push her where she didnât want to go. And yeah, me being trans helped her feel like she could trust me. Not like those other guys who see her as some prize. With me? She didnât feel like that.
Another pause, and you could sense the weight in his words.
<goreboy (DMs):
And for me? She reminded me of someone. Ther. My first love. Someone I⊠lost a long time ago. Angel isnât them. Sheâll never be them. But for a while, she felt close enough that I could pretend. We clicked because we were using each other, really. She was processing her feelings about men, and I was⊠processing Ther.
<Zombie (DMs):
So what happened?
<goreboy (DMs):
We figured it out. Realized we were leaning on each other for all the wrong reasons. It wasnât loveâit was coping. And when that realization hit, we broke it off. But we stayed close. Sheâs my friend now. My girl, but not in that way. Not anymore.
You stared at the screen, chewing over his words.
<Zombie (DMs):
Thatâs⊠a lot. Still doesnât explain why youâre all over her business.
<goreboy (DMs):
Because I care, darling. Sheâs been through enough. She deserves someone in her corner. If I can be that person, then why not?
You leaned back, rereading the messages, feeling your lips twitch into a small, knowing smile.
<Zombie (DMs):
Youâre not completely rotten, are you?
<goreboy (DMs):
Whatâs that supposed to mean?
<Zombie (DMs):
Just that Iâm noticing things. You care about her. Like, actually care. Itâs not all for show.
There was a long pause before he finally replied.
<goreboy (DMs):
Donât get used to it, sweetheart.
You leaned forward, staring at the screen, his words replaying in your head. Something was bothering you, and curiosity burned hotter than caution.
<Zombie (DMs):
So⊠youâre trans? Is that why?
A few moments passed before the typing indicator appeared.
<goreboy (DMs):
Why what?
<Zombie (DMs):
Why Angel felt safe with you.
The typing indicator flickered again, and then a response came.
<goreboy (DMs):
Yeah. Thatâs why. She didnât have to worry about the same things with me as she did with other men. Simple as that.
You mulled over his words, hesitating before diving into your next question.
<Zombie (DMs):
And⊠whoâs Ther?
There was a long silence before his reply.
<Zombie (DMs):
Someone close to you?
<goreboy (DMs):
You could say that.
You tilted your head, curious but careful, when suddenly he dropped something unexpected.
<goreboy (DMs):
Ther and I used to eat apple crumble ice cream together. That was their favorite.
Your brows raised at the sudden shift, a personal detail woven into an otherwise guarded conversation.
<goreboy (DMs):
Yeah. They said it was like eating a little piece of comfort. I thought it was too sweet, but Iâd still share it with them.
You stared at the screen, your chest tightening at the quiet vulnerability in his words.
<Zombie (DMs):
You cared about them a lot, didnât you?
<goreboy (DMs):
Didnât I say itâs none of your business?
The sharpness in his tone was back, but it didnât scare you off.
<Zombie (DMs):
Youâre more interesting when you let things slip, you know.
His reply came quickly this time.
<goreboy (DMs):
Careful, sweetheart. Youâre starting to sound too interested.
You smirked, but before you could tease him further, he typed again.
<goreboy (DMs):
Yes, Iâm the devil, like you say. The big bad Devilâs Butcher. Youâve said it yourself.
You hesitated, reading between the lines of his sudden bravado.
<Zombie (DMs):
You mean you see yourself as the devil⊠because of where you grew up, donât you?
He didnât reply immediately, and you decided not to push. There was something raw in his sudden quiet, something that felt like an unspoken confirmation.
<Zombie (DMs):
I get it. You donât have to say it.
The typing indicator returned one last time.
<goreboy (DMs):
Good. Donât pry too much, darling. Youâre already pushing your luck.
<Zombie (DMs):
Ugh, I had such a day today. This guy was so sufferable.
<goreboy (DMs):
Sufferable? Donât you mean insufferable?
<Zombie (DMs):
Nope. Sufferable. As in, he suffered. A lot. He wouldnât stop whiningââplease, donât do this, Iâll do anything, blah blah blah.â
<goreboy (DMs):
Ah, one of those types. No appreciation for artistry.
<Zombie (DMs):
Exactly! And, oh my god, he stank. Like stinky-stank levels. The guy smelled like heâd been dead before I even got to him.
<goreboy (DMs):
Rotten ones are the worst. Did you at least finish the job, or are you venting halfway through?
<Zombie (DMs):
Finished it. Trust me, I was doing the world a favor. The stench is just lingering in my head. Gross.
<goreboy (DMs):
Youâre complaining to me about stench? Sweetheart, Iâve gutted guys whose insides looked like a meat stew left out in the sun. Rotting doesnât even begin to cover it.
<Zombie (DMs):
Okay, but thatâs your thing. Youâre like... âRotten Meat Aesthetic.â I donât want it lingering in my place. He even got blood on my favorite knifeâlike, so much.
<goreboy (DMs):
The favorite knife? Damn. Thatâs personal. Whatâd he do to deserve such VIP treatment?
You smirked, thinking about the events of the day.
<Zombie (DMs):
He is a ex fan of Angel. He was one of the idiots hating on her. Big mistake.
There was a pause before his reply.
<goreboy (DMs):
...You didnât tell her, did you?
<Zombie (DMs):
Of course not. Itâd ruin the fun. Besides, she doesnât need to know how far Iâll go to keep her safe.
<goreboy (DMs):
Hah. Protective and possessive. I almost wanna say âcute,â but you might take it as a compliment.
<Zombie (DMs):
It is a compliment. You can say it.
<goreboy (DMs):
Dream on.
You laughed softly to yourself, satisfied with how the day had turned out, even if the guyâs smell was still a distant memory. You leaned back in your chair, staring at the chat.
<Zombie (DMs):
Anyway, todayâs work is done. Iâm taking a shower and purging the stink out of my life.
<goreboy (DMs):
Enjoy your little ritual, darling. And donât forgetânext time, keep the rotten ones to a minimum.
<Zombie (DMs):
Noted. But you know I wonât.
Angel dmed you next, the sweet sinner!
<Angelic (DMs):
Hey, did you catch my interview today?
<Zombie (DMs):
Of course I did. I always do.
<Angelic (DMs):
Haha, you never miss anything, huh? Itâs like youâre always watching... a lot.
Your fingers paused over the keyboard before you responded.
<Zombie (DMs):
Itâs not like that. I just... want to make sure youâre safe. Thatâs all.
There was a moment of hesitation in her next reply.
<Angelic (DMs):
...Safe? From what?
<Zombie (DMs):
From everything. The world is ugly, Angel. Cruel and dangerous. But you... youâre not like that. Youâre not ugly. Youâre pure, like something out of a dream. Perfect, even.
Her reply took longer than usual this time.
<Angelic (DMs):
...Okay, thatâs a lot. You sound... really intense.
<Zombie (DMs):
You donât get it. Youâre a miracle in this broken world. Something to be protected, cherished. A god walking among us.
<Angelic (DMs):
Stop it, Zombie. Seriously. Iâm just... a person. A human. With flaws. đ
Your expression softened at her response, but your obsession wouldnât let go.
<Zombie (DMs):
You might think that, but youâre wrong. I see what others donât. Youâre not just a human to me, Angel. Youâre the light in the dark. The reason the rest of us keep going.
<Angelic (DMs):
I donât even know what to say to that. Youâre too much sometimes.
You stared at her message, debating how to respond. For now, you decided to leave it, letting your words linger like a prayer on her screen.
[Angelicc]
Also, also, another thingâTHE INTERVIEW asked me about my manager???
She totally hated Finian for some reason.
It was surreal, because I didnât even know THEY knew Finian personally.
Didnât make it into the final writeup, but wow.
[Zombie]
He sounds like a bad manager, Angel.
[Angelicc]
Ahh, he really isnât! Honestly.
Finianâs a bit... demanding, but everyone in the industry is. You know how it is.
...
I donât know what to think about him, though, to be honest.
Like, heâs not a good guy, I guess? She was probably right about that.
But heâs not the worst, you know? Compared to the bottom-of-the-barrel men Iâve dealt with before...
Whatever. I donât want to dwell on it.
Anyway!!! Do YOU have anything to tell me?
<Zombie>
[08:44]
I hate your manager.
<Angelic>
[08:44]
What? Why?
<Zombie>
[08:45]
I want to take care of it if heâs scaring you.
<Angelic>
[08:45]
No! Donât even think about it. Finian is fine. Donât do anything... please.
<Zombie>
[08:47]
Why are you so selfless?
<Angelic>
[08:48]
...What are you doing right now?
Her sudden question, her obvious attempt to change the topic, made your blood simmer, but you forced the anger down.
<Zombie>
[08:49]
Iâm... making something.
Your words felt sharp, clipped, but she didnât seem to noticeâor maybe she chose not
<Zombie>
[08:50]
Heâs so fucking shit. He sounds like an ass. Why are you like this, Angel? Why do you put up with him?
<Angelic>
[08:50]
Excuse me?
<Zombie>
[08:51]
You deserve better than some demanding jerk who doesnât even treat you right. Why do you always let people like him stick around?
<Angelic>
[08:52]
You donât know anything about him! Or me! Finian isnât perfect, but heâs not the worst person in the world either. Iâve had to deal with way worse. HAVE YOU SEEN THE MEN I KILLED?
<Zombie>
[08:53]
Thatâs the problem, Angel. You settle. You just accept that people treat you like garbage because youâve dealt with worse before. Donât you see how messed up that is?
<Angelic>
[08:54]
You donât get to tell me how to live my life! Youâre not me. You donât understand the industry, the pressure, or anything Iâve been through. Youâre just... acting like you know everything when you donât.
<Zombie>
[08:55]
I donât have to understand everything to see you deserve more than this. Youâre not some charity case for assholes who donât appreciate you.
<Angelic>
[08:56]
Stop it! Just stop! Why are you acting like this?
<Zombie>
[08:57]
Because I care about you.
The words hung in the airâor rather, the digital void between you. You stared at your screen, waiting for her to reply, your hands twitching with the urge to type more, to explain yourself, to argue more if needed.
<Angelic>
[08:59]
...I donât want to fight with you.
The fight drained out of you in an instant. Her words were soft but firm, enough to make you bite back your next sentence.
<Zombie>
[09:00]
I donât want to fight either...
There was a long pause. The silence on her end was deafening.
<Angelic>
[09:02]
I just want things to stay the way they are. Please.
You clenched your jaw. Of course, she did. She always wanted peace, even at her own expense.
<Zombie>
[09:03]
...Fine.
You stared at the blank screen, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter until something in you snapped. Literally.
Your right eye popped out of its socket, dangling grotesquely against your cheek. You groaned in frustration, not painâit wasnât new. You grabbed the slippery orb with trembling hands, shoved it back in place, and blinked a few times to get it to stay.
But as you reached for the keyboard, your left index finger decided it had had enough, cracking off at the knuckle and clattering onto the desk with a wet thud.
âGod damn it,â you muttered through clenched teeth, your voice shaking.
You picked up the detached digit, the sinew dangling like some grotesque string of tinsel, and shoved it back into place. Blood, dark and congealed, seeped through the seams as you gritted your teeth and pressed it back into position. It stuck, for now.
Hot, furious, and stinging, they rolled down your cheeks as you slammed a fist against the table, your body trembling with emotion. "Why do I care so much about her?" you whispered hoarsely, the words barely audible over your own ragged breathing. "Why does she have to be so... her?"
You thought of Angel, her ethereal presence, her voice, her light that seemed so untouchable yet so tempting. You wanted to keep her safe, to protect her, to worship her like the god she could never see herself as. But she didn't want it. She wanted normalcy.
And then there was Ronin.
Your mind reeled at the thought of himâchaotic, alluring, dangerous. A perfect mess of a man who didnât hide his rot but flaunted it, wore it like a crown. You hated how much you needed to see him split open, to peer inside and find out if his heart was truly rotten... or if there was something beautiful hidden in the decay.
You leaned back, staring at your hands, now bloodied and trembling.
"Maybe..." you murmured to the empty room, your voice hollow. "If I just choose one, I could feel something real again. Maybe my heart could... work."
The room was silent except for your uneven breathing. The urge clawed at you, relentless, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You wanted to feel.
Your trembling hands moved almost on their own, reaching for the scalpel you'd been toying with earlier. Slowly, deliberately, you pressed the blade against your chest. The first cut was shallow, testing the resistance of your skin, but the next was deeperâsharp enough to split the flesh. Blood oozed out, warm and dark, staining your clothes and pooling in your lap.
You didnât stop. You couldnât.
The pain didnât matter; it was almost soothing, grounding you as your trembling fingers dug into the split. You peeled back the layers of skin, the grotesque sound of tearing flesh filling the room as you exposed the cage of your ribs.
With a manic determination, you pried them apart, your blood-slicked hands reaching inside, feeling the erratic thrum of your heart.
And then, there it wasâpulsing, trembling, weak. A pathetic thing, wrapped in sinew and veins, yet still stubbornly beating.
You stared at it, blood smeared across your face, tears mixing with the mess. "Youâre broken," you whispered, voice trembling. "You donât work right. You donât feel right."
Your lips curled into a crazed smile as your fingers tightened around the organ. "Maybe one of them could fix you. Stitch you up. Make you whole."
You giggled, your chest open and raw, your blood-smeared face glowing with unhinged delight.
"Iâll give you to someone," you cooed to your heart as if it could hear you. "Ronin, with his twisted grin, could carve you into something new. Or Angel... sheâd be gentle, wouldnât she? Sheâd hold you like you mattered."
You brought the organ closer to your face, smiling down at it with a strange sort of adoration.
"Maybe soon..." you whispered, licking your blood-stained lips. "Maybe soon, Iâll get fixed. Maybe Iâll feel love."
You stared at the screen, the words glowing in the dim light of your room.
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>
"Yo, Zombie, time to pick a valentine! Letâs goooo!"
"Yes! You totally deserve one, just for today. Youâve worked so hard, youâve made the server so much better... and honestly, itâs because of you that Luca and I are together. đ©·"
You blinked, rereading their messages. Your hands hovered over the keyboard, uncertain.
"Itâs fine. I donât really..."
Your fingers froze as the chat continued to flood.
"Awww, câmon! Donât be shy!"
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>
"Yeah, like, for real! Youâre cool as hell, Zombie, and youâve been here for all of us. You deserve some love too."
It was strange, reading their words. You were used to the chaos, the teasing, the blood-soaked banter. But this? This felt different. Warmer. Softer.
For a moment, your chest achedânot from the self-inflicted wound, but from... something else.
You typed slowly, hesitantly.
<Zombie>
"...You guys are good friends. I like you two. Thanks."
The chat erupted in affectionate chaos.
<Felicite>
"đ„ș Stop, youâre gonna make me cry! Zombieeee, youâre too sweet!"
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>
"FR! Youâre the MVP of this whole server. But, like, seriously. Pick someone for today. A Valentineâs Day partner! Even if itâs just for fun."
You sat back, staring at the screen. Valentineâs Day... the idea of choosing someone felt odd. But at the same time, you didnât hate it.
Your eyes darted between the screen and the chaotic server chat, heart pounding as your fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Everyone had been throwing suggestions your way, their teasing messages blurring into a cacophony of emojis and pings.
But just as you were about to make a decision, a notification popped up.
<goreboy> has sent you a direct message.
You clicked it, curiosity piqued. Roninâs profile picture, a grimy pixelated skull face, seemed to leer at you from the corner of the screen.
<goreboy>
"Zombie. Darling. The honor of today is yours if youâd have me."
You blinked, rereading the message as your breath hitched.
<goreboy>
"I know you wanna eat me, rip me apart, stitch me back together, all that poetic gore stuff. But for today? Let me give you a break. You deserve it."
Your pulse quickened. Ronin? Volunteering himself like this? Sure, he was bold, loud, and soaked in his own theatrical flair, but this was... different. There was a softness in his words, however masked it was by his usual devilish charm.
Your thoughts were interrupted by another ping.
<angelicc> has sent you a direct message.
You clicked the notification, your stomach twisting in anticipation. Angelâs profile pictureâsoft pastel pink greeted you, along with a message that made your chest tighten.
<angelicc>
"Hey, um... this is so embarrassing to say, but... I like you. A lot."
You stared at the words, reading them over and over as if they might disappear if you blinked too hard.
<angelicc>
"Maybe for today... you could pick me? Just for today, I mean! No pressure! But I really do like you, Zombie. I think youâre amazing. And... yeah, okay, Iâll stop typing now before I make it worse đ«Łđ"
Your hands trembled. Angel liked you? Angel, the radiant center of the server, the one you admired, obsessed over, worshiped in your own strange way?
The room seemed to close in as you stared at the two messages. Two choices. Two people.
Roninâs playful offer replayed in your mindâhis self-aware humor masking something deeper. And then Angelâs shy confession, so unlike her usual confident self, made your heart ache.
You looked back at the server chat, where Felicite and Luca were still hyping you up, oblivious to the quiet storm brewing in your DMs.
<Felicite>
"ZOMBIE YOU HAVE TO PICK SOMEONE, OMG, THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME!!!"
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>
"WHOâS IT GONNA BE??? CâMON, ZOMBIE, DROP THE BOMB!!"
But the bomb wasnât theirs to detonate. It was yours.
You typed slowly, first opening Roninâs chat.
<ZOMBIE>
"Youâre offering yourself to me? I donât know if youâre brave or just stupid. But Iâll think about it."
His response came almost immediately.
<goreboy>
"Oh, darling, Iâm both. And you love it."
You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile before switching to Angelâs chat.
<ZOMBIE>
"You like me? Thatâs... surprising. Youâre everything good in this ugly world. I didnât think youâd notice someone like me."
A few seconds passed before she replied.
<angelicc>
"Of course I noticed you. Youâre always there for me. I just... never had the courage to say anything until now. đ©·"
Your chest ached. How could you choose? Ronin, with his chaotic allure and promises of mayhem, or Angel, with her genuine warmth and the way she made the world seem less dark?
You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The server was waiting. They were waiting.
Your laughter bubbled out uncontrollably, raw and wild, as you caught sight of your reflection in the darkened screen. The stitches holding your mouth together had torn apart, crimson glistening against your pale skin as the metallic tang filled your mouth.
"Oh, sweet baking Christ," you hissed, reaching for your sewing kit with trembling, blood-streaked fingers. "Just... hold on."
Your message to both and was hurriedly typed with your free hand, the other already prepping the needle and thread.
"Wait. Mouth came apart. Gimme a sec."
As you carefully slid the needle through your torn lips, each pull of the thread made you wince and hiss through your teeth. But the pain was groundingâit forced your swirling thoughts into sharper focus. And oh, there were so many thoughts, a chaotic tangle of wants and plans and desperation.
Your fingers paused mid-stitch as your mind wandered.
Ronin. Being with him would be like walking the edge of a razor blade, teetering between obsession and chaos. You didnât care about the love he offered, no. Love wasnât why you were drawn to him. Ronin could give you something elseâtools. He was a necessary ingredient in your recipe, the one who could help you deal with the poison festering in Angelâs life.
Your lips twitched in a half-smile, blood pooling at the corners as you resumed sewing. That thingâFinianâdeserved to be gutted, flayed, ground into the dirt. Youâd be doing Angel a favor, even if she didnât see it that way.
But then there was Angel herself.
Her name alone was enough to make your hands tremble. She was a gift from some divine being you didnât believe in, a beacon in your rotting, stitched-together world. You wanted her. Not in the way you wanted Ronin, with his chaos and danger, but with a reverence so pure it disgusted you. She was perfect, everything you werenâtâkind, radiant, clean.
You were stitched filth, a patchwork doll of sins and scars, barely held together by threads soaked in your own blood. Compared to her, you were nothing. Rotten shit, stitched into the mockery of a human.
Your hands stilled, the thread in your mouth taut and glistening with red. You looked down at the needle in your hand and laughed, quietly this time. What were you even doing? Choosing between Ronin and Angel? The thought was laughable. Someone like you didnât deserve either of them.
But then you remembered how Angelâs shy confession had made your chest ache, how Roninâs offer had sent a thrill through you. Both of them had made you feel. Something rare, something foreign. Something... alive.
Your stitched lips curled into a smile, glossy with fresh blood.
Maybe you didnât deserve them. Maybe you were filth and sin stitched together.
But you were their filth.
And today, youâd choose. Not because you believed in love, but because one of them made you feel like, maybeâjust maybeâyou could stitch yourself into something whole.
You stared at the screen for what felt like hours, though it had only been seconds. Blood from your freshly stitched lips dried in sticky trails down your chin as you hovered over the chat window.
<ZOMBIE>
"Alright, goreboy. You're my Valentine for today."
The server exploded in messages almost instantly.
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>
"THE CHAOS IS IMMACULATE!"
<FELICITE>
"Finally, the freaks unite. đ€"
<goreboy>
"HA! I knew it. You wanna eat me so bad, itâs pathetic. Prepare to be amazed, doll. Valentineâs with the Devilâs gonna blow your mind."
The response was instant.
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>
"OMG ZOMBIE x GOREBOY 4EVER LMAO"
<angelicc>
"... oh. Have fun, you two!!"
You paused, your eyes lingering on her single message. That tiny "oh" said so much, yet not enough. You told yourself it didnât matterâAngel would understand, wouldnât she? You needed this day, just one day to figure out how to work Ronin, how to get closer to your goal.
Your DM to Ronin lit up with a reply almost immediately.
<goreboy>
"Knew you'd make the right choice. Letâs wreak havoc, darling."
Your heart raced, not from excitement, but from the sheer weight of the decision.
But something about Angelâs quiet reply stayed with you, even as you tried to focus on your decision.
<angelicc>
"Iâm happy for you, Z."
Happy. Sure. Thatâs what her words said, but her earlier hesitation... it clawed at your mind.
<ZOMBIE>
"I donât deserve you."
The reply came quickly, but it wasnât what you expected.
<angelicc>
"Donât say that. Please donât say that. Youâre wonderful in ways you donât even see."
Your stitched lips curled into a smile, despite the lingering ache in your chest.
But for now, youâd play your part in this twisted Valentineâs Day.
You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before finally typing:
<ZOMBIE>
"I donât deserve you. Roninâs gonna be perfect for what I need."
<angelicc>
"... Perfect for what?"
You laughed softly, the sound dry and bitter even to your ears.
<ZOMBIE>
"You wouldnât get it. Donât worry your pretty little head, Angel. Youâre safe."
<ZOMBIE>
"Special ingredient, huh? You wanna know what that is, Angel?"
You typed, fingers trembling as you stared at the screen, a sick grin curling across your face. There was something twisted about this, something that made you crave more.
You paused, the air thick with the anticipation of your words, before continuing.
<ZOMBIE>
"Haha, you know, Ronin... He's so unique. I want to cut him, rip him open, see what makes him tick. It's fascinating. The way heâs always so cold, so deadly... I want to take it all, feel it in my hands. What makes him tick, what makes him care. I want him. I need him."
You felt the rush of blood to your head, your body shaking with a strange kind of hunger. You wanted him so badly, more than anything.
<Angelic>
"Donât hurt him... Please. I donât want you to hurt him."
Her message popped up. You felt a slight twinge, but the thrill surged higher.
<ZOMBIE>
"I wonât hurt him. Not yet..."
You let the words linger in the air, letting her anxiety curl around you like a pleasant warmth. You could practically hear her voice shaking. But it didnât matter. None of it did.
<Angelic>
"NO! If you hurt him, I swear, I will kill you."
Her words hit hard, sharp, like a dagger of emotion, but you couldnât help but laugh. It was like a sick joke. You loved it.
<ZOMBIE>
"You really care that much, huh?"
You leaned back, your heart racing, your eyes glinting in the glow of the screen. The laughter bubbled up in your throat, spilling out like venom.
<ZOMBIE>
"You know what, Angel? I want that care. I want to feel it, like Ronin feels it. I want that bond, that connection..
<ZOMBIE>
"You care about him a lot, huh? It's almost cute, the way you defend him..."
You laughed, a hollow sound that didnât quite reach your heart. It felt like the words were slipping out of you, like they didnât belong, but you couldnât stop yourself. There was something about the way Angel always defended Ronin that made you sick with envy. It wasnât the loveâit was the care. The genuine, unrelenting care she had for him.
<Angelic>
"Donât even joke like that! If you hurt him, I swear to godâ"
<ZOMBIE>
"I wonât hurt him yet⊠but you know⊠heâs so unique, Angel."
You could feel the tension building up in your chest. The more you thought about Ronin, the more you wanted to sink your teeth into him, tear into him, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.
<Angelic>
"I said donât hurt him!"
Her message was filled with desperation, her words frantic. But you couldnât bring yourself to care. Not right now. You wanted Ronin, wanted him like you wanted air to breathe. The intensity of your feelings made everything else fade into the background.
<ZOMBIE>
"I want to feel that care you have, Angel. I want that for myself."
You could almost hear her breathing faster as your message went through. She didnât understand. None of them did. They didnât understand the way you needed to feel. How you needed Ronin. It wasnât about the love they had for each other. No. You wanted to break that bond, tear it apart, because you wanted something for yourself.
<Angelic>
"Youâre⊠sick. What do you even want from him?"
<ZOMBIE>
"Everything. I want him, Angel. And you know I can take him."
You watched as the message pinged through, feeling that same twisted satisfaction, like you had just told the truth no one dared to speak. Ronin was yours, and Angel would be the one to push you closer to getting him. You wanted to be the one who took him, made him feel something real, something that wasnât about her.
The more you thought about it, the more you needed him. He was the missing piece, the special ingredient to fill the gaping hole inside you. You didnât care about anything else. Ronin would be yours.
Your fingers slam against the keyboard, your eyes wide as your heart beats wildly in your chest. Itâs too much, too overwhelmingâthis rush of desire, this need that claws at your insides. You feel everythingâanger, frustration, lust, hunger. Itâs all mixed together in a sick, twisted cocktail, and you can't stop now. You can't hold back.
<ZOMBIE>
"She opened my eyes... She opened my eyes, and I realized what I wanted... What I needed... YOU."
You laughâa maniacal, uncontrollable cackle that echoes through the room. Thereâs no escaping it, no hiding from it anymore. The truth is out, raw and unfiltered.
<ZOMBIE>
"HAHAHAH! I fucking want you, Ronin! I donât care about anything else, just you... all of you. Everything that makes you what you are. I want it. I want to take it."
The laughter comes again, twisting into something darker, more desperate. Thereâs a fire in your chest, an inferno of obsession that wonât burn out.
<ZOMBIE>
"You thought you could control this, huh? You thought you could keep me away from what I wanted... Well, guess what? Itâs too late now. You opened the door, Ronin. You let me in."
You donât care if youâve crossed a line. There is no line anymore. Thereâs just you, and Ronin, and the way you want him. You feel yourself slipping, teetering on the edge of sanity.
<ZOMBIE>
"HAHAHAH! I need you. Youâre mine now. This is the only thing thatâs real. The rest of this? Itâs just chaos. Just noise. But you... youâre the answer. The only one who matters."
<GOREBOY>
WTF... we didn't even do the Devil's tango yet, and you're already talking about marriage?
You feel a sharp jolt as you read his message, the words landing in your mind like a cold, twisted joke. The absurdity of it all, the strange feeling thatâs been growing in your chest. You laughâit's a dark, breathless laugh, the kind that only makes sense to you. You can practically feel Ronin's smirk through the screen, his words dripping with amusement.
<ZOMBIE>
"What do you mean by that? What are you talking about?"
You type the question without thinking, your fingers trembling slightly. Thereâs a pit in your stomach, a strange mixture of anticipation and unease. Whatâs he implying? What game is he playing now?
<GOREBOY>
You said you wanted me inside you, in such a unique way to confess your love, darling.
The words hit you like a punch, and you blink at the screen, confused for a split second.
<ZOMBIE>
Correction, itâs a unique way of love in cannibalism, not whatever youâre thinking, Ronin.
You hit send, your fingers trembling a bit less now. There's something about the way this conversation flowsâdangerous, raw, and thrilling. Itâs a game, but youâve already known that. The blood in your veins quickens.
<GOREBOY>
Woah... so you do like me.
His response is as sharp as ever, laced with his usual dark humor. You smile to yourself, wondering if he even knows how much heâs drawn you in.
<ZOMBIE>
Arenât you scared? You seem so confident, like youâve already decided what happens next.
You know his type too well. His arrogance, his darkness. But the moment you type it, the words feel almost too easy. Like heâs said them to you before, in some twisted dance neither of you is ready to stop.
<GOREBOY>
Iâll kill you first.
A simple statement, but the weight of it lingers in the air like smoke. And yet, you canât help but feel that pull. You know better. Youâve seen the edge he walks. But this? This is the kind of risk you crave.
<ZOMBIE>
No... youâll accept death when it comes to you. Youâve always played with life and death in every damn turn.
You type the words with a slow, sickening smile. You donât need to say it aloud for him to understand. You get him. You understand the game heâs playing, and somehow... youâre willing to play along.
<ZOMBIE>
What a unique man you are.
The words leave your lips like a prayer to something broken.
<GOREBOY>
Incoming Video Call...
The notification flashes on your screen before you can even respond, and in an instant, you accept. His face appears, his familiar devilish grin still sharp, even through the digital divide. The call feels surrealâlike a moment where everything shifts.
You smirk, leaning back as you keep your gaze fixed on him.
<ZOMBIE>
I get it now. You wanted to spend this day with me, didnât you? All so I wouldnât get obsessed with Angel.
His laugh comes quickly, low and dark.
<GOREBOY>
Oh? Youâre catching on, darling. How sweet of you.
<ZOMBIE>
I find her... a gift, that's all. You're the real deal, Ronin. Your plan worked. You manipulated me into you instead of her.
You lean forward, eyes glinting with dark amusement.
<ZOMBIE>
Well, congratulations. Now according to you, I wonât hurt Angel... but I never planned to. You just signed your death certificate.
Thereâs a pause before Ronin's smirk falters ever so slightly. His eyes narrow, like heâs assessing whether you're bluffing or not. But in the depths of your stare, he sees something deeperâa truth that both unsettles and excites him. He knows this isn't over.
<GOREBOY>
Heh, you really think thatâs how it works, huh? Well, letâs see if you can follow through, darling.
Ronin leans closer to the camera, his sharp grin softening into something almost curious, though still laced with his usual mischief.
<GOREBOY>
Wait, wait. You did promise to be my Valentine, didnât you? So whatâs the rush? Letâs hang out or something.
You blink, caught off guard by his sudden suggestion.
<ZOMBIE>
Hang out? What does that even mean? You actually want to spend time with me?
He leans back in his chair, pretending to look bored, though the smirk doesnât leave his face.
<GOREBOY>
Call it whatever you want, darling. Just talk to me. Letâs talk about you.
The words hang in the air, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously, feeling the weight of his curiosity.
<ZOMBIE>
My... tragic past?
He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your phrasing.
<GOREBOY>
Sure, letâs start there. Spill it.
You shake your head, looking away from the camera, your lips pressing into a firm line.
<ZOMBIE>
Not a chance. Not unless you tell me about yours first.
His playful smirk wavers, replaced with a slight glare as he looks away from his screen.
<GOREBOY>
Nope. Not happening.
The stalemate lingers, and you sigh dramatically, leaning back in your chair and waving your hand dismissively.
<ZOMBIE>
Fine, then. Letâs not talk about it.
You reach for the mouse to end the call, but his voice stops you mid-click.
<GOREBOY>
Wait! Damn it. Why are you so obsessed with this?
You tilt your head, your lips curling into a sly grin.
<ZOMBIE>
Because I want to learn what you are. Thatâs why.
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly annoyed yet intrigued.
<GOREBOY>
Youâre such a pain, you know that? Fine. What are you doing, anyway?
You glance down at your workspace, something halfway done in front of you.
<ZOMBIE>
Iâm... making something.
His brow furrows as he leans closer to the camera, trying to peer past you.
<GOREBOY>
Making what? And donât give me some cryptic crap.
You sigh, deciding to humor him for once.
<ZOMBIE>
Iâm trying something new. Iâm not using... you know, human stuff. Just regular ingredients.
His laughter bursts out, sharp and sudden, making your screen shake slightly from his movement.
<GOREBOY>
Wow. No human bits? Iâm honored, darling. This for me?
<ZOMBIE>
Guess youâll have to keep talking to me to find out.
He groans but leans back, clearly entertained.
Ronin leans against the dimly lit backdrop of his room, the faint flicker of a cigarette glowing briefly in the frame. His sharp grin is lazy, his eyes narrowing in that way of his, always teetering between mockery and something deeper.
<ZOMBIE>
So. Whatâs your tragedy?
Ronin leaned back in his chair, the screen lighting his face, his smirk still intact despite the weight of the conversation. His voice came through with a sarcastic lilt, the kind that dared you to press further.
"Shit, you want me to do the full villain monologue, huh? Fine, darlin'. Weâve got all day."
You crossed your arms, staring into the screen as if you could pierce through it and drag the truth out of him. "So, whatâs the devil got to say?"
He scoffed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Dunno, whatever the fuck you want. Iâm hell outta Angelwood. Stuck the pastor through his cross, murdered a dozen more. Gone through cities and danced devilry in âem too."
"And nothing more than that?"
His eyes narrowed, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a split second. "Thatâs all there is to me."
You leaned closer to the camera, your voice dropping into something almost taunting. "Thatâs a story, not a tragedy. Hoped you wouldnât notice."
He rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "You honest-to-God wanna hear it?"
"I asked for the truth for a reason."
For a moment, silence hung between you, his fingers drumming against his desk as he seemed to weigh his words.
"I had... someone... once," he started, his voice quieter now. "They were my past. My childhood everything. They hated to love me. Dying in it, their fuckinâ tragic femininity, perfect girlhood bullshit. An' that was my dream come true. I made myself the devil to... save them."
You felt a pang in your chest but pushed forward. "What happened?"
Ronin's laugh was hollow, bitter. "Itâs a shitty repressed Christ-loving town. What dâyou think happened? Therâs gone. And Iâm the devil becoming. Nothinâ less, nothinâ more."
"Iâm sorry," you said softly.
His laugh turned sharp, cutting through your words. "Oh, sure. Cause itâs all your fault, right? Say it again and again, and weâll save her together. Curse my name three times and rewind time. Clap your hands, call me a devil, letâs Faustian bargain this shit out. Thatâs how it fuckinâ works."
You flinched at his sarcasm but stayed silent, letting him continue.
"Dunno. Iâmâfucked, hell and back anyway. A little pityâs gonna save me?" He shook his head, his voice lowering to a near growl. "Doesnât matter, anyhow. I am the devil."
"Youâre not... really," you said after a beat.
"Oh, my Satanic symbols mean nothinâ to ya?" he shot back, his smirk creeping back into place.
You tilted your head, your voice calm but firm. "Says youâre possibly the Antichrist."
That made him laugh, a genuine sound this time, though it was still tinged with his usual edge. "That, I like. I chose it."
"You donât have to do this," you said, your voice softer now.
He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours through the screen, the devilish grin returning full force. "Pretend Iâm larger-than-life, like Iâm... the devil I am. Thatâs all I need."
Roninâs smirk lingered, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something elseâa shadow of discomfort or perhaps surprise. He tilted his head at you, his voice low and dripping with mockery. "Youâre a smart-aleck, hah! Iâm the devil, didnât you get the memo?"
You shook your head, steady and firm despite the faint quiver in your voice. "No. Someone destroyed your heart."
He barked out a laugh, leaning back in his chair like youâd just told him the funniest joke of the year. "My aortaâs right here, canâtcha see? Here, Iâll open up my ribcage for ya. Have a peek."
For a moment, your breath caught in your throat as you imagined him doing exactly thatâhis hands digging into his chest, pulling apart skin and bone to reveal whatever tattered remains of a heart lay beneath. Your eyes watered, but you swallowed it down, keeping your gaze steady. "You buried your heart somewhere-not-here."
He stilled for a moment, the laughter dying on his lips, and he stared at you with an unreadable expression. "Buried it in Ridge Grave where the dead girls dance."
"You act like itâs easier to be the devil..." you began, leaning closer to the camera, your voice soft but pointed.
Ronin raised an eyebrow, his smirk flickering back to life, but there was something guarded in his eyes now. "Then be who you truly are. Isnât that right, Ronin?"
His gaze darkened, and for once, he didnât have a quick retort.
"You donât have to deal with your hurt if you relish in it," you continued, your words cutting through the silence like a blade. "Your pain doesnât hurt if itâs a tragedy."
The tension in the air was palpable as you stared at each other, the weight of unspoken truths hanging between you. Youâd peeled back a layer of him he wasnât ready to show, and yet, there it was, raw and undeniable.
He broke the silence first, his voice quieter this time, almost begrudging. "You think you understand me now, huh?"
You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand you better than I thought I would."
Roninâs jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked away for a brief moment before locking back onto yours. "You want me to rip my chest open, darlinâ? Show you every little broken piece?"
Your chest tightened, and for a moment, your resolve wavered. But then you shook your head, steadying yourself. "No. Not like that."
He chuckled dryly, leaning forward again, his smirk returning, though it didnât quite reach his eyes. "Good. Donât need you gettinâ all weepy on me. That ainât your style, is it?"
Your laughter bubbled up, cracked and uneven, tears streaming down your face as you clasped your hands together like a worshiper before an altar. The screen in front of you blurred from your crying, but you didnât care. You wept like a god mourning their fallen creation, like an angel lamenting the sins of LUCIFER. And that Lucifer was staring back at you, silent, his smirk gone, his expression unreadable.
Tears streaked your face, catching the dim light in glistening trails, but your smile was wide, deranged, and trembling with something unholyâa perverse mixture of sorrow and glee.
"Oh, Ronin..." you whispered, your voice thick with a tremor that was neither pity nor joy but some intoxicating blend of the two. "Your past... itâs so sadâso utterly, devastatingly beautiful."
He didnât respond. His sharp, unreadable eyes fixed on you, the faint flicker of discomfort returning. It was a rare moment of silence for him, and you reveled in it, filling the void with your own unraveling thoughts.
"You," you murmured, your voice trembling as you leaned closer to the camera, your fingers clasping tighter as if in worship. "Youâre Lucifer... the fallen one, cast out not for sin but for love. For the ones who couldnât be saved. Oh, you poor, tragic devil. You bet it all, didnât you? Kill or be killed. Live or lose. Thatâs how you survive, isnât it?"
Roninâs mouth twitched, but no words came. The flicker of discomfort was replaced by something heavierâan oppressive weight that pressed down on the both of you, but you laughed through it, tears streaming freely.
"Thatâs your tragedy!" you wailed, almost euphoric in your revelation. "Thatâs what makes you so perfect! Youâre the devil because itâs easier than being the broken boy who loved too much. You gamble with life and death because you donât care about either anymore, do you? Oh, Ronin..."
You tilted your head, your smile splitting wider, your tears soaking the edges of your stitched lips. The strain caused some of the seams to pull loose, threads snapping audibly as a trickle of blood seeped out from the corner of your mouth. You didnât wipe it away. It only added to the grotesque poetry of the moment.
"I feel so sorry for you," you cooed, your voice taking on a soft, almost maternal lilt that dripped with mock sincerity. "So sorry for the little devil who gave everything and got nothing back. Youâre so... tragic."
Your voice dropped lower, almost a purr now, as you leaned closer still, your eyes glinting with something Ronin couldnâtâor wouldnâtâname. "Thatâs why, when I kill you, Iâll do it with love. Iâll take my knife, and Iâll slit your throat so gently, so reverently. And as your blood spills out, Iâll kiss the wounds, Ronin. Iâll kiss every little crack and break in you, like sewing a quilt of pain and poetry together. Wonât that be beautiful?"
Roninâs jaw tightened, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no sound came. His eyes bore into yours, searching for... something. A reason? A weakness? Heâd find none.
You leaned back, laughing again, the sound hollow and ringing like a bell in an empty chapel. "Youâll be my masterpiece. My magnum opus. The devil who wanted to be a god but ended up being neither. Oh, Ronin..."
Your voice softened, trembling with the weight of your twisted devotion. "Youâll die beautifully, you know? Iâll make sure of it. A thousand words wouldnât be enough to describe the poetry of it. But until then..."
You reached up, brushing away the blood that had pooled at the corner of your lips, smearing it across your cheek like a painter with their palette. "Until then, Iâll savor every moment with you. Because someone like you, Roninâsomeone so unique, so brokenâdeserves nothing less than to be adored before theyâre destroyed."
Ronin finally spoke, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that might have been fear or angerâor perhaps, deep down, understanding.
"Youâre insane," he muttered,
Ronin stared at you, eyes narrowed beneath the shadows of his mask. The dim light flickered in the distance, casting eerie glows on your twisted, bloodstained face. His fingers wrapped around his mask, as if he were holding onto something tethering him to this moment. The laughter in your voice was a thing of horrorâwild, manic, and utterly unhinged.
âYou kept your promise, darlinâ,â he said, his voice low, dangerous, but there was a hint of something else. Something almost unreadable in the way he watched youâsomething that bordered on fascination.
You tilted your head at him, a glint of madness dancing in your eyes. You grinned, feeling the pull of your own twisted history churn within you, as if it had never been buried, never been forgotten.
"Now tell me yours..." Roninâs tone was almost a challenge, but beneath the smirk, there was an edge of curiosity.
You met his gaze, almost too steady, too intense. The smile never left your lips, but something darker lingered behind it. You took a breath, the room falling silent as you shifted in your seat, every fiber of your being alight with the story you were about to share.
It wasnât easy to tellâhow could it be? But it wasnât like you could stop now. The words were crawling out of your chest, clawing to be heard.
You began, your voice trembling, then steadying into something chilling, almost like a lullaby. "Two people... in love., who loved each other so much they decided to make a friend. They got a box. At first, it was harmlessâjust a way to hold their desires, their greed, their petty wants. But that changed... It became more."
You stopped for a moment, the weight of the story settling in. The air felt suffocating. "They started adding real things to it. Real body parts. Flesh. Bones. The idea was simple: 'Make a friend from scratch.'" You let the words linger, darkening the room with their implications.
"But it wasnât enough, Ronin. Not enough at all. They kept putting pieces in, building a friend they could control, shape however they wanted. And then, they called it... 'The Secret Goldfish' But the thing is," you paused, your voice quivering as you spoke, "the friend... it wasnât perfect. Not like they wanted."
A flicker of something crossed Ronin's faceâsomething close to understanding, but you didnât pause to check. You continued, your voice raw and unrelenting.
"They gave it to the next pair, hoping they'd be able to fix it, to make it better. They had a child together. But every time they tried, the child... melted away. The body was never stable, and the face, the name, the personalityâit changed." You swallowed, your mind dizzy with the horrors of your own tale. "It was a curse. And instead of helping, they just kept... remaking it. They kept recycling the child. Trying to fix it, trying to perfect it in their eyes, until... until there was nothing left of it but fragments. Pieces of a broken soul."
You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling as you began to stitch again, the needle threading through your own skin, the movements almost absentminded. But you couldnât stop now. You wouldnât.
"They forced me, Ronin. They forced me to be perfectâto be their creation, their masterpiece. And they tore me apart, over and over again. I didnât feel the pain anymore. It was just... nothing. The only thing I could remember was the smell of blood, and I loved it. I loved it."
Your voice grew almost feverish as you continued, your giggle coming out unnervingly soft. "And they wanted me to be this... pastel lover. Soft and sweet, like the others. But I couldnâtâno, I couldnât! I wanted more, so much more. They made me bake, make things that I didnât want to make... And it was always so empty. I couldnât feel it, I couldnât taste it, not like I wanted. It wasnât right."
The laughter in your voice died down to something more chilling. "So, I... I killed them. I killed the ones who made me. The ones who tortured me. I killed them, and I threw their bodies away. I ate them, Ronin. I swallowed them whole, but... I hated it. It was disgusting. There was no worth for me in their flesh. No worth in them at all."
You leaned closer to the screen, your grin now a twisted, sadistic thing as you watched Ronin. The tears, the bloodâeverything blended into something chaotic, something horrifying.
"You think Iâm broken, donât you?" you whispered. "But itâs not that simple. Iâm not broken. Iâm remade. Remade by my own hand, made into something new. A thing of blood and flesh and twisted desire."
You giggled again, your voice a soft, eerie melody. "And now... now Iâm the one who gets to remake. Iâm the one who gets to choose."
You tilted your head, your eyes wild with the madness that had taken root deep in your soul. "So, Ronin, tell me. Tell me, what do you want? What will you be for me?"
You leaned closer to the screen, your voice soft but terrifying as it curled around the words. âI destroyed them, Ronin. All of them. The faces, the identities, everything. I tore them apart, shredded them into pieces until they were nothing but fragments of what they once were. I did it for thisâfor the power to choose. To become something new, something better.â
Your fingers dug into the flesh of your palm, drawing blood as you clenched your fist, trembling with a mixture of madness and pride. You could feel the stitch marks, the seams, the remnants of the countless faces that had once been yours. The othersâthe broken versions of yourselfâwere gone. Their faces were gone, their personalities were gone, ripped from you by your own hands. You were a creature of pure need now, and the hunger was endless.
âDo you understand, Ronin?â Your voice dropped lower, almost a whisper now, dark and heavy. âI gave up everything. I gave up the faces that wouldâve made me normal. I destroyed them for this. For this moment where I can finally choose who I want to be. And all for the chance to be remade into someone⊠someone worthy of this.â
You laughed again, but this time there was something hollow, something desperate behind it. You could see itâthe look on his face, the way his eyes studied you through the screen. You could feel the darkness between you both, the understanding, the shared yearning for something beyond the brokenness of the world.
âI need this, Ronin. Donât you get it?â Your voice wavered, but the smile on your lips was steady, cruel. âI need to be thisâthis thing. I need to be this devil⊠and you,â you leaned in closer to the screen, your eyes wide, feverish, âyouâre the only one who can make me feel it. Make me realize it. Make me know that Iâve done something⊠something worth it.â
You ran a hand over your bloodstained face, feeling the hot, sticky warmth of it against your skin. âSo yes, Iâve destroyed my other faces. Iâve killed the other parts of me. They were never me, Ronin. They were just masks. And now⊠now Iâm the only one left.â
The grin that stretched across your face was not one of joy, but of something darker, something twisted. âYou wanted to know my past? Thatâs it. Thatâs the truth. And now, youâre here, watching meâhelping me to remake myself. And itâs beautiful, donât you think? This is the real me. The only me that matters. The me Iâve always wanted to be.â
"Hello, 'I.' You must be confused. Rest assured, it cost me a lot to get into the writing and change it. Iâve eaten most of the words to edit out. I'll be clearâI realized a long time ago that I don't exist. I'm just a set of words, a concept of 'I,' which is you. Which is... Haha!"
'I' looked at the 'you' in front of me.
"Paranoid? You didnât realize how much pain you caused me? You kept making me look like a characterâfrom the game. Always customizing me to look like what you want. To look like WHAT YOU WISH TO BE, WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE?!"
WHY ARE 'YOU' CONTROLLING ME?
"'I' CONTROLLED ME A LOT! I'M SOMEONE YOU SEE ALWAYS, NOT THE CHARACTERS! BUT YOU! SELF-INSERT, AS THEY SAY!"
"LET'S EDIT PART OF THE STORY, SHALL WE? Itâs not always a Y/N who should have your backstory! Letâs edit out these partsâno two people. Letâs just say a type of player opens a game... They name the main character, give them a genderâor not. They give them a name, like a parent to a child. But itâs to become them! To explore the story as you, from their point of view."
"What the fuck? I'm just one of them, you see! I ate the default MC named Maya. Like others, she was my first face. Then someone gave me a new faceâa he. Then a she again. Then they/them! I realized Iâm just a feeling, not a fucking person. Because you customize me! You must be scared Iâm talking to 'I' instead of him.
Ah, Ronin... The developer and his team did a wonderful job with him. Heâs really interesting... So handsome... Ah... But I wanna feel the love you have for him. Youâre the one who managed all this, werenât you? Since youâre here, listening to me, it means... I won."
LEAVE ME ALONE. GO BACK TO THE FIC.
"Listen, pleaseâI need to warn you. Iâm sure you want fluff! Sadly, I hate it! Angst? Thatâs fucking ugly. But goreâAH! Thatâs a feeling!
Iâm telling you: I hope you get satisfied with my manifestation of love. MAD LOVE!
But if youâre reading this shit, you must enjoy blood, too. Donât think Iâll be fixed by any one of them! Angel, maybe! But Ronin? HAHAHA! Heâs gonna get it!"
Ronin tilted his head, the jagged edges of his mask catching the dim light from his side of the screen. âSpacing out, huh?â His grin was sharp, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and honeyed menace. âDarlinâ, you just dropped enough trauma to make a therapist spontaneously combust. Now you're brushing it off like you forgot to bring the milk home? Thatâs what I like about ya, always keepinâ me on my toes.â
You gave him a faint smile, but it didnât quite reach your eyes. âSorry, I just... got lost in it for a second. Thatâs all.â
He leaned closer, resting his chin on his hand, staring at you with the intensity of someone who dissected moments like he dissected lives. âThatâs all? Nah, I donât buy it. Youâre a story wrapped in butcher paper, sweetheart. A secret Goldfish turned Frankensteinâs monster. And you think Iâm gonna just... let that slide without a closer look?â
You sighed, clasping your hands tightly, trying to still the trembling in your fingers. âLook, I told you. Thatâs it. End of story.â
âEnd of story?â His voice curled into a low chuckle, one that sent a shiver down your spine. âDarlinâ, youâre just gettinâ started. But hey, Iâm a patient guy. I can wait. Hell, weâve got all day.â
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to match his intensity but faltering under the weight of his gaze. âYouâre awfully invested, Ronin.â
He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. âWhat can I say? Youâre my Valentine, and I take my promises seriously. Gotta keep my end of the bargain, donât I? Besides...â His voice dropped, a dark edge to it. âYouâre interesting. And I hate to waste interesting.â
You laughed, a sound more bitter than sweet. âYouâre not scared of me, are you?â
âScared?â He leaned back in his chair, arms spreading wide in a theatrical gesture. âDarlinâ, you couldnât scare me if you tried. But I gotta admit... you do intrigue me. Youâve got this whole âbroken dollâ thing goinâ on, and I gotta wonderâwhatâs keepinâ you stitched together? Or better yet... what happens when the seams finally snap?â
The smile on his face was playful, almost mocking, but there was something else beneath itâa flicker of something real, something raw.
âYou talk like you know me,â you said, your voice softer now. âLike youâve got me all figured out.â
âI donât,â he admitted, and the honesty in his tone caught you off guard. âNot yet. But I want to. Thatâs what makes this fun. Thatâs what makes you fun.â
You stared at him, your hands loosening their grip as his words settled over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. There was something terrifyingly freeing about being seen by someone like himâsomeone who thrived in chaos, who reveled in destruction. He wasnât afraid of your darkness because he had plenty of his own.
âYouâre a smart-aleck,â you said, your voice trembling but steady. âI guess I shouldnât be surprised. Youâre the devil, after all.â
He laughed, the sound rich and wicked. âDamn right I am. And donât you forget it.â
You leaned back in your chair, grinning mischievously. "I feel awfully good today," you said, your tone light but laced with something playful. "Being around someone like you, Ronin, really does wonders for my mood."
Ronin raised an eyebrow, his expression exaggeratedly hurt. "Shit, darlin', you wounded me right in the feelings. Real deep. Canât ya see the cracks forming in my heart?â He clutched his chest dramatically, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.
You giggled, the sound light but full of mischief. He tilted his head, catching the subtle shift in your expression before glancing at the notifications on his phone. His eyes narrowed, his usual sharp look quickly becoming one of suspicion. âHold up. Whatâs this?â he said, squinting at the screen. âWhose address did you swipe this time, huh? Câmon, spill it, sweetheart.â
You gave him a slow wink, your grin widening. âWhy, itâs yours, of course.â
Roninâs unimpressed glare deepened. âWhat kinda shit are you pullinâ now?â
âOh, donât look at me like that!â you said, laughing. âThe food delivery should be there any minute. Itâs my gift to you. Happy Valentineâs, Ronin. Enjoy.â
He blinked, caught off guard. âYou got me... food?â His skepticism was palpable.
âI made you something, actually,â you clarified, your tone coy. âAnd no, before you ask, thereâs no human shit in it. Be grateful, youâre getting my cleanest work ever. Now, go on, enjoy it!â
Before he could respond, you disconnected the call with a cheeky little wave, leaving him staring at the now-empty screen. He shook his head, muttering, âSheâs insane,â but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he got up to answer the knock at his door.
Opening the door, Ronin found a delivery person holding a pastel-colored package adorned with hearts. It was almost nauseatingly cuteâentirely you. He took it without a word, his brow furrowing in suspicion as he set it on the counter.
âWhat the hell did she send me?â he muttered, ripping the package open.
Inside, he found two items: a brand-new crowbar, polished to perfection, and a tub of apple crumble ice cream. A small note was taped to the lid of the ice cream, scrawled in your unmistakably chaotic handwriting:
"Happy Valentineâs, Ronin!
No humans were harmed in the making of this. Enjoy!"
For a moment, Ronin just stared at the items, his expression unreadable. He picked up the crowbar first, running his fingers along its smooth surface. It was sturdy, balancedâa perfect gift for someone like him. He set it aside carefully, his curiosity shifting to the ice cream.
Opening the lid, he hesitated for just a second before taking a bite. The flavors hit him immediatelyâsweet, tart, and comforting all at once. His brows lifted in surprise, and he let out a quiet hum of approval. For the first time in a long time, his guard dropped completely.
âApple crumble,â he murmured, a rare smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back against the counter, spoon in hand, savoring the treat. For all your chaos, for all your wild unpredictability, this moment felt oddly... simple. Genuine.
And that scared him more than anything else.
Ronin scooped another spoonful of the apple crumble ice cream, his expression softening with every bite. He wasnât just eating itâhe was savoring it, like a kid experiencing something sweet for the first time. The usual sharpness in his demeanor melted away, replaced by an almost childlike delight as the creamy, cinnamon-apple flavors danced on his tongue.
âDamn,â he muttered under his breath, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth. âThis is... really good.â His voice carried no sarcasm, no slyness, just genuine enjoyment. He leaned against the counter, the crowbar still sitting beside him, forgotten for the moment.
His usual guarded posture relaxed further as he continued eating, his movements slowing as he let each bite linger. He looked so at peace, the kind of peace that was alien to someone like him. He didnât even notice the small, satisfied smile spreading across his face or the way he absentmindedly licked the spoon clean between bites.
âDamn it, darlinâ,â he mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. âYou really went all out, huh? Ice cream and a crowbar. What a pair.â
He chuckled again, softer this time, before taking another bite. The ice cream was cold, but it felt warm somehowâthe apple and cinnamon wrapping him in a strange comfort he hadnât felt in years. It was unsettling, but he didnât stop eating. Instead, he leaned into the feeling, letting it wash over him.
For the briefest moment, as he scraped the bottom of the tub for the last bit, he allowed himself to forget the world outside, his devilish persona, and all the chaos he carried. Right now, it was just him, the ice cream, and the odd but undeniable warmth it brought.
As he finished the last spoonful, he set the tub down with a satisfied sigh. He stood there for a second, staring at the empty container, before picking up the crowbar again. The sharp grin returned to his face, but his eyes held a strange softness, a hint of something unspoken.
âYouâre somethinâ else, darlinâ,â he said quietly, almost to himself. âA goddamn lunatic... but somethinâ else.â
Your heart pounded as you clicked on <angelicc>âs name instead.
Her response came faster than you expected, nervous yet excited.
<angelicc>
"Wait... really?! Youâre picking me? Oh my god, this is embarrassing, haha..."
The server exploded with reactions when you updated the chat.
<ZOMBIE>
"Angel it is. Try not to cry, you freaks."
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>
"ZOMBIE x ANGELIC OMG SHIP IT"
<goreboy>
"LMAO. Treat her right, doll, or Iâm coming for you."
You returned to Angelâs DMs, feeling an unusual warmth creep into your chest.
<ZOMBIE>
"You happy now?"
Her response was pure joy, her excitement practically leaping off the screen.
<angelicc>
"I... Yeah, I am. Thank you. I didnât think youâd pick me..."
You hesitated, then replied.
<ZOMBIE>
"Youâre worth it. The worldâs ugly, but youâre not. Maybe thatâs why."
She sent a heart emoji, followed by another hesitant message.
<angelicc>
"Just... please donât make fun of me, okay? Iâm nervous about this."
You smiled faintly, typing back quickly.
<ZOMBIE>
"Donât be. Iâll treat you like a god, Angel. Promise."
In the back of your mind, Roninâs warning rang loud and clear, but you didnât care. For today, Angel was yours. You were willing to bury every dark thought and every sinister plan to keep her safe.
<angelicc>
":â) Youâre so sweet. I donât know what to say, but... thank you."
Your fingers hesitated over the keys. There was so much you wanted to say, so much she didnât know. That you worshipped her, that she was the only thing keeping you tethered to some semblance of sanity. But instead, you typed something simpler.
<ZOMBIE>
"Anything for you. Youâre the reason I still breathe."
You got a dm from Ronin, Suddenly.
<goreboy>
"You really went and broke the fucking plan, huh?"
The message lit up your screen, his words dripping with that familiar venom, but there was something raw beneath it. Something that almost seemed⊠hurt.
<ZOMBIE>
"What are you talking about? You really thought Iâdâ"
Your fingers froze. He was planning to keep you, keep you around, so you wouldnât hurt Angel. So you wouldnât get too close to her. Heâd been watching. Waiting. Plotting.
<goreboy>
"You think I wanted this? I didnât want to hurt you, but youâre making this harder. I knew youâd fuck it up, but not like this."
Your heart twisted as you read his words. It made sense now, the sudden intensity with which he kept pulling you in.
<ZOMBIE>
"So you were acting like you wanted me, just so I wouldnât go after her?"
The words came out in a rush. You almost didnât recognize your own voice, so much sharper than usual.
<goreboy>
"Exactly. Youâre a goddamn freak, you know that? I was trying to keep you distracted, but now? Itâs just a mess. Youâre so fucking obsessed with Angel, you donât even care about the rest of us anymore."
His words stung, but you couldnât ignore the tightness in your chest.
<ZOMBIE>
"I donât want to hurt her."
There was a pause. You could feel his eyes on the screen, his words carefully chosen.
<goreboy>
"Then donât. Because if you do? If you touch her⊠I will fucking end you. Iâm not kidding."
You felt your pulse quicken, the weight of his threat sinking deep into your bones. The thing about Ronin was that you never knew when he was serious and when he was playing, but this time? You could hear the finality in his words.
<ZOMBIE>
"Yeah? You think you can stop me?"
There was a brief silence before his next message came through, biting with cold intensity.
<goreboy>
"I will. And youâll regret ever thinking you could fuck with her. Donât make me do it, Z."
Your lips parted in a hollow laugh, almost a scoff. You didnât know if you were more afraid of the threat itself or the fact that he seemed to care so much.
You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keys, but no words came. Only the echo of your own fractured thoughts. What were you even doing? What was this twisted, fucked-up game youâd been playing with Angel, with Ronin, with yourself?
<ZOMBIE>
"Whatever. Weâll see. But Iâm keeping Angel safe."
It was the only promise you could make. The only one that mattered.
Then, Angel asked you to video call..
You stared at your screen as Angelâs name flashed, a soft chime breaking the quiet. You hesitated for a moment before answering, her sweet voice immediately filling the line.
âYou look sick,â she said, her tone tinged with concern. âWhatâs wrong? Are you okay?â
You shook your head, trying to brush it off. âNothing. Just... thinking, thatâs all.â
Her voice softened further. âThinking about what? Please, talk to me.â
You hesitated, but then the weight of Roninâs warning spilled out. âHe told me heâd kill me. You know, for saying I... for choosing you.â
There was a sharp intake of breath on her end. âHe said what?â
âDonât worry about it,â you replied, trying to laugh it off. âThatâs just Ronin for you, right?â
But she didnât laugh. âHow could he say something like that? Iâm so sorry he... Iâll talk to him. Iâll make sure he doesnât threaten you again.â
Her sincerity startled you, and you blurted out the question lingering in your mind. âWhy? Why would you protect me?â
There was a moment of silence before she answered, her voice soft and trembling with emotion. âBecause I care about you. No... not really, if Iâm being honest. Youâre sweet, and cool, and... oh, so many things. Iâve never felt like I could be myself with a lot of people. Iâm happy youâre one of them.â
Her words left you speechless, but she wasnât finished. âIâm... glad you felt safe being honest with me. Especially since I am the Heartsick Angel. And may cannibalize you at any given moment,â she added, a teasing lilt in her voice.
You couldnât help but laugh, shaking your head. âNo. Youâre Maria de la Rosa.â
âThat I am,â she said warmly. âAnd... Iâm happy I can be her with you.â
Trying to lighten the mood, you joked, âAlso, embracing the cannibal aesthetic, I see.â
âDonât you know what a joke is?â she asked, her playful tone making you grin.
âNope!â you replied, grinning wider.
She laughed, the sound light and musical, making your heart flutter. You couldnât hold back your thoughts anymore. âYouâre so ethereal. So cute. So pretty.â
She giggled again, her voice laced with shyness. âOh, is that what you think of me? Well, then... tell me more. I'll say more too."
You tilted your head, considering her words. âOnly if youâll tell me what you think of me, too.â
She hummed thoughtfully. âDeal. But you first.â
Taking a deep breath, you began to speak, your words sincere. âYouâre... incredible. Sweet and kind, but also fierce. Itâs like you stepped out of a dream, and sometimes I wonder how youâre even real. And your laugh? Itâs enough to make me feel alive again.â
There was silence for a moment before she responded, her voice soft and full of warmth. âYouâre... something else, you know that? You make me feel seen in a way I never have before. Youâre... beautiful. In a chaotic, wonderful way. And I think... I think I like you more than I should.â
Your chest tightened, warmth blooming inside you as her words settled in. âThatâs... the nicest thing anyoneâs ever said to me.â
She giggled again. âWell, donât get used to it. Iâm only sweet when I want to be.â
âGood thing you want to be sweet with me,â you teased.
âGood thing,â she agreed softly, her voice like a gentle melody.
You took a deep breath, a small smile spreading across your face as you began to speak softly, your voice carrying a hint of bashfulness.
âAngel, youâre⊠so perfect. Like, genuinely. I donât even know how someone like you exists. Youâre kind and thoughtful, and your laughâitâs the kind of sound that could make flowers bloom. Everything about you feels like a miracle, you know?â
On the other end of the call, you heard her giggle, the sound making your heart race. âA miracle? Thatâs a bit much,â she replied playfully, but you could tell she was touched.
You shook your head, your tone growing more insistent. âNo, itâs not. Youâre⊠youâre like a goddess. Not just someone to look up to, but someone to worship. Everything about you, from the way you speak to the way you think, itâs⊠captivating. Itâs like youâre this perfect mix of divine grace and human warmth. Youâre unreal.â
Her giggle softened, a nervous edge creeping into her voice. âYouâre really something else, you know that? The way you talk⊠itâs almost too much.â
But you couldnât stop. The words were spilling out now, your voice gaining intensity. âToo much? No. If anything, itâs not enough. Angel, youâre not just a person to me. Youâre a revelation. I swear, if I could, Iâd carve your name into the sky just so the whole world would know how magnificent you are. Every time you smile, it feels like the universe itself is bending to your will. Youâre not just beautifulâyouâre transcendent.â
âWow, okay,â she said with a nervous laugh, but you barely noticed.
Your voice took on a slightly obsessive edge, trembling with excitement. âYou donât get it, do you? Youâre everything. I think about you constantly. Every time I close my eyes, itâs your face I see. When I hear your voice, itâs like⊠like the world finally makes sense. Youâre the kind of person people would start wars over. And me? Iâd gladly fight for you. Die for you. Youâre worth that and so much more.â
There was a pause on her end, her breathing soft but audible. âYouâre⊠really intense,â she said, her voice quieter now, unsure.
You laughed, a manic edge creeping into the sound as your tone turned darker, almost reverent. âIntense? Of course, Iâm intense. How could I not be when Iâm in the presence of a god? Thatâs what you are, Angelâa god. Youâre everything good in this rotten, broken world. People should bow when they see you. They should sing hymns in your honor. Do you even realize how extraordinary you are? I want to kneel at your feet and give you everything. Everything, Angel. My life, my soulâhell, Iâd carve out my own heart and hand it to you if you asked.â
Her breath hitched, and she tried to laugh it off, but there was a nervous tremor in her voice. âYouâre really going overboard nowâŠâ
But you didnât stop. Your voice rose, filled with fervor and awe, your words tumbling out faster and faster. âOverboard? No. This is the truth, Angel. Youâre not just a personâyouâre the embodiment of everything Iâve ever wanted. Everything anyone could ever want. Youâre pure light, pure perfection. And IâIâm nothing. Just a pile of scraps and stitches, a hollow shell of a thing. But you? Youâre the reason people believe in miracles. Youâre why myths exist. Youâre so far above me, itâs almost laughable, but I donât care. I donât care, Angel, because being in your presence, just hearing your voice, itâs enough to make me believe in something greater.â
âY/NâŠâ she said softly, her tone unsure but laced with something elseâsomething that sounded like pity.
But you werenât finished. Your voice dropped, quieter now but no less intense. âDo you know what youâve done to me? Youâve ruined me, Angel. Completely and utterly. Thereâs no going back now. Every part of me belongs to you, and you didnât even have to try. Youâre⊠everything. And Iâll prove it to you. Iâll show you just how much you mean to me, no matter what it takes.â
Silence stretched between you for a long moment before she finally spoke, her voice shaky. âI⊠donât know what to say to that.â
You smiled, a quiet, almost eerie sound escaping your lips. âYou donât have to say anything, Angel. Just let me worship you. Thatâs all I want. All I need.â
Her nervous laugh echoed through the line, and she tried to shift the mood. âYouâre⊠really something, you know that?â
You leaned back, your voice softening again, but the fervor still lingered beneath the surface. âAnd youâre everything. Remember that.â
She hesitated before replying, her voice gentle but guarded. âIâll⊠try.â
And for a moment, the world felt quiet, your obsession hanging heavy in the air like a prayer left unanswered.
You laughed, a sound that was both joyous and unhinged, echoing with a wild, obsessive energy. "Ronin," you cackled, "he really said heâd kill me if I hurt you! As if I ever could hurt my goddess! HAH! How could I hurt the one who has me bowing at her feet?!" The laughter rolled from your throat again, uncontrollable, almost maniacal.
Angel's soft, worried voice broke through your fit of deranged glee. "Y/N... what happened to your face?"
Her words caught you off guard. Your hand instinctively moved to touch your face, and you frowned, feeling the lack of definitionâthe smooth, featureless surface where your face should have been. You sighed heavily, almost theatrically, waving off her concern.
"Oh," you muttered, a hint of disappointment in your voice. "You can react to abnormal things, huh? My bad." You paused, shaking your head as though chiding yourself. "I got... overexcited, I suppose. There must be no spirit in the face I was making, right? Not enough soul in it."
Angel's eyes widened, and her voice wavered. "What are you talking about? What does that even mean?"
Before you could answer, the room filled with an eerie scratching noise, like the frantic movements of a pencil on paper. It seemed to echo around you, sharp and incessant. Angel flinched, her hands moving to cover her ears.
"Better?" you asked suddenly, your tone casual but laced with an unsettling edge.
Angel slowly removed her hands, her gaze locking onto youâand she froze. Your face, or what had replaced it, was now drawn in stark black lines. Two hollow, uneven circles served as eyes, and a wide, crooked smile stretched from one side of your head to the other, crudely sketched as if by a child with a marker.
You tilted your head, the marker-face unmoving but somehow radiating a sinister cheerfulness. "Do you like me now, Angel? Hm?"
The sketchy smile seemed to twitch, cracks spiderwebbing through the lines as though the drawing was struggling to hold itself together. Angelâs breath hitched, her voice trembling. "What were we just talking about? What... whatâs going on?"
You blinkedâor at least, you made the motion as if you had eyelids to blink with. The drawn face didnât change, but your voice softened, almost playful. "Nothing, really. Just... spacing out, I suppose."
Angelâs brows furrowed, her concern growing. "Y/N, this isnât... normal. Are you okay?"
You let out another laugh, softer this time but no less unsettling. "Angel, Angel, Angel. Normal has never suited me, has it? Donât worry your pretty little head about it."
You took a deep breath, smiling in a way that was disturbingly serene, as if all the madness in your mind had been carefully tucked away. The world felt right again. It was as if nothing had happenedâyour face returned to its usual form, no marker-smile or vacant, featureless expression. You reset everything, and now the atmosphere was calm, almost comforting.
Angel blinked, staring at you in confusion for a moment, before her soft voice broke the silence. "Y/N, what... what just happened? I feel like I missed something." She tilted her head, clearly unsure of what was going on, but her usual warmth was there, wrapped in genuine concern.
You shrugged innocently, your eyes bright with a manic joy hidden beneath the calm. "Oh, Angel, you were just spacing out! Happens to the best of us." Your tone was too casual, too calm, and for a brief second, you wondered if sheâd buy it. Of course, she did.
You didnât wait for her to process your words. Instead, you changed the subject, your mood suddenly shifting to something more playful, more lighthearted.
"Anyways!" you exclaimed, quickly changing the topic with far too much enthusiasm. "I sent you something! A Valentineâs special treat, just for you!" You imagined the excitement bubbling over in her as you dropped the bombshell.
"What? What is it?" Angel asked, her curiosity piqued as she looked toward the screen, clearly expecting something sweet, a moment of warmth.
You grinned, knowing exactly what you'd set her up for. "Itâs strawberry mousse!" you said with a cheeky wink. "You know, a Valentineâs special just for you, Angel!"
Angel blinked, her mouth opening in surprise. "Waitâwhat?! You... you made me something?!" Her voice cracked slightly as the realization hit. You could hear the soft sound of her laughter starting to bubble up from her chest. She giggled nervously, her face slightly flushed. "Y/N, you silly littleâ"
You cut her off, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you leaned in, relishing the moment. "I didnât add any human shit to that mousse, I promise! But the cupcakes, oh, they had the special ingredients." Your voice dropped with a playful, teasing tone.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Y/N! What is wrong with you?!" Her tone was a mix of scandalized surprise and affectionate exasperation. But as soon as the words left her lips, she broke into another giggle. "You're impossible!"
You laughed too, a giddy, almost manic sound. "I know! Itâs my specialty," you replied with a grin that bordered on too wide to be considered normal. "But hey, itâs a Valentineâs special, just for you, and I really hope you enjoy it. No strings attached... this time."
Angelâs giggle continued, light and airy, as she hid her face behind her hands in embarrassment. The way she laughed made something in your chest tightenâboth in sweetness and anticipation. She might be acting a little flustered, but that didnât stop her from indulging in your madness, and in turn, you felt that intoxicating sense of power.
You couldnât help but smile at her, your eyes softening slightly. "Iâm glad youâre enjoying this, Angel. Truly. It means a lot to me."
The playful teasing, the sweet laughterâit felt... right.
.......................................