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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I was the one who requested the Royal Cafe, Can you just do it as a Ronin x Reader?
Inspiration
SINFUL CAFE AND YOUR RONIN
CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!
SUMMARY : Your Cafe is almost dead, Angel saved and A Devil became a Cat?
So you've been in this serial killer server for eight months, and somehow, against all odds, you fell for Ronin. That purgatory of a first kiss? Yeah, it ruined you in the best way. Now itās a whole trendāflirting, fighting, maybe even feeling.
You love him. He loves you. (Maybe.)
Heās feisty about it, of course. Teasing, testing, pushing you just enough to keep you on edge, but never quite letting you fall. And god, you love it. You love him. You love thisāthis insane little corner of the internet where murder is a casual conversation, where death is a game, and where your heart beats way too fast whenever his name pops up in your notifications.
So, tell meāwhatās next?
So, youāre a writer. And an idiot. A beautiful, chaotic idiot who somehowāsomehowāmanaged to open a royal-themed cafĆ© because childhood-you watched one maid cafĆ© anime and said, āYeah, thatās the dream.ā
And guess what? Dream achieved, baby. Youāve got the whole setupāmaids in frilly dresses, butlers in crisp suits, fancy teacups, and a menu with way too many desserts. Itās perfect. Almost.
Except⦠your staff? Absolute disasters.
Your maids? Shit. Your butlers? Worse shit. Half of them canāt carry a tray without causing a full-scale catastrophe. The other half are more likely to flirt with customers for tips than serve them. You hired them for the aesthetic, not the competence, and it shows.
But hey, itās your dream. And if youāre going to go down in flames, at least youāre doing it in a sparkly maid cafĆ©, right?
Your royal cafƩ is on life support.
Sure, youāve got the maids. Youāve got the butlers. Youāve got the fancy-ass menu with cakes that are probably overpriced. But thereās one tiny, devastating problemānobody knows you exist.
Like, youāre out here living your sparkly childhood fantasy, and the universe decided to spit in your crĆØme brĆ»lĆ©e. Customers? Barely any. Popularity? Nonexistent. Itās so bad that your butlers started playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who actually has to work when someoneāfinallyāwalks through the door.
Blood, Guts, and a Lifetime Warranty- Ronin x Reader
WORDS : 11732
TRIGGER WARNING : Graphic Violence, Gore, Murder, Dark Themes
CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!
SUMMARY : On the way to the wedding, Dressed in black, He really did it in his way didn't he? You really had a husband right now. He proposed.
INSPIRED FROM THE ART : @scary-brainrot I love their art! ahh! This was already in my drafts, I finished it!
The art's link (The one I got inspired from)
90 followers special
āThat old man keeps asking when Iāll get married again.ā
Annoying. Worse than annoying. Like a mosquito buzzing in your ear when youāre already halfway to losing your mind.
The garage smells like oil, rust, and Ronināsomething metallic, something alive, something that clings. You could go home, but home is a ringing phone and voices that wonāt like the answers youād give. They love you. You love them. But they wouldnāt love him. Not the way you do.
Some distant uncle, some wrinkled remnant of family dinners and polite disappointment, would take one look at Ronin and say something sharp, something final. And Ronin? Heād roll his tongue along his teeth, slow and deliberate, like a lion deciding if a gazelle is worth the chase. Heād smile too wide, say something thatās both a joke and a promise of violence.
Youād defend him, though. Because youāre his. Because heās yours.
A year, almost. Two sick minds spiraling around each other like dying stars, feeding off the heat, off the destruction. You learned more than you should. Became something sharper, something better, something that fit in the hollow of his ribs. And Ronin, patron saint of pretty rot, never lied about the world. He just pulled back the curtain and let you see it for what it was.
He loves you, but he doesnāt say it. He shows it in the way he existsāraw, unapologetic, a brush dipped in something obscene, painting your name in places no one else would dare.
And you?
You see it now. The way he sees things. The way they were always meant to be seen.
Face it, darlinā. You lost the second you met him.
The sound of metal on metal, the slow grind of a wrench turning bolts, the scent of oil and rust clinging to the air like an old, familiar ghost.
I'm not joking when I say this is my THEE FANFIC that has claimed its title as my favorite
A poem to my childhood fort....(part 2) Ronin x G.N reader
Words:3000
Genre: Angst to fluff, Gift to @sincerelyyourslilly
(Reader is G.N)
I decided to use some of their arts as inspo! Here goes as follows! all by @sincerelyyourslilly
art 1 , art 2, art 3
Ronin x G.N Reader
Flowers at the hell's altar.....
It was March already, and February had slipped by faster than you could have imagined. Life was rolling along, and hey, you'd finally finished that lovely book you'd been working on. Sure, there were a few typos, but who cared?
Because, well... you might not live to see tomorrow.
What a ride it had been. Escaping from your dead-end town, clawing your way up to become a reporter, and now, here you wereāa member of a serial killer server. And to top it off, your lover? Yeah, heās one of them. The kind who wouldnāt hesitate to make you his next victim.
Feli once joked that your story was like Romeo and Juliet, but you knew better. This wasnāt some romantic Shakespearean tragedy. This was something far darker. Twisted.
And maybe there was a poetic beauty in it. Dying at the hands of someone you loved? It sounded romantic... in books. But in real life? Oh, hell no.
Right now, the server was buzzing. Everyone was huddled in the infamous "killer-shit" channel, and the chaos was palpable.
<goreboy> you heard it here first: March is for Murder
<hitmeuppp> OMG canāt believe everythingās coming together in cut season...
<ReaderintoCrowbars> Cut season?
<Angelic> Itās when serial killer activity spikes! Itās such a fun annual phenomenon :3
<ReaderintoCrowbars> That feels... statistically inaccurate...
<goreboy> or maybe the reports are statistically inaccurate
The chat flowed on, but thenāyour heart skipped a beat. He spoke.
<goreboy> i just wanna warn this chat that iāve got a pretty little kill coming right up i think youāll all fucking love it especially you, @ReaderintoCrowbars
Oh. Oh no.
Well, this was it. You could almost feel the icy grip of dread clawing at your throat. But hey, you were a good partner, werenāt you? You decided to play along.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> I look forward to it!
<goreboy> arenāt you a darling
More like a damn fool.
<Angelic> Omg, Iām excited to see it!
<hitmeuppp> oooooo this is TEA omg! u never hype up your murders unless theyāre amazing, and theyāre always so gruesome sooo
<Eviscerator1990> i look forward to this so-called āpretty little killā
<K9> i donāt think i will. but believe what youād like, @goreboy
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> YO A GOREBOY KILL GONNA DROP??? @felicite
<felicite> oh! that sounds fun!
<hitmeuppp> okay but like, whyād he say āespecially @ReaderintoCrowbarsā huh? tea time?? is this some weird murder-dedication thing??
<goreboy> well, in a way, yeah. killing for them.
Nope. Wrong. Heās killing you.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> Haha, Iām excited...
<goreboy> what a sweet little thing you are.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> I just want to be supportive for my boyfriend. Is that so bad?
<goreboy> HAHA! youāre such a naive little thing. just like that time on the bridge.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> What..?
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> IMAGINE CRINGING AT US WHEN LOOK AT YOU TWO FLIRTING IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE SERVER LMAO
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, mind racing. Was this really your end?
The chat was buzzing with anticipation. You could almost hear the teasing tone seeping through every message. It was like a twisted carnival, and you were the main attraction.
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> YO FELI, ME AND RONIN AND YOU SHOULD HAVE A WEDDING IN THE SERVER, A WHOLE SERIAL KILLER SHINDIG!!
You stared at the screen, blinking. A wedding? In this twisted server? Well, it wasn't completely out of character, but stillā
<ReaderintoCrowbars> It's fine, Ronin might not like it...
Roninās response was almost instant, and you could almost hear the amusement in his voice.
<goreboy> Why not? Itās in the server...
You felt the tension build. Was this... real? You swallowed.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> Oh, youāre postponing the killing, Ronin?
He didnāt even hesitate.
<goreboy> No. I just wanna see them being bloodied and sweet... in a way.
Your stomach churned, not in fear but something else. What the hell?
<ReaderintoCrowbars> Guts!? Exactly...
You could see the line of messages flooding in, each more twisted than the last.
<Hitmeupp> OMG, is he really into flowers?
<goreboy> Hm, flowers are hella sweet. Are they too sweet for you, though?
Your mind reeled. Flowers? Really? Is that what youāre thinking about in the middle of all this chaos?
<ReaderintoCrowbars> Do you think flowers are too sweet? Angel?
<Angelicc> YES. Flowers are too sweet. :')
Roninās voice cut through the chat like a knife.
<goreboy> Yeah... flowers are sweet, especially white ones...
Your head spun. White flowers. The kind of symbolism he loved to twist. But why did he say it like that? There was something so sinister in the way he phrased it.
<Angelic> What the hell, Ronin?
<goreboy> Hehe, Angel, donāt make me revive my child...
<Angelic> Iāll just kill it with a pink heart. š
<Feli> Maybe another day for now, letās see whoās the victim of Roninās new killing.
There was a pause, and you almost swore you could feel Ronin's gaze through the screen. His words cut through the chat like a blade, but before you could process them, Luca jumped in with a laugh.
<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> I donāt think his victimās face is gonna be clear with the point of gore, though...
The server erupted into laughter. You could almost hear it in your mindāthe twisted, dark amusement that filled the digital space. Everyone was so... comfortable with the gore, the death, the violence.
And thatās when the chill settled deep in your bones.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> SHIT!!
Goosebumps crawled up your arms, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The laughter felt wrong, hollow, like a foreboding omen. You could feel the weight of Roninās presence, even though he hadnāt said a word. Was he watching? Waiting for you to react?
And there it was again, that familiar feelingālike something was off.
<goreboy> Donāt worry, @ReaderintoCrowbars. Youāll see soon enough.
It wasnāt a promise. It was a declaration. Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct screaming at you. But you couldnāt look away.
<hitmeuppp> Ooooh, Iām so ready for this one! Iām gonna get my popcorn and enjoy the show!
<Angelic> Same here. This oneās gonna be a masterpiece.
And thenā
<goreboy> You all think it's funny? Well, just wait till you see their face.
You froze, the words hanging in the air like a thick fog. The message wasnāt for the chat. It was for you.
You couldnāt shake the feeling that the victim wasnāt some random person, not this time. You were tangled in this mess, and Ronin had his eyes on you.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> What do you mean?
The silence after your question was deafening. Every second felt like an eternity, but then Roninās response came.
<goreboy> Oh, nothing. Just a little preview of whatās to come. Youāll see...
The chat continued, the teasing, the jabs, the laughter. But all you could hear in your head were those words. Youāll see.
The pressure was building, tightening around your chest. You were still there, stuck in the madness, caught in the grip of a man who reveled in deathāand you couldnāt escape it.
Your fingers hovered above the keyboard again, unsure whether to respond, to act... or to just wait for the inevitable.
<goreboy> Maybe youāll be the next pretty little thing. Who knows?
That one hit too close to home. Your heart raced, but you refused to let the panic show. If this was the game Ronin wanted to play, then youād have to play along. But how far would you go? And what would happen when the victim wasn't some random soul on the other side of the screen, but someone close to you?
The server buzzed with an almost disturbing sense of camaraderie, the playful teasing and the sickeningly sweet words directed toward you only adding to the heavy tension that gnawed at the edges of your mind. Roninās game was unfolding, and you were both part of the show and a spectator, unsure of what the next scene would bring.
<hitmeuppp> HEY RONIN! DONāT FLIRT- BUT Y/N YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST <3
The comment made your stomach twist, the constant back-and-forth making everything feel too intimate, too personal. It was almost like they were trying to pull you into a world that didnāt belong to you. But you werenāt the only one caught up in it.
<Feli> Me and Luca are always thankful you gave us the courage to be lovers! We thank you!
The server flooded with messages, all of them dripping with gratitude and affection. It felt like a bizarre parade, each of them handing out praises with a sense of distorted warmth that sent shivers up your spine.
<Vince> You enjoy my sunset pictures. Yes, you are a sweet thing, @goreboy is lucky to have a partner like you. Itās like meeting his wife.
Your heart stilled, and you almost laughed bitterly. Wife? This was spiraling far too quickly, even for your standards.
<Ai hua> Thumbs up for @ReaderintoCrowbars.
The words felt almost mockingly sweet, and you couldnāt tell if they were genuine or just part of Ronin's twisted game. And the whole thing felt so... final.
<Angelic> I feel safe with you when I talk to you, so thankies!
<K9> Out of all here, @ReaderintoCrowbars is humble. I'm thankful thereās a person like you...
You felt the warmth in their words. And yet, it was all so wrong. Your mind screamed that something wasnāt right, but you forced the smile.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> Thank you...
But inside, it felt like a cold wave washing over you. Their compliments were suffocating, their kindness like a trap, and for a brief moment, the truth seemed too clear: This looked like a sendoff.
They were all here, caught up in the fantasy, unaware that the "victim" of Ronin's plan was still a question mark, a fragile variable that could mean anything. You didnāt know how long you could keep pretending, how long you could hold up this facade before everything came crashing down.
<goreboy> Indeed, one in a million...
The weight of Roninās words hung in the air. He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he weaved affection with death, offering you compliments, wrapping you in praiseāonly to pull the rug from under you when you least expected it.
And in that moment, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were the target.
You were the one in the middle of all this, being handed the most intoxicating, beautiful death in the most twisted way possible.
Your heart pounded in your chest, the sickly sweet messages pouring in, their layers of false security building up around you, suffocating you. You were caught between thank yous and goodbyes, unsure of whether this was just some sick joke or the end of a cruel, inevitable game.
The weight of it all crashed down on you like an avalanche, the truth settling in with a terrifying clarity. The entire serverāyour so-called friends, your āsupporters,ā all of themāhad no idea they were laughing, encouraging, and praising a death sentence. And the one pulling all the strings, the one playing you like a puppet, was Ronin.
He wasnāt just some faceless killer. No, he was the one who owned you. The one who had every secret you buried deep within you, every weakness, every desire, every unspoken fear. You were his plaything, his victim, and the worst part? You let yourself fall into it willingly.
But that couldnāt be the end, could it? You had to confront him.
You could feel the tension in your bones, the cold dread curling around your heart. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking as the cursor blinked, daring you to type the words, to confront him.
But the words didnāt come easily. What if you said the wrong thing? What if confronting him only made it worse? What if the serverās dark humor, the weird, twisted affection, was just a small taste of what was to come? But noāthis couldnāt be the end. You couldnāt keep hiding in the shadows, pretending that everything was just some sick joke.
You had to face it.
You looked at the screen, your breath shallow. Your heart beat in your chest like a drum, pounding louder as you took a shaky step toward the truth.
You didnāt need to text the server. They didnāt matter. You only needed to find him. The real Ronin. The man behind the devilās mask.
<goreboy> how are you Rotting along
Y/n?
The words hit like heavy, dead air. You feel them slip through you, like a promise made of ash. Thereās something hollow, a terrible pause that stretches into the distance, but you donāt dare look too far. Youāll drown. Youāre already sinking.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> I'm in love with a devil, hbu?
A silly joke, a pathetic little jest. You donāt laugh. You know the sound of that statement far too well. Love with the devil? Itās never love. Itās something worseāsomething that gnaws at you, like a hunger youāll never satisfy. But you let him have it, let him taste it, because you're too weak to stop. Youāre just as sick as he is.
<goreboy> jesus that's rough the Old testament wants a word with you but hey you're Novel's nearly there no? should i wait for you to finish to kill ya? or maybe i can spare the world another serial killer Incarnation..
Another one. Another joke. Another game. His words drip with poison, sweetened with the bitterness of inevitability. The words hang over you like an executioner's hood. Can you feel the rope tightening around your throat? The truth isāit doesn't matter. It never does.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> I'm fine with you waiting!
The lie falls from your lips with a tremor you canāt hide. But he doesnāt care, does he? He knows. And he laughs, because youāre not his victim yet. But you will be. You always will be.
<goreboy> hah Now where's the fun in that?
Where is the fun in waiting? In torturing yourself slowly as you watch the ground crumble beneath your feet? The twisted thrill of watching you squirm. His words are venom wrapped in silk. Every syllable a slow poison youāre too stupid to reject.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> You don't have to kill me.
Such a sad, pathetic plea. Itās the same thing youāve said a thousand times, but you both know better, donāt you? His smile stretches, knowing how much you ache, how much you want to scream. Heās always waiting, always watching. He wants to see if youāll beg for mercy. But you wonāt. You canāt.
<goreboy> you're right, i don't have to But i sure as fuck want to you know how the saying goes Each to their own
The words slither, full of dark amusement, like a caress of something foul. Itās not about need. Itās about want. Youāre the toy, the plaything, the thing that spins in the web, waiting for the spider to decide how much suffering youāre worth.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> I could kill you.
A whisper, empty as your own breath. But even you donāt believe it. You know what it is: a feeble attempt to wrest control, to play the same game heās already won. Your hands shake, and he knows. He always knows.
<goreboy> could you please try? it's not like i'm the Antichrist Unhinged maybe! but Fucking hell, it ain't hard just turn the knife to me and i'm done, baby
Another taunt, another shove. He dares you to act. To try. He wants you to break. Wants to see you crumble. He waits, watching with those hollow, gleaming eyes. Itās all a show, but youāre the one whoās already bought the ticket.
<ReaderintoCrowbars> .....
<goreboy> Oh? didja think i was serious? Right i forget how you writers are but hey i'll get my will and Testament if you really mean it
<ReaderintoCrowbars> I don't want to kill you, I want you to stop.
Stop. But you know itās too late for that. A desperate gasp, a final plea. The words ring hollow, empty in your throat. Heās already past the point of return, and so are you.
<goreboy> no can do i had fun but time's Fucking Up baby! you were a Crazy good time but a Killer's a killer and Evisceration's in my bones Right ain't that true?
He speaks the truth like a curse, like something ancient and untouchable. He wears it on his sleeve, letting you feel it in your gut, and it makes you sick. Makes you long for something simpler. But youāll never get it. Heās carved himself into you, a mark that wonāt fade.
Why is he soā¦ugh? You canāt get him out of your head. Heās a stain, a mark that lingers on your skin, like blood that never dries, always sticky, always there, pulsing under your flesh. You hate him, or you shouldāgod, you really should. But thatās the cruel trick, isnāt it? Heās made you fall into it. Made you crawl toward him like some damned moth to a flame.
Youād say itās because heās a devil, but thatās too easy. Too neat. Itās because he doesnāt care about being the devil. He knows heās ugly, he knows heās rotten. He doesnāt try to hide it. And god, thatās what makes him even worse. He doesnāt have to pretend, he doesnāt have to fight it. He enjoys being broken, enjoys pushing you deeper into the pit until you lose all sense of who you are, until you canāt remember what was even worth fighting for.
Heās a reflection of everything wrong, every twisted desire youāve tried to bury. And thatās what makes him sickening, isn't it? That ugly part of you that you canāt bear to look at, and yet here he is, flaunting it in your face with that shit-eating grin, like heās won. And youāgod, you know he has. You want to spit in his face, but youāre just too weak to pull away, too tangled in the chaos heās spread around you, too much of a coward to stop playing his fucking game.
He knows it. He sees it. He can read the fear in your veins, the hesitation in your hands, and he thrives on it, drinking it in like some vile nectar. Every step you take to fight him is another thread tightening around your throat, another drop of poison in your system. You canāt escape it. You canāt escape him.
Why does he do this to you? Why canāt he just leave you alone, let you breathe without feeling like his fingers are still around your neck, still pulling you deeper into this world of broken glass and blood-streaked smiles? Youāre not some fucking plaything for his amusement, but try telling him that. Heād laugh, heād look at you with that sick smirk, the one that makes your insides twist and your heart ache.
No. Heās not going to stop. Heās never going to stop. And maybe, just maybe, thatās the real reason you hate him. Because the only thing worse than loving him is realizing youāre trapped in the same cage with him, and he holds the key.
Heās the kind of poison that seeps in slow, until youāre so numb to it, you don't even notice how much of yourself you've lost. Like the sound of blood dripping off the edge of a knife ā it gets quieter the longer you listen, and then, itās just part of the fucking rhythm. Part of the noise. And he's good at this, isn't he? At making it all blend together. The fear. The longing. The hate. Everything becomes one ugly, tangled mess that you donāt know how to untangle, or if you even want to anymore.
You tell yourself you could walk away. You could leave. Itās so easy, right? Just turn your back and step out of this mess. But thatās the lie heās fed you, the one youāve swallowed so many times you canāt tell where it ends and you begin. Itās not easy. Itās not simple. It never was. And he knows that. He knows youāre stuck, even when you think youāve got your legs beneath you.
And god, when he looks at you? Itās like heās inside your skull, turning things over, poking at the dark corners you didnāt even know were there. He doesnāt even have to touch you, doesnāt even have to try to break you anymore. Heās already done it, just by showing you how easy it is to be broken. How simple it is to let the weight of it all crush you under his watchful, uncaring gaze.
You hate him, but you also need him. You canāt escape the fact that heās the one who makes everything feel real. Heās the true thing in a world full of empty promises. You might wish heād disappear, or that you'd have the strength to walk away. But thatās the truthāyou canāt get away, and neither can he. Heās as much a part of you as the parts you wish you could burn out of yourself.
Roninās face on the screen was sharp, predatoryāa cruel grin spread across it like he knew the outcome of this twisted little game before it even began. His voice was velvet laced with razor blades, dragging over your nerves as he taunted, āYāknow what? You donāt want me to kill ya? Why donāt you plead? Beg, even.ā
Your throat tightened, words tumbling out before you could stop them. "Please donāt kill me."
The laugh he let out was nothing short of wicked, pure mockery dripping from it. āChrist, youāre pathetic. Say that again.ā
You swallowed hard. āPlease⦠donāt kill me.ā
But that wasnāt enough for him. His grin grew sharper, cutting through the space between you like a blade. āIām done playing around. You wanna be a serial killer? Act the part.ā
Your hands trembled, but your voice came out steady, almost detached. āFine. Letās play a game.ā
āTruth.ā His answer was immediate, smug.
You exhaled shakily. āI want you to tell me why youāre the way you are.ā
The grin faltered for a split second, just a flicker, before he regained control. āI want you to tell me why you are the way you are.ā
The words came unbidden, raw and cracked. āI want to be someone other than me.ā
His eyes darkened, a strange stillness settling over his expression. āI get that abject feeling,ā he murmured, voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. āWas it because of what your first love told you?ā
The mention of it struck you like a blow. Your stomach twisted, the pain of it old but sharp as ever. You didnāt answer right away, just nodded, your gaze falling to the screen in your lap.
Roninās tone turned mocking again, the sharp edge of his words back in full force. āYou donāt even know how the fuck he looks like, how the fuck he is right now, yet you say he was your first love.ā
Your lips twitched into a bitter smile, the chuckle escaping more hollow than you meant it to be. āIf someone gives you hope to live,ā you began, your voice quieter now, steadier despite the chaos inside you, āto you, theyāre a key⦠to the start of everything.ā
His expression tightened, unreadable. āAnd?ā
āAnd you, Ronin,ā you said, voice sharper now, cutting through the tension like a blade, āyouāre the key to opening it. Beaufort pushed me to live. You pushed me to accept it.ā
There was silence on his end, just for a beat, before he tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. āAccept what?ā
You let out a breathy, bitter laugh, staring right into the screen. āThat loving you makes me insane. And itās fine.ā
For once, he didnāt respond immediately. The grin was gone, replaced by something quieter, something darker. He didnāt deny it, didnāt taunt you this time. Instead, his gaze burned into yours, and in that suffocating silence, the only sound was the unsteady rhythm of your own heart. Youād said it. Youād accepted it.
Your voice trembled slightly, curiosity clawing its way past fear as you finally asked, "How could you tell? Beaufortās a heā¦"
Roninās chuckle was low, dark, and dripping with something unspoken, like a predator toying with its prey. Then, without warning, he tipped his head back and laughedāa sound that was equal parts maddening and intoxicating, like heād just peeled back a layer of your soul for his own amusement. He didnāt answer, of course. He just stared, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face like he knew something you didnāt, something youād never be able to figure out.
The silence grew heavier with every passing second. His laugh still echoed faintly in your head, unsettling, and yet... there was an undeniable pull to it. He didnāt need to say anything, because the weight of his knowing gaze was answer enough.
Something inside you twisted painfully, a knot of emotions too tangled to unravel. "Youāre quietā¦" you said softly, your voice cutting through the tension like a whisper in a storm. "You make dying feel⦠not so bad, in a way."
That earned another chuckle, softer this time, and yet it hit harder, like a hand closing around your throat. His eyes gleamed with something you couldnāt name, something that made your stomach flip and your chest ache all at once.
Your lips curved into a small, broken smile, the weight of everything crashing into you at once. "Youāre a devil with a saintās heart," you said, your words a mixture of awe and despair. "At least to the ones you care about."
Ronin leaned closer to the camera, his grin faltering ever so slightly as something colder, sharper replaced it. "Care, huh?" he said, his voice like velvet dipped in venom. "Sweetheart, donāt mistake me for something Iām not. But if it makes you feel better to believe that, go ahead. Lie to yourself."
You shook your head slowly, that smile still lingering, fragile but defiant. "Itās not a lie," you murmured. "You care in your own way⦠even if itās twisted, even if it hurts. And thatās what makes you dangerous."
His eyes narrowed, the air between you growing heavier, suffocating. But you didnāt back down. You couldnāt. The storm inside you was already raging, and somehow, facing him head-on felt like the only way to keep from drowning.
"Fine." Your voice wavered, but the resolve in your tone was undeniable. "Dare. Give me a kiss."
Ronin's smirk widened, sharp and wicked, his laugh rolling through like a storm. "Oh, someone's desperate. I'll give you a kiss, all right. I'll give you love, I'll fuckin' damage you, I'll kiss my knife to your throat and send your pretty little head into oblivion. Is that what you want?"
Your heart pounded, fear and something darker twisting together in a brutal dance. "It's everything I want," you whispered, voice trembling yet certain.
His gaze narrowed, the smirk faltering for a split second before returning full force. "That's how you like it? Death?"
"Only because it's you," you replied without hesitation.
Ronin let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head as if he couldnāt believe what he was hearing. "You think I won't kill you?"
"You'd miss me too much," you said, your lips curling into a faint, defiant smile.
He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes glinting with something unhinged. "Hah! It's your turn. Truth or dare?"
"Truth," you answered quickly. But before you could breathe, he added, "Two questions. Shoot them at me."
You hesitated for a moment, but curiosity burned hotter than caution. "Your real name... And... why did you say Beaufort's a he?"
Ronin's laugh was softer this time, almost indulgent. "Darlin', you've already muttered my real name multiple times," he drawled, his tone mockingly sweet. "And as for the second... I did tell you, in my own way. Figure it out."
Your stomach dropped, your breath catching in your throat. His real name? You stared at him, bewildered, before your mind began piecing it together. Frantically, you scrolled through old texts, the memories flashing in your mind.
"You're Beaufort...?" you whispered, disbelief and realization washing over you like cold water.
He grinned, sharp and predatory, like heād been waiting for this moment. "Darlin', full name. Achieve your victory."
Your heart pounded in your ears as the pieces clicked together, and you almost shouted, "You're Ronin Beaufort!"
Ronin clapped slowly, mock applause ringing out as he chuckled. "Atta lover. You got it."
You were reeling, your emotions crashing like waves. The man who had saved you, the one who had given you hope when you thought it was gone... was the same man who now threatened to take it all away.
"I have so much I want to sayā"
He raised a hand, silencing you with a look, his grin fading into something more solemn, more chilling. "Save it," he said, his voice low, almost tender. "Meet me in purgatory, Y/N L/N."
And with that, the call ended, leaving you staring at the dark screen, your reflection staring back.
You sat there, your chest tight, your mind racing. The man who had been your salvation was now your reckoning. The irony of it twisted in your gut, a cruel joke the universe had written just for you.
The man who saved you is the man whoās going to kill you now. Romantic, isnāt it? Like a prayer answered wrongāhalf by heaven, half by hell, their hands slick with irony and divinity alike. Ronin Beaufort, of all people. The scum of the earth who wears the title like a tailored suit, grinning that god-awful, shit-eating grin, the one that makes you hate and love him in the same breath.
Heās problematic in all the ways that hurt. A walking paradox. A savior who drags you from the edge only to dangle you there again, one hand loose and laughing. He doesnāt care to split truth from illusion, prefers to blur the lines until you're drowning in them, his voice the only anchor. And you? You let him.
Oh, how you prayed. Once. For someone who could take your cracked soul and hold it without breaking further. And here he is, smiling sharp like broken glass, throwing your devotion back in your face like a spilled milkshake on a Sunday afternoon. He calls it a tragedy, your love, and maybe heās right. Maybe thatās the beauty of it.
You wanted a lover, and you got him. The universe said yes but handed you the devil in exchange for a saint. Ronin Beaufort doesnāt love like humans do; he consumes. He devours. He kisses like knives and whispers like poison, and you thank him for it, every single time.
He was your salvation once. Now he's your favorite ruin.
Purgatory stank of iron and rot, a place where the Devilās Butcher carved his gospel in gore. Limbs draped like forgotten ornaments, blood pooling in stagnant art. It was vile. It was Ronin Beaufort. He always did know how to make an impressionāhow to turn the macabre into something almost poetic, like Baudelaire with a butcherās blade. And you? You were walking straight into it, lilies pressed to your chest like a love letter.
Funny, isnāt it? The lilies. You remembered the serverās jokes, the teasing about your dreams. The little moments that felt far away now, drowned beneath the weight of thisāthis grand funeral march you were dragging yourself through. White petals, clean and soft, clashing with the grime of the alleyway ahead. You didnāt flinch, though. Not even when you saw the shadows stretch like teeth waiting to devour you.
You held the lilies tighter, a fragile little prayer against the inevitable. You walked slow, deliberate, like a bride making her way to the altar. And maybe you were. Maybe thatās exactly what this was. A wedding, grotesque and holy all at once, the groom waiting for you in the heart of the slaughter. Ronin Beaufort, the man who saved you just to kill you. The man who made you laugh, made you ache, made you fall.
The alleyway swallowed you whole, but you didnāt stop. You couldnāt. Every step echoed, slow and steady, like a heartbeat counting down. You thought of his grin, that awful, beautiful thing, a scythe dressed up like a smile. Thought of his voice, the way it cut deeper than any blade ever could.
This was fine. This was right. Because the groom was him, and the death was yours, and youād always known it would end this way. You just didnāt know it would feel so much like love.
Ronin Beaufort, the scum of the earth, leaned against the cracked brick wall, a knife, Too precise. Too clean. Ronin wasnāt about precisionāhe was about devastation. He thrived in the jagged edges, the broken pieces, the chaos that bled into everything he touched. And now, he was here, waiting for you like the devil at the gates of hell.
His grin carved itself across his face when he heard your footsteps, slow and deliberate, like a death march. āSo we meet at last!ā he called out, voice dripping with mockery, with glee, like this was some grand reunion and not the end of you. āItās so nice to see youā¦ā His words trailed off as his eyes caught the lilies clutched to your chest, his grin faltering for just a moment before widening again. āWhatās this? A gift for the devil?ā
You stopped a few steps away, leaned against the wall, and hugged the lilies tighter to your chest. āSomething to offer,ā you murmured, your voice calm, resigned, like you were handing over your soul without a fight.
Roninās gaze flickered, something unreadable flashing in those maddening eyes. He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his crowbar scraping against the ground like a low growl. āLilies, huh?ā he mused, his voice softening as he reached you. āPretty things. Like you.ā
Your breath hitched as his hand shot out, pressing you against the wall with a force that left no room for escape. The lilies crushed between you, petals trembling as your chests heaved, your hearts so close you swore you could feel the thrum of his aorta against your own. Instinctively, your hands flew up to his neck, not to push him away, but to hold on, to steady yourself against the onslaught of him.
His grin returned, sharper now, predatory. āWhatās wrong, darling? You look surprised,ā he murmured, his voice a razor slicing through the silence. His eyes bore into yours, searching, mocking, daring you to speak.
The gasp caught in your throat, but he left no room for air, no room for doubt. Roninās voice dropped low, a velvet drawl that coiled around you like smoke. āDo you like me now?ā
Your head bobbed before you could stop it, the truth spilling out in a fragile whisper. āI like you now.ā
His grin curved, dark and knowing. āBefore?ā
You swallowed hard, gripping the shreds of confidence you had left. āBefore too,ā you admitted, voice steady despite the tremble threatening to break it.
He tilted his head, his face mere inches from yours, his breath a ghost against your skin. āWrite me a love note, darlinā,ā he drawled, his grin sharpening into something cruel and intimate all at once.
You stared into his eyesāthose maddening eyes that seemed to see everythingāand said it softly, like a revelation. āI know your name now. I could end this. I could end you.ā
Ronin chuckled, the sound dark and dangerous, like the low growl of a predator toying with its prey. āWill ya do it, then?ā he asked, pressing closer, the crushed lilies a trembling barrier between you.
āNo.ā
The word came out firm, unwavering, and his eyes flickered with something you couldnāt quite place. Amusement? Relief? Whatever it was, it only made him press against you harder, the lilies between your chests crushed almost beyond recognition. āThese for me?ā he murmured, his voice soft, curious. His fingers brushed the petals, a touch that seemed almost reverent. āHowād you know I always loved them?ā
You didnāt answer, couldnāt answer, the words trapped somewhere in the back of your throat.
His lips brushed your ear, his voice a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. āWhatās wrong, darlinā? Too much to say but no words to say it with?ā
You almost enjoyed it too muchāhis breath on your ear, the weight of him pinning you against the wall, the crushed lilies releasing their faint, tragic fragrance between your chests. Ronin noticed. Of course, he noticed.
And he laughed. A deep, throaty laugh that shook through him and straight into you. It wasnāt cruelānot entirelyābut it was filled with something close to delight. Amusement. He was laughing at you.
āGoddamn,ā he muttered, his voice dripping with mirth. āYouāre pathetically adorable, you know that?ā
Your cheeks flamed, your heart hammered against the fragile wall of crushed petals, and you turned your face away from him, trying to hide the heat rising to your skin.
Ronin tilted his head, watching you with a sharp grin that softened just enough to make it dangerous. āAw, wait,ā he said, his tone mock-apologetic. āMaybe not pathetic? Nahā¦ā His voice trailed off as his grin widened.
He leaned closer again, his eyes scanning your face, drinking in every ounce of your flustered silence. āAwww,ā he drawled, teasing. āYou look like youāre about to melt into the fuckinā floor. That for me, too, darlinā? Or is it the flowers?ā
You managed to lift your gaze back to his, and the smirk on his face made you want to laugh, scream, or cryāor maybe all three at once. He tilted his head like he was waiting for an answer, but you knew him better by now.
You almost enjoyed it too muchāhis breath on your ear, the weight of him pinning you against the wall, the crushed lilies releasing their faint, tragic fragrance between your chests. Ronin noticed. Of course, he noticed.
And he laughed. A deep, throaty laugh that shook through him and straight into you. It wasnāt cruelānot entirelyābut it was filled with something close to delight. Amusement. He was laughing at you.
āGoddamn,ā he muttered, his voice dripping with mirth. āYouāre pathetically adorable, you know that?ā
Your cheeks flamed, your heart hammered against the fragile wall of crushed petals, and you turned your face away from him, trying to hide the heat rising to your skin.
Ronin tilted his head, watching you with a sharp grin that softened just enough to make it dangerous. āAw, wait,ā he said, his tone mock-apologetic. āMaybe not pathetic? Nahā¦ā His voice trailed off as his grin widened.
He leaned closer again, his eyes scanning your face, drinking in every ounce of your flustered silence. āAwww,ā he drawled, teasing. āYou look like youāre about to melt into the fuckinā floor. That for me, too, darlinā? Or is it the flowers?ā
You managed to lift your gaze back to his, and the smirk on his face made you want to laugh, scream, or cryāor maybe all three at once. He tilted his head like he was waiting for an answer, but you knew him better by now.
āCome on, darlinā. Tell meāwhat do you want?ā Roninās voice was a low, syrupy drawl, the kind that coiled around your thoughts like smoke. He tilted his head, watching your every twitch, your every breath. āDo you hate me? Do you love me? Do you wanna kill me? 'Cause look, I got a knife right hereā¦ā
His grin spread wider as he brought the blade into view, holding it out to you, a taunting glint in his eyes. āOr are you kissinā me, huh? How much do you feel? How much can you even take?ā
The knife felt cool in your palm when you took it. For a moment, his gaze sharpened, curious, waitingāwould you do it? Could you? Your fingers tightened on the hilt, and he didnāt move, didnāt flinch. If anything, his grin only grew sharper, like he was daring you.
But you didnāt. You couldnāt. The blade clattered to the ground as you threw it aside, and before he could make some snide, smug comment, you grabbed his face and kissed him.
For a second, the world stopped. Or maybe it spun faster, collapsing in on itself as he responded like only Ronin couldāwith no hesitation, no restraint. He kissed you back, and in true Ronin fashion, it wasnāt soft or tentative; it was raw and consuming, a wildfire of teeth and lips and heat.
His hands found your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, pressing you harder against the wall. The crushed lilies between you released their scent again, a bittersweet perfume that tangled with his cologne and the metallic scent of the knife.
You gasped into the kiss, your hands instinctively clutching at him, pulling him closer. He chuckled against your lips, the sound low and dangerous and entirely him.
But it was fine. It was more than fine.
Because this wasnāt just Ronin Beaufortāthe Devilās Butcher, the scum of the earth who wore chaos like a second skin.
No, this was your Ronin Beaufort.
And as his lips claimed yours again, as his fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you further into him, you couldnāt bring yourself to care about anything else. Not the knife, not the lilies, not even the bloodstained shadows of Purgatory.
Ronin let you go, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment, it felt quiet, suspended between the lingering touch of his lips and the adrenaline still thrumming in your veins.
You glanced over him, noticing something oddāhe didnāt have his usual crowbar with him. That caught you off guard. āWait... you didnāt bring it?ā
He pulled back just enough to give you that grin of his, the one that screamed trouble. āNever mind that,ā he said, his voice a purr.
You squinted at him, something in his tone raising red flags. āWhat does that mean? You never... wanted to kill me?ā
āKill you? Nah.ā He leaned back further, stretching his arms behind his head like this was the most casual conversation in the world. āOver, like, fuckinā with you? Itās a game, darlinā.ā
Your jaw dropped. āWhat?!ā
Ronin laughedāa loud, shameless laugh that bounced off the alleyway walls. āOh, man, itās funny. You, all praise for Beaufort, and now youāre losing it ācause it turns out heās just some mechanic-slash-serial-killer who got a kick outta savinā you.ā He was grinning so wide it was almost obnoxious. āYeah, I remember pullinā you outta that mess. But I never took it to heart. I wasnāt expectinā you to... yāknow, make me your whole-ass religion or whatever.ā
Your cheeks puffed out in frustration, and before you knew it, you were practically stomping your foot. āSo all those threatsāthe killing, the knives, the cat-and-mouse bullshitāit was just a game?!ā
He clapped his hands together, still laughing like youād just told the funniest joke in the world. āGoddamn right, it was! And you? You played right into it, darlinā. Couldnāt have asked for a better partner.ā
You stared at him, eyes wide and glistening, and before you knew it, the tears started to spill over. You couldnāt stop them. You just stood there, trembling, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.
Ronin blinked, caught completely off guard. āWait, wait, waitāhold up, darlinā. Youāre cryinā?ā His tone was part disbelief, part amusement.
You sniffled, trying to catch your breath, but it was useless. The dam had broken, and there was no going back. āWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!ā
Roninās grin twitched, caught between wanting to laugh and genuinely not knowing what to do. āOh, cāmon, donāt do this. Youāre gonna ruin my bad-boy rep if people see me dealinā with this.ā
You wailed louder, smacking his chest weakly. āYouāre a JERK! A LYING JERK!ā
āHey now!ā He caught your wrist mid-swing, still trying to stifle a laugh. āI never lied. I just... didnāt tell you everything.ā
āWAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!ā
āAlright, alright!ā He held his hands up like he was surrendering, his teasing grin faltering just enough to show he was trying to figure out how to fix this. āYou want me to apologize? Iāll apologize. Iām sorry, darlinā. There, happy?ā
You glared at him through teary eyes, hiccuping as you tried to respond. āNo! Thatās notāhicāenough! Youāsniffāyouāre so mean!ā
He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. āYouāre killinā me, yāknow that? Youāre the one cryinā, but I feel like Iām the one dyinā here.ā He tilted his head, giving you a lopsided grin. āYou really are somethinā else, huh? Tears anā all. Still look cute, though.ā
You hiccupped again, your sobs slowing just a bit, but your lip still trembled. āY-Youāre horrible.ā
āYeah, yeah, Iāve heard it all before.ā He stepped closer, tilting your chin up with a finger. āBut youāre still here, arenātcha? Cryinā over me, no less. Gotta mean somethinā, huh?ā
You tried to pull away, but he just chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. āCāmere. Get it all out. You done wailinā, or should I brace myself for another round of āWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHā?ā
Your sobs didnāt stopāif anything, they got louder. Ronin, the smug bastard, just stood there watching you with that shit-eating grin, hands on his hips like he was some kind of hero.
But then, out of nowhere, he swooped down, grabbing you around the waist. Before you could even react, he hoisted you up like a sack of potatoes and threw you over his shoulder.
āW-WHAT THEā?!ā You shrieked, pounding your fists on his back. āPUT ME DOWN, YOU IDIOT! YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!ā
He laughed, deep and hearty, the sound vibrating through his body and into yours. āYouāre too cute when youāre mad, darlinā. I gotta savor this.ā
āRONIN BEAUFORT, I SWEAR TO EVERYTHING HOLY, PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!ā
āNah.ā He gave your leg a playful pat. āYouāre too much fun up there. Plus, you were gettinā all dramatic with the cryinā. Thought Iād mix it up a bit.ā
You kicked your feet uselessly, feeling the blood rush to your head. āTHIS IS NOT MIXING IT UP! THIS IS HUMILIATION!ā
āOh, cāmon.ā He turned his head just enough to glance at you, his grin still plastered across his face. āYou were already makinā a scene, bawlinā your eyes out like that. Least now youāve got a reason to be loud.ā
āYOUāRE THE WORST PERSON ALIVE!ā
āAnd yet youāre still here.ā He adjusted you slightly, like you were some kind of lightweight duffel bag, not a fully grown human. āAdmit it, darlinā. You kinda like it.ā
āI DO NOT!ā You pounded your fists on his back again, harder this time. āYOU ARE INSANE!ā
He just laughed again, a low, lazy sound that made you want to strangle him. āInsane for you, maybe.ā
āOH MY GOD, STOP SAYING CRINGY STUFF!ā
āCringy?ā He scoffed, feigning offense. āThatās the thanks I get for sweepinā you off your feet? Harsh, darlinā. Real harsh.ā
You let out a frustrated scream, which only made him laugh harder. āUgh! Ronin, if you donāt put me down this instant, I willāā
āYouāll what?ā he interrupted, his voice teasing. āCry some more? Punch my back? Call me names? Youāve got me so scared, darlinā.ā
āYOUāRE IMPOSSIBLE!ā
āYeah, yeah.ā He gave your leg another pat. āKeep yellinā, sweetheart. Youāre music to my ears.ā
Ronin didn't give you much of a choice. He wasn't about to let you walk home in the middle of the night. It was like his personal mission to keep you near him, no matter how much you tried to argue. āYouāre comin' with me,ā he said with that grin, the one you were quickly growing to hate and... secretly like? "Besides, it's the perfect time to show you my den."
āWaitāwhat?ā you asked, eyebrows shooting up in confusion as he practically dragged you to his motor.
āYou heard me, darlinā. I donāt trust you to wander around alone. Itās late, and you might find yourself in the wrong company.ā
You were about to protest again, but you caught the serious glint in his eyes.
When you arrived, you realized his house was... messy. Not just a little clutteredāa lot of clutter. Old pizza boxes stacked against the walls, clothes thrown over the back of furniture, and somehow a few mismatched socks floating around. Yet, somehow, it felt strangely comfortable.
You couldn't help but smirk to yourself, but you weren't about to tell him that. He had this way of making everything look chaotic but strangely right.
Ronin led you inside and set about making you tea. You blinked, surprised at how domestic it felt. Him, of all people, making tea? It was... oddly endearing. His messy kitchen felt more like home than any pristine, perfect house could.
"Go sit on the bed, darlinā," he said, motioning to his cluttered mattress. "Iāll be right there."
You hesitated, eyeing the bed like it might swallow you whole. With a sigh, you plopped down on the edge, still unsure of what the hell was going on. Ronin, meanwhile, was casually leaning against the doorframe, watching you with an unreadable expression.
He handed you the tea, his usual smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "So," he started, his voice low. "Is this what you imagined, darlin'? Me, in my element, at home with you?ā
You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the blush creeping up your neck. āItās... different than what I expected, yeah.ā
āYouāve got that look in your eyes like you're disappointed,ā he teased, his grin widening. āYou thought I was gonna be this perfect, suave man, huh? The great Beaufortāsaving you and all that. And now youāve found out Iām a total mess. Reality disappoint you, baby?ā
You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "No... youāre way more than I thought. In a good way," you added quickly, eyes flicking to his for a moment before looking away, hoping he wouldn't catch how much your heart skipped a beat.
Roninās smile turned devious, his eyes narrowing as if he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you. "Aw, donāt get all shy on me now," he purred. "Darlinā, I don't bite... unless you want me to."
And in that moment, it felt like your heart tried to explode out of your chest. You almost couldnāt breathe. What was it about him that made your stomach twist and your cheeks flush every single time he said something like that? The entire room felt suffocating as you barely managed to squeak out a, āHmph!ā
He chuckled at your flustered reaction, moving closer until he was right next to you, just close enough to tease. "You're killin' me, darlin'. It's like you want me to keep messin' with you."
You didnāt answer right away. How could you? You wanted to scream, to curse him out for making your heart race like this, but you couldnāt bring yourself to. Instead, you took a long sip of the tea he made you, trying to calm your nerves, even though it wasnāt working. Every time he was near, it felt like you were on the edge of something you couldnāt quite explain.
The night ended with you surrendering to the magnetic pull Ronin seemed to have over you. One moment, you were sipping your tea and trying to steady your breath, and the next, you were crawling toward him, captivated by the devilish grin on his face. The rest of the night was a blurāa fever dream of heat and adrenaline, of whispered words and teasing laughter, of him pulling you closer and never letting go. His intensity was suffocating and thrilling all at once, and somewhere in the haze of it all, you realized that you didnāt want it any other way.
Morning came too quickly. The sunlight spilling through the cracks in the blinds painted golden streaks across the room, highlighting the chaos of the night before. His shirt hung off the edge of a chair. Your clothes were scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs leading to the bed where he still lay, sprawled out like he owned the entire world. His dark hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions, and his face was softened in sleep.
You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling your shoes on and trying to steady yourself after the whirlwind that was last night. It wasnāt like you to stay this long. Usually, youād slip out quietly, not giving anyone the satisfaction of seeing you linger. But Ronin wasnāt like anyone else, and you hated how much of your time he had managed to steal.
āRonin,ā you said softly, breaking the morning quiet. āDo you ever get tired?ā
His only response was a muffled groan as he buried his face deeper into the pillow. āCome back to bed,ā he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.
āYeah, as if Iām falling for that again,ā you replied with a roll of your eyes, standing up and straightening your clothes. Your tone was sharp, but your heart betrayed you, fluttering at the sheer domesticity of it all. You werenāt used to thisāwerenāt used to waking up in someone elseās space, especially not someone like him.
Ronin finally stirred, cracking one eye open to watch you as you moved around the room. His voice, raspy and teasing, broke the quiet. āWhen it comes to you, darlinā? I donāt get tired.ā
You froze, his words sinking in deeper than they should have. He had a way of saying things that felt like they were wrapped in layersāhalf a joke, half the truth, and entirely too much for your heart to handle.
āDonāt start,ā you muttered, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. āIāve already seen enough of you for one night.ā
He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through the room. āYou were just getting to the good part, though.ā
āOh, well,ā you shot back, trying to ignore the way his laughter made your chest tighten. āGuess Iāll survive without it.ā
You turned to leave, but before you could even take a step, Ronin sat up, his movements slow and deliberate. His messy hair and rumpled appearance made him look more human than you were used to seeing him, but his eyesāthose sharp, piercing eyesāreminded you exactly who you were dealing with.
āLeavinā so soon, darlinā?ā he drawled, leaning against the wall with a smirk that was equal parts cocky and dangerous.
You clenched your fists at your sides, refusing to let him get under your skin again. āI have a life to get back to, you know. I canāt just waste my time lounging around with you.ā
He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. āWaste your time, huh? That what last night was to you?ā
Your breath hitched, and you hated the way his words cut through your defenses. He always knew exactly what to say to make you question everything.
āDonāt twist my words,ā you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.
Ronin pushed off the wall, his movements slow and predatory as he closed the distance between you. āTwistinā your words?ā he repeated, his tone laced with mock innocence. āNah, Iām just makinā sure I understand. āCause it sounded to me like you had a pretty good time.ā
You glared at him, refusing to back down even as he stood inches away from you. āYouāre insufferable.ā
āAnd yet,ā he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur, āyou keep cominā back.ā
Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldnāt find the words to respond. His proximity was overwhelming, and the intensity in his eyes made it impossible to think straight.
You didnāt know how to respond to that, so you didnāt. Instead, you adjusted your bag and made your way to the door, hoping he wouldnāt say anything else to stop you.
But of course, he wasnāt going to let you leave without one last jab.
āDonāt be a stranger now, darlinā,ā he called after you, his voice dripping with amusement. āDoorās always open for you.ā
You froze at the edge of the threshold, hand trembling as it gripped the doorframe. His words echoed in your mind, weaving themselves into something you couldnāt ignore. āDonāt be a stranger now, darlinā.ā It was said with that familiar smirk, that teasing lilt, but there was something underneath it. Something raw. Something real.
Before you could stop yourself, you turned on your heel and ran back into the room. He looked up, startled by the sudden sound of your hurried footsteps. His eyes, sharp and calculating, softened the moment they met yours. For a split second, you saw something vulnerable flash across his face, like he wasnāt quite sure if you were running back to him or away from him.
Without hesitation, you grabbed his hand, threading your fingers through his. His hand was warm, rough, a stark contrast to your own trembling grip. He blinked down at you, confusion and something unreadable flickering in his expression.
āWhat are youāā he started, but you didnāt let him finish. You leaned up on your tiptoes, brushing a feather-light kiss against his cheek. The gesture was soft, fleeting, but it carried a weight that made his breath hitch.
āThank you for existing that day,ā you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. āRonin...ā His name fell from your lips like a prayer, reverent and full of something you couldnāt quite name.
For once, he didnāt laugh. He didnāt tease. He didnāt crack a joke to break the tension. He just stared at you, his lips parted as though he wanted to say something but couldnāt find the words. His hand tightened around yours, his grip steadying you even as you felt like you might fall apart under the weight of your own emotions.
āYou...ā His voice was quieter than youād ever heard it, almost hesitant. āYou donāt have to thank me, darlinā.ā
āBut I do,ā you insisted, your voice firmer now. āIf you hadnāt been there... If you hadnāt... saved me...ā Your throat tightened, the words catching like a lump you couldnāt swallow. āI wouldnāt be here. I wouldnāt be standing here, holding your hand, saying your name. So... thank you. For being there. For existing.ā
He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours like he was trying to figure out if you were real or just another dream heād wake up from. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as a crooked smile tugged at his lips.
He looked down at your joined hands, then back at you. āYouāre full of surprises, darlinā. Iāll give you that.ā
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. āI think we both are.ā
Ronin tilted his head, his grin softening into something almost... tender. āMaybe. But I think you mightāve just outdone me this time.ā
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, filled with the unspoken connection between you. Finally, he gave your hand a squeeze, his smirk returning as he said, āNow, if youāre gonna stick around, how ābout I make you another cup of tea? Or were you planninā on stealing my heart and runninā out the door again?ā
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. āTea sounds good,ā you said softly.
He nodded, leading you back toward the kitchen with your hand still in his.
I'm honestly speechless, this has to be one of my favorite fics up to date !
A poem to my childhood fort....(part 1) Ronin x G.n reader
Words:3000
Genre: Angst to fluff, Gift to @sincerelyyourslilly
(Reader is G.N)
Ronin x G.N Reader
All you ever wanted was to be a successful crime writer. Not the next best-seller, not a household nameājust someone who could spin a story without that relentless, soul-crushing writer's block creeping in. Every time you opened a blank document, it stared back at you, mocking, empty. And every time, you closed it, frustration bubbling over.
Why was it so hard? Youāve written before. Sure, some of it was cringe fanfictionāokay, a lot of it was cringe fanfictionābut writing used to come so easily. Back then, the words practically bled onto the page. Now, they just... donāt.
You needed inspiration. Something visceral, raw, a spark that could ignite your creative inferno. It wouldnāt come from endless Google searches, that was for sure. Inspiration like that demanded you dig deeperāinto the recesses of your heart, into shadows most people were too afraid to explore.
Surely, there was no harm in doing some light research, right? Itās not like you were going to end up on some FBI watchlist just for being curious about murder methods.
Right?
Being a news reporter gave you plenty of access to grim realities. You had an eye for the grotesque, the macabre. You couldnāt help but marvel at the artistry in the work of the cityās most infamous killer. The Butcher, as the media had branded them, was a twisted kind of genius. Their victimsāif you could even call them thatāwere their canvas. Each one a masterpiece of gore and carnage. Fleshed out, literally, in a way that screamed passion and precision.
To the public, it was nauseating. To you?
It was inspiring.
You toyed with the idea of writing about them, a crowbar-wielding serial killer stalking the streets. The thing is...you didnāt know much about crowbars. Did they bash? Bludgeon? Crush? Did it take more than one hit? You needed details, and where better to get them than the internet?
T.com had a certain charm to it. The best (and worst) of humanity hung out there. You figured it was safer than delving into the dark web, so you posted your question there.
asking for a friend hey can anyone with experience killing a person with a crowbar dm me, it's really important thank you.
The post was short, straightforward, and definitely not suspicious. Nothing that would have people side-eyeing you...right? You werenāt that desperate to go digging into the deep web for inspiration. Yet.
You hit āpost.ā
And then you waited.
It didnāt take long for someone to slide into your DMs.
That DM changed everything.
You met him,
Your muse. Your inspiration. Your⦠childhood tragedy.
The senderās username was cryptic, but the link they sharedāākillrch8t_b00t.mangoāāwas even more so. Against your better judgment, you clicked it. What you found was...unexpected. A server. A private chatroom for people like you.
Only, they werenāt writers. They were killers.
At first, you didnāt know it was him. But looking back now, it all makes sense. So, dear writer, hereās what happened:
You were just a simple writer, but you somehow got invited to a serial killer server by a guy who apparently adores crowbars. It didnāt take long for you to realize that this guy? He was the Butcher.
So, naturally, you decided to play along. To āslay,ā as they say.
At first, you didnāt realize who you were talking to. The Butcher. The Butcher. You thought you were chatting with some edgy wannabe, someone cosplaying as the cityās most notorious murderer. But as the conversation progressed, it became clear.
It was him.
He was surprisingly...charming. Flirty, even, in a deranged sort of way. The kind of guy whoād make you laugh one second and send shivers down your spine the next.
So, naturally, you decided to play along. To āslay,ā as they say. You started by reacting to his roles he reacted with:
š Fun ā Crowbar šŖ Sharp Objects 𩸠I love the thrill of the rush š® I have this thing called an ego
You figured that maybe if you showed him the right mix of enthusiasm, heād notice you. The Devil himself would grant you his blessingsāor maybe just the motivation you so desperately needed.
After all, all his crimes... they involve a crowbar.
It was almost too easy to talk to him. His messages were a mix of sarcasm, wit, and razor-sharp insight. But there was an edge to everything he said, a challenge beneath the surface. He asked questions that made your pulse quicken, like he was daring you to prove yourself. To impress him.
Then he upped the ante.
He wanted you to kill someone. Not just theoretically, but for real. To send a picture. Proof. He wanted you to baptize yourself in bloodāor maybe he just wanted to see how far youād go to entertain him.
You laughed it off at first. He had to be joking. Right?
But he wasnāt.
The scary part wasnāt that he asked. It was that you didnāt immediately say no.
The conversations grew darker, deeper. Somewhere along the way, he stopped being just āThe Butcherā and became a person to you. Someone sad. Lonely, even. Beneath the bravado and the bloodlust, there was something broken about him. And damn it if you werenāt the kind of person who thought you could fix people.
Strangely, you started to feel bad for him. He seemed... sad. Not in a pathetic way, but in a way that made you think: Hey, maybe this edgy maniac has layers. You werenāt dumb enough to think you could āfixā him, but maybe, just maybe, you could understand him.
But the thought still lingered.
You joked about plotting his murder. His reply? He blushed. He actually blushed. The idea of you thinking about himāobsessing over himāclearly thrilled him. It was hard to tell if he was serious or just toying with you. Either way, it felt like flirting.
Was it flirting? It was definitely something.
Everything was fine. Well, as fine as it could be when you were chatting with a notorious killer. He hadnāt turned on you. Not yet.
And then the channel appeared.
āartistic-license.ā
The Butcherās tone shifted the moment it opened. Gone was the playful banter, replaced with something cold and calculating. He knew who you were. Knew more than youād ever shared.
āYou can be my muse,ā he said, voice dripping with menace. āAs long as youāre willing to be my victim.ā
Your blood ran cold.
It had been a game to him, all along. A hunt. And now, you werenāt sure if you were the predator or the prey.
Oh, shit.
Maybe it felt like you were in a chokehold, always watched, unable to escape, because your heart already beat only for the server. It wasnāt just obsession; it was survival. Once you left, it felt like your heart stopped altogether. Thatās what kept you tethered, trapped in a conflict with yourself. Afraid of the nightmares. Afraid of him.
Was it the people? Or was it him? The Devil himself, Ronin.
Oh, but you didnāt leave, did you? You stayed. You stayed because every moment away from that server gnawed at you. And even when you closed your eyes, sleep wasnāt an escape. Not from him. Not from the Devil.
The dream was vivid. A whispered laughter danced through your mind, teasing and cold. A crowbar pressed against your neck, its chill seeping into your skin. The man in front of you had a Luciferās smile, a grin both wicked and divine. His eyes held a whisper of flameābright, hot, dangerous. He wasnāt just playing at being the Devil; he embodied it. The Devil himself. Your Devil.
He leaned closer, and his breath was warm against your ear. āWhy fight it, darling?ā he murmured. āYou came here for me. You stayed for me. And youāll never leave⦠for me.ā His voice was honeyed poison, sweet and lethal.
You tried to step back, but the crowbar pressed harder, pinning you in place. His laughter curled around you, low and dark, like smoke from a fire you couldnāt escape.
āOh, youāre scared,ā he said, and his grin widened. āGood. Fear looks so pretty on you.ā
You wanted to scream, to lash out, but you couldnāt. Your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his gaze. He tilted his head, studying you with an almost tender curiosity, as if deciding whether to devour you whole or savor you bite by bite.
āYou know what I love about you?ā he whispered. āYour heart. It beats so fast, so loud, like itās trying to call me closer. And you know whatās funny? Itās mine. Always has been. You just didnāt realize it yet.ā
His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was soft, almost reverent, but it sent a shiver racing down your spine.
āDonāt look so frightened, sweetheart,ā he said, his voice a velvet caress. āYou wanted this. You wanted me.ā
And then, just as quickly as it began, it ended. The crowbar disappeared. The Devil vanished. You woke with a start, gasping for air, your pulse hammering against your ribs. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, terrifying, beautiful dream.
You woke from a dream, if you could even call it that. A whispered laughter echoed in your ears, chilling and intimate, and the ghost of a crowbar lingered against your neck. The man in front of youāhis grin sharp as a blade, his eyes alight with a flicker of Hell itself. He was Lucifer's shadow, Lucifer's whisperāno, not a shadow. The Devil incarnate. The Devil he had to be.
Except⦠you couldnāt shake the feeling that it wasnāt. Not entirely.
You could write. Or you could log in and see what the server was doing. The decision was easy.
You logged in. The server was quiet. No one was online.
Except for him.
Mr. Devil himself.
A notification popped up: Incoming call.
You hesitated, fingers hovering over the mouse. Then, with a resigned sigh, you clicked accept.
The screen flickered, and there he was. Ronināsharp-eyed and grinning like he knew every secret youād ever tried to bury. His voice was a low drawl, smooth and intoxicating.
āHey,ā he greeted, leaning closer to the camera as if trying to bridge the digital gap between you.
āHi,ā you managed, your voice more breathless than you intended. āWhat are you doing up so late?ā
His grin widened. āSame could be said for you, darlinā. Whatās up? Stayinā up late for that midnight inspiration?ā
You hesitated, unsure how to respond. āWhy are you doing this?ā you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly.
Ronin laughed, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. āFucking with writers is my specialty, what can I say?ā His gaze pinned you in place, even through the screen. āI told you, darlinā. You come to me, and I give you whatever the fuck you want. Isnāt this your dream? Iām your wish, come true.ā
His voice dipped lower, each word a dark caress. āAnd youāre fucked, ācause I know exactly who you are, Y/N.ā He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. āDid I mention that I got your IP the second you logged onto the server? Yeah, yeah. Internet safety and all that shit. Donāt talk to strangers, right? āCause you never know who you might come across.ā
Your breath hitched. You couldnāt speak, couldnāt move. His grin turned sharper, almost predatory.
āLost for words?ā he teased, his voice laced with mock sympathy. āI know. Iām so fucking charming.ā
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. āListen up, sweetheart. Iāll be visiting you soon. Crowbar in hand. Unlessā¦ā His eyes gleamed with wicked delight. āUnless you find me first. Happy hunting, baby.ā
The call ended abruptly, leaving you staring at your reflection in the now-black screen. Your mind raced, heart pounding in your chest.
You were in trouble.
Loving the Devil had been your first mistake. Thinking he might actually love you back was your second. And falling for his corruption, his twisted gamesāthat was your third and most damning sin.
Ronin had known exactly what he was doing when he invited you to his server. Heād seen through your persona, found amusement in your attempts to remain aloof. To him, you were a game, a challengeāand he wanted to win. He always did.
Now, there was only one way out. Heād told you himself: you had to find him first. The question was, could you?
It was 14 February.
It was February 14th. Oh, shit. You had dreamtā¦
Of your first love.
Angelwood.
A place you wouldnāt mind setting ablaze, just for the hell of it.
It ruined your life. It scarred you. It made you feel worthless.
Angelwoodāa repressed, self-righteous town drenched in hollow piety.
You wanted to die. Your family had discovered something about you, something that didnāt align with their narrow version of normal. Something unholy, they said.
They went to the Pastor. He declared you a changed person. No, worse. He called you a demon. Because you had dared to correct him.
Didnāt God love everyone? Didnāt He embrace whatever or whoever you were? You screamed those questions into the void of your mind, but no answers ever came. Only shame, only pain.
Standing on the bridge, it felt right. They said that if you died like this, youād go to hell.
To hell with them, then.
But it didnāt happen.
Someone⦠someone stopped you. A bag was thrown over your head, and you were yanked back. Struggling, gasping, you felt their grip tighten. They didnāt remove the bag. They just⦠held you.
āHah, itās those bastards who should be dying,ā a voice whispered, raw and jagged, like shattered glass on pavement. āWhy you, darlinā?ā
The words dripped like honeyed venom into your ear, muffled by the cloth that separated you. Their breath was warm, close. Too close.
Their hands⦠they were slick, coated with something thick and wet. Paint? No. You knew it wasnāt paint. A chill ran down your spine as their grip shifted to your throat, firm yet deliberate.
āIf youāre willing to go to hell by dying, then live. Live to go to hell by committing the mistake they all cursed you for. Be the devil they see you as. Thatās the word of your good olā Beaufort.ā
Beaufort�
You woke up with a start.
Ah.
Your cheeks burned. You had dreamt about them againāthe person who had saved you.
It was because of them that you ran. You left Angelwood, the town that broke you, and you started over. They were right.
They had saved you.
And so, you lived.
Your first love....
After finishing all your daily activities, you logged into the server. Sure, Ronin might have doxxed you, and you might very well be on his victim list. But hey, youāre still alive! For now.
It was Valentineās Day, after all. A day of love and romanceāand apparently, the Devil himself had a touch of sentimentality when he wasnāt actively planning your demise. You logged in, partly to distract yourself and partly to see how Luca and Feli were celebrating. Those two were pure, unadulterated sweetness, even amidst the chaos that surrounded them.
And they didnāt disappoint. Their interactions were as heartwarming as ever. Feli teased Luca; Luca gushed over her, a lovesick puppy in human form. But then, Angel decided to stir the pot.
"How many serial killers are in love, and whoās in the singlesā awareness club?" she asked.
Luca and Feli, of course, remained adorably entangled in their own little world. But then Angel turned her sights on you.
"What about you, @Readerintocrowbars? Anything youād like to share?"
Your heart stuttered. Angelās knack for pushing buttons was unparalleled. You were about to type "single," keeping it simple, when a direct message popped up. It wasnāt from Luca or Feli.
It was from him.
"Go on," Roninās message read, "tell them youāre dancing with the Devil."
The audacity of this man. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your frustration bubbling into something like amusement. There was, after all, a certain poetic irony in loving a man who was actively planning your downfall.
Still, you couldnāt let him win so easily. Could you?
āIām with the Devil,ā you typed proudly.
Roninās response came almost instantly:
āLoud and proud! I like it!ā
Your stomach flipped. Was that pride in his tone? Satisfaction? Maybe both? Before you could analyze it, Angel piped up again, suggesting everyone hop into a call since sheād been too busy with work to catch up properly.
The call was lively, as expected. Luca quoted a line from that infamous movie about talking cars, and the laughter that followed was infectious. Everything felt normalāor as normal as it could, given the company.
Until someone started teasing.
"You and Ronin, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Luca sing-songed, earning a round of snickers.
The laughter erupted again, and your face burned. Tragic? Maybe. A little amusing? Definitely. You couldnāt help but think that Beaufort didnāt save you all those years ago just for this momentāto be teased for flirting with death himself. And yet, here you were, tangled in a devilish game that only seemed to deepen with every passing day.
Narrative Version
The air was thick with tension as Ronin leaned back against the wall, his smirk sharp enough to cut through the silence. His gaze, dark and piercing, settled on his companion, waiting for the game to unfold. The words "Truth or Dare" hung in the air like a challenge.
He grinned, his voice dripping with a dark amusement. "Happy Valentine's, darling. How's your obsession with me going?"
A slow, teasing smile tugged at the corners of their lips as they replied, the words dripping with equal parts sarcasm and intrigue. "As good as good could be."
Ronin chuckled, his eyes glinting. "You're quite the character! But I'm gettin' ahead of myself. Truth or dare?"
They raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar pull of their dynamic. "I thought I got to choose your truths."
"Whoops," Ronin muttered, feigning mock surprise. "Someone hasn't forgotten our little rule-change! You're smart. I'll let ya have at it. What've you got to say, baby?"
They took a breath, then spoke, their voice cool and composed, like they were issuing a challenge. "Truth. What's your tragedy?"
For a moment, Ronin's grin faltered, replaced by something darkerāa flicker of something deep, something raw. He leaned in, his voice lowering as if the words were almost too heavy to bear. "Shit, you want me to do the full villain monologue? Fine, darlin'. We've got all day."
They gave a small, silent nod, knowing this would be something they werenāt going to forget. "So what's the devil got to say?"
Ronin's laugh was a low rumble, a sound that might have been bitter if it werenāt so wrapped in his chaos. "Dunno, whatever the fuck you want. I'm hell outta Angelwood. I stuck the pastor through his cross an' murdered a dozen more. Gone through the cities and danced devilry in 'em too."
Their lips pressed together, skepticism evident in their eyes. "I don't believe it."
His eyes burned with intensity, a mixture of fury and something more vulnerable. "All there is to me, that's all."
The silence that followed was sharp, and then they spoke again, their voice slightly softer. "That's a story, not a tragedy."
A sharp grin twisted his features, cruel and knowing. "Hoped you wouldn't notice."
Ronin straightened, his demeanor shifting, turning colder. "I had... someone... once. They were my... past. My childhood everything." His gaze softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again. "They hated to love me. Dying in it, their fuckin' tragic femininity, perfect girlhood bullshit. An' that was my dream come true. I made myself the devil to... save them."
They watched him closely, feeling the weight of his words settle between them. The pause hung thick in the air as they pressed on. "What happened?"
His voice dropped to a low rasp, like something venomous escaping his lips. "It's a shitty repressed Christ-loving town. What d'you think happened?"
They felt the words cut deeper than they'd intended. "They're gone. And I'm the devil becoming. Nothin' less, nothin' more."
A somber silence passed before they responded softly, "I'm sorry."
Ronin's eyes locked onto theirs, an almost mocking glint dancing in his stare. "Cause it's all your fault. Sure. Say it again and again and we'll save her together. Curse my name three times and rewind time. Clap your hands, call me a devil, let's Faustian bargain this shit out. That's how it fuckin' works."
His hands flexed as if he were toying with the very air around him, the symbols on his body all too real to him. "Oh, my Satanic symbols mean nothin' to ya?"
They tilted their head slightly, unbothered. "Eh, just means you're edgy."
Roninās lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. "I chose it."
Their voice softened, almost pleading, as if they were trying to reach him beyond the facade he wore. "You don't have to... do this."
The air shifted again, and Ronin stood taller, his presence dominating the room. "Pretend you're larger-than-life. Like you're... the devil you are."
"And that's the rub," he muttered, a dark edge creeping into his words. "The devil I am. An' you can't deny it, can ya? That's who I am."
He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "What d'you think, darling? Is it tragic enough for you?" His tone was an almost mockingly sweet whisper as if daring them to say otherwise.
RONIN leaned back, his smirk fading into something softer, something almost vulnerable. "So," he drawled, breaking the silence, "what do you think? Tragic enough for ya?"
You hesitated, your gaze fixed on him. "Itās true," you finally admitted, your voice quieter now. "Itās⦠tragic."
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you hung heavy, thick with shared secrets and the weight of things unsaid. Finally, you broke the silence. "What if I told you," you began cautiously, "that Iāve had my own sad experiences with Angelwood?"
RONINās eyes snapped to yours, surprise flickering across his face. "Angelwood? You⦠youāre from there too?" His expression was a mixture of shock and curiosity, like he was piecing together a puzzle he didnāt know existed. "What, did the town call you a devil too?"
A bitter laugh escaped you. "Something like that," you admitted. "I⦠didnāt realize you were from the same shitty town. That explains a lot." You paused, glancing down as memories threatened to resurface. "Thatās why Iāve always hated Christmas," you added, almost as an afterthought.
At that, RONIN looked away, his jaw tightening. His fingers drummed against his knee, a restless rhythm betraying his discomfort. The vulnerability from earlier was back, tugging at the edges of his devil-may-care facade.
You studied him for a moment before speaking again. "From the looks of it," you said carefully, "you mustāve had⦠someone. A past lover, maybe? Thatās who⦠Ther⦠that person was, wasnāt it?"
His reaction was immediate and tellingāa sharp intake of breath, a brief clench of his fists. He didnāt deny it, but he didnāt confirm it either. Instead, he looked away, refusing to meet your eyes.
Something stirred in the back of your mind, a fragment of a memory that had been buried for years. "Now that I think about it," you murmured, almost to yourself, "it sounds familiar. I mightāve noticed them once."
RONINās head turned slightly at that, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might say something, but the words never came. And just like that, the fragile thread connecting you both was severed, the silence between you growing heavier with every passing second.
Neither of you said anything after that. Maybe it was better this way, leaving the past untouched, the wounds unspoken.
You paused, your gaze flickering down to your hands, fingers tapping restlessly against the cold surface. The moment felt strange, like the silence between you and Ronin was both too heavy and too light, like it was waiting for something deeper to unfold.
You took a deep breath before speaking again, voice softer now, a tremor beneath your words. "My past... it's true. There was a pastorāsomeone my family trusted completely. They didnāt see me for what I was. Instead, they took me to him, believing I was... possessed. That something inside me made me broken, that I wasnāt just going through problems. They thought a demon caught me."
Your laugh was bitter, hollow. "They didnāt get that I wasnāt crazy. But the pastor? He told them I was. That I was the devil himself. And my familyāmy own flesh and bloodāthey believed him. They stopped seeing me as , their child. They saw a demon. They called me that, said I didnāt deserve to live. That I was better off dead."
The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and raw. You swallowed hard, shaking your head as if trying to shake off the memories. "So, I thought about it. Thought about ending it before... before they could."
You sat back, the weight of your own past pressing down on you as you began to speak, your voice raw but steady. "It's true," you said softly, looking away for a moment as the memories started to unravel. "The pastor, the one my family trusted... he took me there. Instead of getting me the help I needed, he... he decided I was possessed. That I was some demon, not a person who just had problems."
A bitter laugh escaped you, but it quickly died in the air. "They believed him, you know? My own family... They didnāt see me. They saw what he said, believed every word of it. 'The devil's child,' they called me." You paused, feeling the heaviness of it all. "They told me I didnāt deserve to live. And in the end, I almost believed them."
RONINās eyes narrowed, studying you closely, but he didnāt interrupt. There was something in his gaze, something that almost looked like recognition.
You closed your eyes, gathering your thoughts. "Before I could do itābefore I could end it all... someone saved me. They didnāt show themselves, just a shadow. Covered in blood, but they didnāt hurt me. They... they spoke to me, offered advice. Told me that I wasnāt broken. That there was something more. Something that could keep me going."
The memory felt like a whisper in your mind, fading in and out, but the core of it remained. "Thatās what I am now. Thatās why Iām always so... adamant. Sticking to this point, this dynamic. Iām not the devil they wanted me to be. Iām someone else."
You turned your gaze back to Ronin, your voice taking on a different edge, almost teasing. "And thatās what I see between us. Youāre always saying things like, 'Die for me, kill me like a loverboy would, carve out your aorta and serve it on a silver platter.' Itās your trademark. Your little game. But Iāve got something else in mind."
The air shifted as you leaned in slightly, eyes locking with his, your voice lowering. "What if I said, 'Live for me, thrive in this hellscape with me. May death do us part.'"
For a moment, it felt like you were the one pulling the strings, the roles shifting. You grinned, watching Roninās expression flicker with something... amused, almost intrigued. "We play our little game, donāt we? Witty banter, dangerous charm, back and forth, like some twisted dance. But, maybe⦠maybe this time, we dance a different tune."
You chuckled softly, leaning back, your smile lingering. "Itās cute, isnāt it? The way we both cling to these dynamics, testing each other. How cute you and I are together... this twisted little connection weāve built. You're someone who finds death hot. I find living hot."
You could feel Roninās eyes on you, the tension between you both shifting again, but now with a certain understandingāa kind of recognition of the game that was always being played, the layers of darkness you both wore like masks.
"So you should totally let me live." You said with a wink.
"Haha, No Darling, Sorry."
"It was..worth a shot you know.."
RONIN chuckled darkly, the sound rich with mockery. "Live for me, thrive in this hellscape," he mimicked, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as he leaned forward. "Oh, how cute. You really think youāre the opposite of me? You think that makes you better? That somehow, you can survive all this... this mess weāre in and I can't?"
His eyes glinted with amusement as he continued, the taunt hanging in the air, sharp and biting. "Well, sweetheart, keep thinking that. But the truth is," his smile stretched wider, almost too wide, as if savoring the irony. "We're both just as fucked up. And you know it."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing with that familiar calculating gaze. "Anyway," he muttered, almost to himself, before focusing back on you, "Truth or dare, darling?"
You raised an eyebrow, unsure if you were ready for another one of his mind games. "Truth."
He didnāt hesitate, his eyes gleaming with sudden interest. "Alright then," he began, voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Whatās the name of the person who made you want to live? Who saved you from... yourself?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. You stared at him for a beat, the answer already clear in your mind, but somehow, saying it out loud felt different.
"Beaufort," you replied softly, the name slipping from your lips like it had always belonged there.
RONINās eyes widened, a flicker of something dark crossing his featuresāsurprise, recognition, maybe even a twinge of jealousy. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same cool indifference he always wore.
He remained silent for a moment, studying you like he was trying to figure out something about you he hadnāt seen before. The tension was palpable, the space between you both electric with unspoken thoughts.
Finally, a slow, almost predatory smile spread across his face. "So," he said, voice low, dangerous, "you already know the answer, donāt you? You already know."
Your eyes narrowed, confused but intrigued. "What do you mean?" you asked, leaning forward just a little, trying to read him. "What answer?"
He didnāt respond immediately, instead just smiling like he held some private victory. The silence stretched, and you couldnāt shake the feeling that he was toying with you.
You couldnāt take it anymore. "Truth," you said again, a playful edge to your voice despite the growing tension. "I want to hear your name."
RONINās grin grew wider, sharper, and he leaned closer to the screen. His gaze was now fixed on you, a glint of something dangerous dancing in his eyes. "You want my name, huh?" he asked softly, voice almost too smooth. "Youāll hear it. In your dreams, darling."
He paused, letting the words sink in, watching you carefully. "Iāll whisper it to you, if you really want to know. But... I think youāll hear it soon enough. Youāll dream about it already, wonāt you?"
Before you could respond, he cut the call abruptly, leaving the silence hanging in the air, thick with unanswered questions and the promise of something far darker.
You quickly reconnect the call, the screen flickering before Roninās face fills the frame again, his expression a mix of amusement and that ever-present darkness in his eyes. He leans back, his tongue lazily brushing over his lips as he smirks.
"Back again?" he drawls, voice dripping with mock curiosity. "What is it, darling? Got something more to say? Whatās left to talk about?"
You meet his gaze, steady and unwavering. "I understand what you meant earlier," you say, your voice a little more serious this time, though thereās still a playful edge to it. "You wonāt tell me your name. I have to figure it out myself, right?"
RONINās smirk widens, his tongue poking out as he nods slowly. "Exactly, babe. Thatās the fun of it. You gotta solve the puzzle. Donāt expect me to make it easy for you."
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "I get it," you say, then pause for a beat, leaning a little closer to the camera. "But, I have a request. Will the devil hear it?"
He raises an eyebrow, intrigued, yet a bit amused. "A request, huh? What do you want, darling? Ask away."
You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking. "Iāve always celebrated with my crush... whoever it may be. And honestly, whether I die tomorrow or not, I want to spend the time I have left with someone I like. Iāve chosen you, Ronin. Even if you want to kill me... I want to live with you. So, what do you say?"
You pause for a moment, watching him, then slowly extend your hand toward the camera, your fingers trembling just slightly. "Will you be my date? My love... until our time comes? Even before you kill me?"
RONINās eyes flicker with somethingāsurprise? Maybe a little satisfaction? His lips twitch as he watches you, and for a second, you canāt tell if heās going to laugh or sneer.
He chuckles softly, the sound low and dark, yet there's a genuine edge to it that almost sounds like... admiration. "Youāre something else, arenāt you?" he mutters, his gaze flicking away from the camera for a moment, his fingers twitching as if heās considering something.
"You really think a little thing like death is gonna stop us?" he asks, his voice almost contemplative now, his usual bravado slipping just slightly. "Youāre not scared of me, are you?"
You don't flinch, keeping your hand out, your voice steady despite the tension. "No. Iām not scared. I want to be with you."
Thereās a long silence, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. But then, his eyes meet yours again, and his grin spreads slowly, like a snake ready to strike.
"Fine," he says, his voice quieter, almost sincere, though still laced with that dangerous edge. "Yes. Iāll be your date... until the time comes. Itās cute, really, how you keep pushing me. But letās see how long that lasts."
He looks away briefly, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a smile, though his eyes remain distant, almost lost in thought.
"Guess I kinda wanted to say yes, anyway," he mutters under his breath, but you hear it. You catch the shift in his toneājust enough to know that maybe, just maybe, heās not as indifferent as he lets on.
With that...You spent your last love-day they say, With the man who wants to kill you and carve out your aorta.
So pretty.
this is just part 1! ill do part 2 soon!
AHHHHHSJDJDJJFND OMGOMGOMGOMG THANKYOUSOMUCH IT'S INCREDIBLE WKNDJDJDJJD GUYS CHECK THE FIC OUT PLS I BEG YOU, IT DESERVES MORE THAN I COULD PUT INTO WORDS RN, LUV YA ELLIE š«¶

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Here ya go Ellie sweetie Happy Birthday <3
(GO GREET @elysiaheaven2 | @elysiaheaven A HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHE DESERVES IT !)
(luv her oc btw take ur time to admire her she looks ethereal, oh and then there's ronin)
(Akemi Noroi x Ronin from Killer Chat!)
"Ronin, do you ever get tired?"
(when it comes to you? he doesn't)
šŖ WIN A COPY OF āA KILLER CHAT! CHRISTMASā! š©·
āMerry fāing Christmas, losers!ā
To celebrate this holiday season, we are giving one lucky player a copy of our new festive addition to the Killer Chat! series, "A Killer Chat! Christmas"!
What do I win?
A digital copy of āA Killer Chat! Christmasā, which will be released on the 30th of December! More info written about the DLC here!Ā
What do I do?
FOLLOW our angelrot Twitter/X, Bluesky, Instagram, Tiktok and/or rosesrotās tumblr.
LIKE and REPOST our social media posts about the competition.
Take a SCREENSHOT of your KC! Definitive Edition Wishlist on steam to help support future KC! content.
SUBMIT all necessary information in the giveaway form!
Deadline: 29th of December at 11:59pm GMT.
We will inform the winner before the game launch on 30th of December - if you havenāt heard by then you are safe to purchase the game!
Other important notes:Ā
You may enter on any number of social media platforms. Each social media post you complete the requirements for will gain you one individual entry (only one social media is required to enter).
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If you have any questions please feel free to DM us on our social accounts or on our discord.
āļø Happy Holidays everyone! āļø
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hehe hii
A small ask from a small writer (ā ą¹ā ā¢ā ļ¹ā ā¢ā )
Hey!
So, I know that this might be too greedy on my part but.... Guys I really need someone to commission me right now,.my biggest dream is to afford a binder and with how my expenses rn look I can't afford it right now. So if any of you felt like they would like to give a small writer a gift you can enter my Kofi through the link in my bio and check out my prices there, then you can leave me a message here or in my discord dms (@slay__ryu), I know that I must look greedy now but I really want to bind myself.
Ofc you're not obligated to pay me it's all fine I just want it to reach someone who really wants to waste their money for a reason, but even without the binding part I still accept comms!
Anyway, I'll try to drop a fic today or tomorrow ^^
See you folks
- N š«
let's show some love for our writers š«¶
It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?
a continuation of the 'bad ending', if you will

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
...and you were just getting to the good part, oh well, you've seen enough anyways
grayscale ronin because (quality's better if you zoom in)