#kc x reader

You frequently prided yourself on the shiny condition of your bike. It was your baby, the thing you poured a lot of your disposable income into. You cared a lot about it.

What would you do if you couldn’t risk your life going 150 on a 80 highway, after all?

It wasn’t murder, but baby steps!

The care and time you lovingly poured into its condition was the same reason you screamed so loud when you left the dorm building and found the back of it battered.

Some asshat had decided to do donuts in the parking lot while drunk, if the note half assed and stuck on the back with a bit of chewed gum was anything to go off of. But you knew that lamenting over the fury of a busted bike would do nothing.

So you scraped off the gum and drove it to the closest garage that was open at six thirty in the morning, the thick downpour of rain not helping to ease your mood.

The motorcycle lulled as you pulled it into a slow break, back wheels screeching ever so slightly at the curve of movement.

The garage was simple, grey floors and white walls, a few cars being tinkered with and an overly strong smell of bleach, paint and… iron?

You pulled off your helmet, raking a hand through your hair, forcing it to bounce back to something semi presentable, and adjusted your shirt. You waved down a mechanic without particularly looking at who was coming, far too busy scowling at the dent.

You mean, really. Who would ruin such a nice coat of paint on such nice plating.

The steady sound of footfall got closer, and you crouch down to run your fingers along the indentation. “Nasty mark, I know. Can I get a quote on fixing it?” You murmur and peeled off your jacket, wrapping it around your waist with care- real leather should be taken care of.

The smell of bleach and iron got stronger, almost drowning out the paint with the added scent of grease. It smelt sharp.

“Aww, and here I thought you were here to see ya favorite mechanic.” The worker audibly pouted.

Knowing that voice, you thought, that pout would be the single most sarcastic thing he’d see all week.

You launched yourself around, legs tangling beneath you where you were still crouching, and you fell straight on your ass.

Ronin. The butcher. God’s least favorite freak, and Satan’s favorite representative.

He barked out a laugh, one hand resting in his jackets pocket with the other splayed out as an offering of help. “That excited to see me, darlin’?”

“Ronin.” you spat, knocking his hand out the way to scramble up yourself. “You work here? This is the single most unfortunate turn of events possible.”

You looked Ronin up and down, mentally taking a note of how terrifying he’d be in his alley- and how hot he’d be covered in blood.

“Well my alleys not too far, is it? Only makes sense I’d be close by, wouldn’t wanna travel too far.” Ronin grinned, hand still dangling awkwardly to the side. His eyes flickered down to it briefly, “And here I thought my favorite writer was all obsessed with me… ya breakin’ my heart.”

You grimace, hands previously at your side falling back to lean against your bike. “God I hope it kills you.” you groan. “Can you just… you know? Help me with my bike?”

“Well that’s my job darlin’, and I know a pretty little way you can pay for it.” Ronin leaned forward, still smirking as your personal space became his..

You pushed him away by the shoulders, briefly wondering if you were touching a jacket that was splattered with blood the night prior. “I’ve told you before, you need more creative threats. You’re not taking my heart for my bike. I’ll pay you with cash.” you retort flatly, rolling his eyes at the overdramaticised attempt at ‘hurt’ Ronin was trying to display.

Ronin continued to grin, the smile not faltering once, “Oh darlin’ I wasn’t talkin ‘bout that.”

His eyes shifted down, lingering on your lips. “I was thinkin’ something a little more… temporary. If I took your heart now, well that woulda cut our little game short.”

He shifted closer again, head so close your foreheads were almost touching. You could feel the heat of his skin. His eyes were dark, like an endless void. He stared, unwavering and smirking. Maybe you were insane, or maybe it really was attractive. Either way you were too far gone to care.

You were a rational person, and Ronin was one of his word. He said he’d cut out a heart and dedicate it to you, he did. He said he’d ruin your life, well he already had in some way. It was intoxicating, the truth and nothing but it being used in such a sharp edged way. You relished the way it dug into the skin covering your ribs, getting ever closer to breaking through and sliding through bones to your heart.

But if Ronin said he’d accept it as payment, he would. And who would you be to turn down a kiss from the hottest man you've seen in a long time, and a free bike repair. The pros outweighed the cons, even if the con was the fact you were about to kiss the man you were almost sure would kill you.

Surprisingly, Ronin wasn’t the one to close the distance. You leaned forward, tilting your head slightly to press three short kisses on his mouth.

Ronin was going to kill you.

Ronin laughed, mouths still lingering against each other as he snaked a hand into your hair, palm pressed flat against the back of your head as he tugged you closer and closer till your teeth clacked and you were chewing at each other's lips.

It was uncertain who bled first, but the taste of iron mixed its way into the kiss either way.

A phone buzzed a minute later, far louder than expected, and you jumped backwards with a pant.

“Tease.” Ronin breathed out, the bottom of his hand coming up to wipe at his lips, skin coming away with blood of his own for once.

You fumbled with your jacket pocket, the phone awkwardly at your knees from where it was around your waist, and you yanked it out after a few failed attempts.

Where are you? It’s been too long. You’ll be late to your lecture.

Your roommate, ever the lovely person, cared enough to remind you.

“I need to go.” you sighed, sliding the phone back into your pocket. “I trust my darling devil will take care of the bill?”

“I’m a man of my word, baby.” He shrugged, moving to take a better look at the damage. “And you fulfilled your end of the deal, maybe a little too well… Come back tonight and it’ll be just as pretty as you.”

first time it happens is completely unintentional.

You're out, and someone catcalls you. You ignore them, keep walking, already feeling sensitive and nervous, but then you notice that they've started following you.

First port of call was to freak out and walk faster, but that didn't work, they just kept up.

And then they started to inch closer and thats when you got scared.

Your instincts kicked in and you found yourself wandering to an alleyway, leading the stranger to somewhere dark and secluded

To be honest, you weren't really thinking, but Ronin seems to have rubbed off on you.

Next thing you know, you're covered in blood, and a mangled mess of guts and bones and sinew and flesh is at your feet, and you are terrified.

your whole body is shaking, words have dissapeared, but your automatic response it to call Ronin.

He picks up after the first ring.

"What's up darlin? You miss me so much you couldn't wait another twenty minutes to see me?"

All he gets in reply is your shaky breaths and panicked attempt at words, more gibberish than actual communication.

He knows that there's something really wrong, and he's quick to try to calm you down even though your distress always triggers his own panic.

Before you know it, Ronin's standing at the alley entrance, shadow cast over you and the dead body (if it can even be called that anymore). And then he starts cackling.

"Shit darlin, didn't think to invite me?"

Nonetheless, his arms are wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground where you're kneeling, curled up in the gore.

Ronin's rocking you, holding you tight against his chest as you sob

"I know, I know, it's okay darlin, it's okay."

He sets you down in a clean spot when you've calmed a little, and starts to clean up the mess.

As much as possible is done, while you watch, but don't really watch, you're more staring into the void, everything feels floaty and not real, you can't process anything, you don't notice when Ronin stops doing things, don't notice when he comes back up to you

The rest of the night passes in a blur.

Ronin walks you back to his place and cleans you up, makes sure you eat, and sends you to bed before dissappearing with wipes, gloves, his mask and his crowbar all stashed into a bag.

You don't think about it, all you did was sleep.

When you wake in the morning, Ronin is beside you again, curled around you protectively.

As insane and cruel as Ronin may seem, he can tell that the metaphorical blood on your hands is too sensative of a topic to bring up, so he waits for you instead.

You don't talk about it.

It's two weeks later when you see a man harrassing someone, and you pull them out, hurrying them away.

You guide them through the streets, fully aware of the man following you at a distance, but you're confident this time.

The two of you duck down an alleyway, and you talk to them quietly.

"He's going to come in here, and when I've got him, run, don't turn back, don't call for help for me, I'll be fine, just get somewhere safe, and forget this ever happened."

They nod, eyes wide, but they don't look like they're going to get you caught.

The second the man stalks into the alley, you let him think he can pin you agains the wall, before ducking out and pushing him to the ground.

The person you helped runs, and you find yourself uncontrollably grinning, laughing at the man's terror as he trembles beneath you.

He's quivering, begging you to stop, to forgive him, saying he'll never do it again, he'll stay away.

You know a liar when you see one.

This time you remember.

You remember the feeling of muscles tearing, organs squishing under your fingertips, the solid cartlidge of the oesophagus, the satisfying crack when the ribs finally snap.

Ronin's words echo in your mind as you tear the heart from the mans chest, still pulsing, though it grows slower and slower until it stops.

He screams when you pull him apart, but you couldn't care less, maybe he'll understand how he made others feel now.

You doubt it.

Blood, cold and sticky, pools beneath you when it is done.

The only thought running through your mind is I need to show Ronin.

So you call him.

blood streaks across your screen as you pull up his contact, giggling maniacally as it rings.

"Hey there darlin, need something?"

You're still laughing, the sound bubbles out of you, outside of your control, and he knows.

"You make something for me? Wanna show me or just need help cleaning it up?"

"Both."

You can practically hear him smirking on the other end as he snorts.

"Alright doll, I'll be there in five. Don't you go getting caught on me."

Post murder chaos for you as well >:3

"God, you make such a mess."

Ronin's constantly groaning and complaining.

He's suggested several times now that you just take your victims to his alleyway, to which you've huffed and told him absolutely not.

To be fair, your bodies always end up in Purgatory no matter where they're killed, which is the main reason Ro keeps complaining. He'd much rather not keep on having to carry dead bodies (Or masterpieces as you call them) across the city.

"You're one to talk, guts all over the walls, pentagrams made of bones and limbs. This is nothing."

"I don't have to drag my messes all over the place."

Ronin pokes you in the shoulder and rolls his eyes before returning to the task of folding your newest victim up into a duffel bag while you scrub at the blood and collect bits of human that Ronin missed.

"Hey! It's a spur of the moment thing! You know that people would freak before I could get them to Purgatory!"

He shrugs, "I still manage to get people there."

"Well good for you. I'm not venturing across the city to get my victims to Purgatory when I'm just trying to get home!"

"You say that like we're not going to end up going there anyway."

You flip him off as he laughs.

"Keep being snarky and you'll be the next one going in the bag."

"Oooooo keep talking dirty darlin~"

You shove him and groan before stomping out of the alley, "You can fuck right off and deal with the body yourself then! I'm going home."

There's a long pause in which you've made it a good portion of the way down the street before you hear Ronin shout, "Hang on! This is your body! Come back here!"

this was actually so much fun, and i really enjoyed making it!

tysm for the request!!!!

sorry it wasn't a proper fic as such, but i hope you liked it nonetheless

<333

Ronin

The only reason he didn't kill you was because you surprised him. He already knew you were a writer but thought you would pretend in order to survive, but instead you admitted your true identity and spoke to them as if nothing was wrong.

He couldn't stop laughing every time you told him a new stupid anecdote about another near-death or unlucky experience. He was also somewhat worried about every situation that put you in danger, but very amused by the silly anecdotes that prevented you from continuing with your fanfics/stories for weeks or even months.

For some reason, he noticed that you were safer with him around, even if you often had dates in dangerous places or clearly strange and reckless dates. Things like that never happened to you near him but when you were alone, completely strange things happened to you.

When he asked you about your anecdotes, you pulled out your list and he didn't know whether to laugh or scold you because you literally pulled out a list that reached the floor. "What are you? Santa Claus and his list of gifts to deliver?". He was clearly going to make fun of you.

Angel

You're genuinely going to kill her. Ever since she met you and became fond of you, her anxiety has been through the roof. She swears that one day you're going to give her a heart attack.

At first she thought they were jokes or isolated situations and that you would be okay, but then you started telling more things and she was really worried. I mean, she laughed at silly things like your computer not turning on just because but experiences like a tree almost falling on your head or almost being struck by lightning are things that really worry Angel.

When you pulled out the list of anecdotes, Angel swore she was going to have a heart attack right there. You saw how pale she turned.

"I'm not your guardian angel, you know? I mean, I'm an angel, but I won't be there to save you."- She told you one day when you went on a date and you told her how on the way to the date a car almost ran you over but swerved and crashed into a wall.

Misaki

They have the same luck as you and they aren't even writer. When you two get together it's like the prophecy of the end of the world begins.

No one on the server knows how you and Misaki are still alive after so many things. Ronin laughs at you two, Angel constantly asks if you're okay and even V, who doesn't seem to care, has considered hiring someone to take care of you and Misaki.

"Look! You can update on my old computer!" - Misaki offered you, but it started to catch fire right there in front of you.

Fortunately, that luck stops when Misaki works, but it doesn't stop for you. You've reached a point where so many things have prevented you from writing that you even started updating your stories using one of Misaki's oldest cell phones... And it stopped turning on shortly after you updated.

When you pulled out the list of anecdotes, Misaki was genuinely worried but thought you could write good stories by drawing inspiration from your experiences.

V

He's honestly very worried all the time and he's constantly texting you to see if you're okay.

He has paid for your computer repair several times and at some point, he better buy you a new one. He doesn't even know how it is possible that so many things happen to you.

You've considered paying someone to take care of you even though you don't know if that will stop your bad luck. It seems that fortunately nothing happens to you when you are with him and that makes you want to spend more time with him.

When you took out your list of anecdotes V I was worried and didn't know whether to scold you or what to do. You were laughing while you told each one and he definitely wasn't laughing