Basically a continuation of offering to spend Christmas with ronin in the dlc! Credits to rosesrot for the first two lines of dialogue (from the dlc). First time writing one of these sorry if it sucks </3
"I can't fix it but... If you want we can spend it together? I'll be here and we can just... talk, hang out, game, whatever you want. Help you through today. Does that sound good?"
"Yeah... Guess that's better than murdering godforsaken parents out there. You're... heh... you're a rotten saint. I appreciate it."
You shut your laptop like youโre closing the coffin on your responsibilities, bag slung over your shoulder, the apartment door creaking closed behind you like a final breath. It's cold out, not enough to bite, but enough to make you feel something. Christmas, of all days. And for once, itโs not bitter. Youโre walking the path to Roninโs place, a slow, familiar trail. Phone out, map open, not because you need it but because your fingers are too restless to stay still.
This is your first Christmas with him. Your first time calling him yours in December, Christmas.
Roninโs house is a strange little den of sins and warmth, contradiction etched into every wall. You donโt knock. Would feel too formal for the devil youโve chosen to love. Instead, you creep to the window, peer in โ and there they are: those stupid little red horns peeking above the couch. A twisted halo for the man who once swore heโd never celebrate a holiday again.
You slip through the window, quiet, not sneaky. He turns his head, smile slicing across his face like a knife carving joy.
โSaint Nick, that you?โ he grins, a devil dressed in mockery.
โMerry Christmas, loser,โ you say, just before tackling him into a hug like you hadnโt been starving for it the whole damn week. His arms close around you like iron chains. Itโs been weeks since youโve touched him, busy drowning in half-written stories and deadlines that donโt care youโve got a heart. He breathes out into the crook of your neck, and the world stills.
You glance around, the same clutter, the same ungodly symbols scratched into the corners. There's more of them now. Itโs his way of surviving the season, probably. Drawing sigils instead of slashing parents. But thatโs why youโre here. Youโre the talisman this year.
Before your thoughts can crawl too far, Ronin scoops you up like you weigh nothing, deposits you on his bed, and looks through his stack of VHS tapes.
โWanna watch somethinโ?โ he asks, the corner of his mouth curled up in a smile.
Theyโre all horror. Of course they are. Slashers, hauntings, twisted little films with too much blood and not enough plot, his idea of romance. You nod, because you love that part of him. The grotesque. The familiar.
You close your eyes for a moment, but open them again when you feel him crawling toward you, jacket off, expression soft in the low red light. He straddles you, arms on either side, hovering like a question.
Then he pulls something from his pocket.
โFound it,โ he says, trying to hide the smile. Dangles the mistletoe above your head like itโs a weapon. โMisaki said this plantโs got kissing powers or somethinโ. We oughta test it.โ
You blink. โUgh. Guess I owe you a kiss, then. What a tragedy.โ
He leans in. Stops just shy of your lips. Breath warm. Voice lower. โPretty,โ he murmurs, and you forget how to inhale.
His hand slides to your jaw, firm, and then his lips meet yours like a slow exorcism. Desperate. Familiar. Thereโs a hunger in him that didnโt exist in spring, a softness laced with too many broken things. The kiss deepens, jaw tilting, hands gripping, and then he breaks away to mouth at your neck. Kisses, bites, teeth scraping skin like he wants to leave a map of himself behind.
You laugh, breathless. โRoโhey! That tickles!โ
He grins into your throat. โThanks for coming by. Havenโt not killed someone on Christmas in...well. Itโs been a bit.โ
He presses a kiss to your forehead, voice suddenly quieter. โStill. You here. In my hellhole. Warms the heart, if I had one.โ He flops beside you, hand brushing yours. โYou takinโ care of yourself?โ
โTrying,โ you reply, rolling onto your side. His fingers trace your face, nose to lips, slow and thoughtful. No smirk. Just him, raw, honest, a little haunted.
Heโs clingy tonight. But you get it. Decemberโs cruel. Especially to men like him.
โI knew you missed me,โ you tease.
โShut up, darlin'.โ He shifts closer, buries himself against you like he could disappear inside your skin. One leg hooked over yours, arms curling around your torso. You breathe in: citrus, iron, gasoline โ Ronin. Your fingers card through his hair, and he exhales, moving his hands under your shirt.
The TV flickers, painting him in pale light. He looks unreal. Beautiful in the way fire looks beautiful, right before it devours.
Itโs mad, isnโt it? A year ago you were barely surviving his death threats. Now youโre surviving each other.
But thisโthis is different. This is sacred.
Your shirtโs ridden up. His fingers skim your waist, light and exploratory. Your breath stutters. He notices. Of course he notices. Heโs a predator before heโs a boyfriend.
His hand drifts up, slow, thumb grazing below your ribs. You stop breathing. He hovers again, that same question in his eyes.
And then heโs kissing you again, fierce now, greedy, like heโs afraid youโll vanish. Like youโre a ghost and heโs never believed in the afterlife.
He pulls back, just enough to look.
You're laying there, flushed, hair a mess, neck covered in marks.
His face shifts. Something like reverence, or horror? Like loving you might actually be the thing that kills him. He kisses you again, hard.
Your phone vibrates. A message from your agent.
You groan. Reality, that miserable beast.
Ronin chuckles darkly. โCanโt catch a break, huh, sweetheart?โ
โNo, no, donโt worry. Iโm here for you, remember?โ you say, brushing the notification away.
He scowls. Ruffles your hair. โTch. You beinโ here doesnโt mean you gotta bleed out for me, babe. Iโm your fuckinโ boyfriend. I do love you a li, yโknow.โ
You raise an eyebrow. โA little?โ
โDonโt push your luck.โ
He hops up, grabs his old Gameboy like itโs a sacred relic. โWanna play?โ
You sit up, grin spreading. โHell yeah.โ
โYouโre already in hell, darling,โ he says, that devilโs smile back on his lips.
And you are. But itโs warm here. And the devilโs arms are wide open.
