know my creativity has no limits, mortal đŤś
Ronin x reader who is a cannibal but hid it from everyone including Ronin đ¤
PROMPT : SICKENING SWEETNESS
TRIGGER WARNING : Graphic Violence, Gore, Murder, Obsession, Manipulation, Death, Cannibal Themes, Dark Themes
CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!
SUMMARY : You were the sweetest person ever, How did you end up with Ronin, Maybe it takes a mess to understand a mess... Ronin walks in, when you're chewing the shiny bone.
HOW DELIGHTFULLY SWEET YOU ARE:
You're the very essence of sweetnessâlike a burst of sunshine and a cloud of warmth all in one. A heart dipped in honey, every word you utter feels like itâs been dusted with sugar, and your presence is as comforting as the softest blanket. You exude an undeniable charm, effortlessly weaving love and kindness into every moment. Youâre a living, breathing masterpiece of warmth, kindness, and beauty, and if sweetness were a currency, you'd be the wealthiest person alive.
Someone as pure and gentle as you⌠itâs almost unreal that youâd end up with Ronin Beaufort. But here you are, in his world, where sweetness meets chaos. How perfectly twisted, don't you think?
Being in a relationship with Ronin? Itâs something you never couldâve predicted. You walked in with the belief that he would never captivate youâhow could he? His whole aura screamed danger, chaos, and unpredictability. He wasnât the type to get under anyoneâs skin. He was the one who did the damage. You were too kind, too soft, too⌠sweet for someone like him.
But then, little by little, something shifted. You started seeing the cracks in that devilish mask, and underneath, you found a deeper, more complicated person than anyone ever expected. His flirtations became a twisted kind of affection, his threats, strangely, a form of intimacy. And somewhere, somehow, without even realizing it, you fell into his worldâhis chaotic, dark, yet strangely magnetic world.
The more you fought him, the more you were drawn in. He pushed you to your limits, but in doing so, he peeled back layers of yourself you never knew existed. And when you realized itâwhen you understood how far you'd fallenâit was almost like a sick joke. You? Falling for someone like him?
But here you are, tangled in his grip, willingly wrapped in the chaos and the thrill of his twisted love. Itâs dangerous, yes. But thereâs no denying it: you wouldnât have it any other way.
u. The table before you was set with a single plate, a fork, and a knifeâneatly arranged, as if this were some normal, respectable meal. But it wasnât.
You sighed, staring at the piece of meat on your plate. Cooked to perfection, slightly charred at the edges, seared just enough to lock in the juices. The smell was rich, mouthwatering. You hated that part the mostâthe fact that it smelled good. That it tasted even better. That despite every ounce of shame that sat heavy in your chest, despite every promise you made to yourself that this is the last time, you knew deep down... it wouldnât be.
Your fingers gripped the fork tightly, pressing the prongs into the tender flesh. You could hear it now, Roninâs voice in your head, laughing, teasing:
"Really, sweetheart? All that sugar and spice, and this is your dirty little secret?"
No. No, no, no. He could never know.
Your serial killer friends didnât even know. Which, honestly, was insane. They knew you were no saint, sure. You had your fun. But they all thought you were just⌠well, a little bloodthirsty, maybe. A sweet little thing with a bite, a killer, sure, but not like this. No one could ever know.
You sliced into the meat with practiced ease, lifting a piece to your lips, hesitating for just a moment.
You popped it into your mouth.
Goddamn it, why was it so good?!
Your head hit the table with a dramatic thud, groaning into the wood as the taste flooded your senses. You hated this. You hated yourself for loving it. The texture, the richness, the way it melted just right on your tongueâlike the best cut of steak youâd ever had. And the worst part? The worst, absolute worst part?
You knew exactly who this was.
You sat up, chewing slowly, staring at the remains on your plate.
"Sorry, Pastor Jim," you muttered around your bite. "You really shouldâve stopped touching choir boys."
You stabbed another piece, eating with a little less guilt.
Because technically, you were still keeping to your moral code, right? You only went after the worst of the worst. And itâs not like you meant to start eating them! That had been an accident! A very unfortunate accident involving a freezer, a power outage, and a very poor sense of food preservation. But after that first taste? Yeah. Yeah, it became a problem.
You shoveled another bite into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Ronin would never let you live this down if he found out.
Oh, heâd love the murder partâheâd practically applaud you for it. Maybe even invite you on one of his little outings. But this? This would be his golden ticket to bullying you for eternity. Heâd never shut up about it. You could already hear him.
"Oh, doll, you mean to tell me all this time youâve been lookinâ at me like a snack, you meant it literally?"
You dropped your fork and groaned again. No. Nope. That was nightmare fuel.
You reached for a napkin, dabbing your lips as if you hadnât just committed an unforgivable sin. The plate was almost clean now, the evidence disappearing bite by bite. As much as you hated yourself for it, at least it was practical. Waste not, want not, right?
Still. You needed to get out of this habit before you really fucked up. Youâd been careful, so insanely careful, but all it took was one slip-up, one little mistake, and suddenly youâd go from âmysterious and deadlyâ to âliteral horror movie monster.â
You sighed, pushing your plate away, feeling full but entirely unsatisfied. The guilt was still there, coiling like a snake in your gut, whispering, This isnât normal. Youâre a freak.
You stood, stretching, rolling out your shoulders as you walked over to the fridge. Opening it, you took a moment to survey the contents, lips pursing. You had normal food in there. You could just eat normal food. Maybe. Probably.
For now, you needed to clean up and make sure no one ever found out about this.
And, more importantly, make sure Ronin never, ever found out.
Because one thing was certain: if he didâŚ
You would never hear the end of it.
The clock read 2:47 AM. The server was quietâeveryone else had gone to sleep, the usual chatter of chaos and mayhem dying down for the night. Well, almost everyone.
One handle still glowed in the dark.
You smirked, clicking on the voice chat. The moment it connected, his voice came through, low and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.
"Hey, whatâs up, darlinâ? Canât sleep? Or just missed my face too much?"
You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. "Itâs just⌠missing. And both."
He chuckled, the kind of sound that dripped with amusement, but also a little bit of something elseâsomething that made your stomach twist in ways you werenât ready to admit.
"So, whatâd you wanna ask me for?"
A dramatic sigh from the other end. "Idiot. Valentineâs."
Oh. Right. Last year had been a disaster. Mostly because he thought itâd be funny to leave you a gift-wrapped corpseâfreshly skinned, because of course heâd go the extra mile. It had ended in a chase, a near-stabbing, and an impromptu rooftop knife fight that nearly landed both of you in jail.
But this year, you had both agreedâno killing each other for Valentineâs.
Which meant you had to get him something.
"So," you started, tapping your fingers on the desk, "what do you want?"
Roninâs faceâwell, his emoji reactionâpopped up on the server. A middle finger.
"Why would you ask for a goddamn gift?" he grumbled. "Youâre supposed to surprise your lover. Thatâs, like, the whole point, sweetheart."
You huffed. "And yet, last year, I got a literal human hide on my doorstep."
"I thought it was romantic."
A pause. Then, a laugh. "Fine. Flowers. Thatâll do."
You blinked. "Flowers? Like⌠lilies or something?"
"Sure. Whatever. Iâm not picky."
And for a second, just a second, there was silence. Something rare when it came to Ronin.
Then, in a tone so casual it made your blood run coldâ"Midnight snack?"
You sat up straight. "What?"
"You been eating, sweetheart? Kinda weird, this late at night. But, uh, mostly just wondering âcause you got ketchup on the end of your lips."*
Your hand shot up to your mouth, wiping at the corner.
You looked at your fingers.
You shot up from your chair. "Iâll be right back!"
You rushed to the bathroom, practically tripping over your own feet as you scrambled to wash your hands. The bloodânot ketchupâclung to your fingers, vivid and fresh. You were quick, but not quick enough to forget that Ronin had seen it.
Your heart hammered in your chest, and for a moment, you froze, staring at the sink, the sound of running water filling the silence. It was too closeâthe slip-up, the small hint of a mistake that could unravel everything. The last thing you wanted was for him to know.
He didnât notice. He didnât notice. Heâs too busy being an idiot to notice.
You scrubbed your hands furiously, trying to erase any trace of it, the red staining the water swirling down the drain, just like the thoughts in your head. Itâs fine. Youâve done worse.
You wiped your hands on a towel, your mind racing. He hadnât called you out on it. Yet. And it wasnât like he needed to know, right? Please, don't notice.
You shook your head, trying to brush off the paranoia creeping in. Of course, he'd notice. Ronin noticed everything.
But for now, you were in the clear.
You took a deep breath, checking your reflection in the mirror, making sure you didnât look too guilty. You ran your tongue over your lips, still tasting the remnants of that awful little snack.
It was weird, you thought. You hated it, but also? It was surprisingly good.
You turned on your heel, heading back to the computer with a forced smile on your face, your pulse still thrumming in your ears.
"Everything okay, darling?" Ronin's voice came through, smooth and teasing, as if he hadnât even noticed your brief disappearance.
"Yeah, yeah, Iâm fine," you said, trying to act casual, even as your mind screamed at you.
"Mm. Good." His voice held that strange amusement, as if he was watching you. "Better not be hiding anything, sweetheart."
Both of you were uncharacteristically stillâsomething had shifted, some unspoken tension that made everything feel⌠off.
Roninâs voice had been teasing at first, but now, as the minutes passed, it felt like he was holding something back. And then, the blush hit. You werenât sure if it was him or you who started it first, but it was unmistakable. His voice took on an almost shy edge when he spoke again.
"Kay⌠Better not let you be a not sleeper this time," he said, the words almost careful as if testing the waters. "That time your fucking manager almost made you... frickinâ not sleeper. We wouldnât want that, right?"
You let out a soft chuckle, but even you knew it was a little too nervous. The memory of that incident was still too freshâthe way youâd almost been pushed to the edge by that workaholic manager, the constant pressure, the stress. It had taken everything in you to keep functioning, but Roninâs comment seemed to shift the mood, the tension, and for a moment, your walls cracked.
"Yeah..." you said, your voice soft, almost a whisper. "But I wouldnât mind speaking to you. You know? Speaking to you is enough."
You didnât even know why you said it, why it felt so vulnerable all of a sudden, but there it was. You were falling deeper, and you couldnât help it.
"Hah⌠Iâm really a hopeless romantic, huh?" You sighed, the weight of your own words settling in. You hated how much you were giving away with every little thing you said, every little action. But somehow, with Ronin, it didnât feel like weakness. It felt like⌠something else.
"Well, hit me up," Roninâs voice came through again, but this time, it was softerâan almost teasing undercurrent that made your heart flutter. "We could spend Valentineâs at mine⌠or yours. Or hell, that alleyway we ran into each other in last time."
You flushed, unable to control the heat that rushed to your cheeks at the thought. The alleyway was a place youâd never forgetâthe smell of blood in the air, the thrill of the chase, the way everything had felt so⌠alive.
"IâI donât know about the alleyway," you stammered, feeling the tips of your ears burn. "But, sure, we could⌠we could do something like that. Iâm not picky."
Another laugh, low and dangerous. "Yeah, youâre always the one whoâs not picky, huh?"
And then you heard it. The sound of him clearing his throat. Was he blushing, too?
"Youâre really going to make me lose my shit over this, huh?"
You bit your lip to suppress a smile, but you couldnât help it. Ronin was a lot of thingsâvolatile, unpredictable, darkâbut he was also fun. And somehow, against your better judgment, you liked that. You liked the dangerous little dance you two played.
"But," he continued, his voice now tinged with something almost sweet, "I donât want to sleep deprive you again."
Your heart fluttered at the way he phrased it. Sleep deprivation⌠was that his way of caring? Of worrying about you? Or was it just his twisted way of showing affection? You couldnât tell anymore.
You tilted your head, staring at the screen. The words you wanted to say got caught in your throat. Does he care, or is this all just part of the game?
"Well, I do have to work," you said, shifting uncomfortably in your chair, the weight of it all sinking in. "Manager said thereâs more writing to do."
Roninâs voice changed in an instant. You could hear the frustration, the tension rising as he cursed under his breath. "What the fuck? More writing? Are they insane?" He sounded genuinely pissed now, and it wasnât the playful anger you were used toâit was something more serious.
You winced. "Yeah, I know. Itâs a lot."
"Fucking hell," he growled, a rare tone of annoyance seeping into his voice. "You need a break. Donât let them fucking work you to death. What are they thinking, pushing you like that?"
You chuckled nervously, trying to mask the heaviness that weighed on you. "Itâs fine. I can handle it."
But Ronin wasnât having it. "No, you canât. Fuck that." The silence that followed felt almost too loud. "Do whatever you want, but donât overwork yourself. I swear to God, if you doom yourself like.."
"RoninâŚ" you whispered, barely audible. "Iâll be fine. Donât worry about me."
There was a long, heavy pause. Then, with a sigh, Ronin muttered under his breath, "I donât want to hear about it if you end up like that. You hear me?"
You bit your lip, your eyes stinging. He wasnât just angry anymore; he was worried. Maybe even protective. And you were terrified that you might like it.
"I hear you," you said softly, but it wasnât enough.
You glanced at the clock. Valentineâs was approaching. And you? You had a lot of thinking to do.
The call ended abruptly, but you were still left staring at your screen for a few moments, lingering in the silence that filled the room. You hadnât expected Ronin to hang up so soon, but maybe he wasnât one for goodbyes. After all, when it came to Ronin, it was always about the moment rather than anything after.
Just as you were about to put your phone down, your screen flashed with a new message.
Goreboy: "Why not stay on the call until you fall asleep?"
Your lips curled into a smile as you quickly typed a reply. "I don't want you to worry." You meant it, but there was always a part of you that liked the idea of him sticking around, even if he didnât seem to care about you quite the way you cared about him.
The response came almost instantly.
Goreboy: "Iâm not worried, sweetheart. Youâre just a rotten saint, too good for your own shit."
You chuckled at that. "Rotten saint, huh? Sounds about right." You sat back in your chair, feeling the comfort of the familiar exchange. Something about him being around always made the long hours of work seem more bearable. It was easy to get lost in the chaos of his teasing, and his dark sense of humor made the night seem... lighter.
You: "Well, Iâd like that. Letâs do it then."
And so, you returned to typing, the soft clack of your keyboard the only sound between you and the quiet hum of the night. He didnât say much at first, but you could hear the occasional rustle on his end, the shift of his posture or the sound of him stretching. You couldnât see him, but you could almost picture it.
You laughed at something funny in the book, your fingers moving almost too quickly to keep up. You two chatted about anything and everythingâhis usual dark humor, your frustrations with the latest writing assignment. Every now and then, youâd get caught up in a tangent, bantering back and forth until the conversation felt easy and natural, like the two of you werenât constantly circling each other in some game neither could win.
As the hours passed, the yawns began.
You felt a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. Your eyes drooped, your head growing heavy, but you fought itâif only for a little longer. It was nice, being able to laugh with him, to share the quiet moments that didnât need words.
But as the minutes ticked by, it was clear your body wasnât going to listen. Your words became slower, your typing more erratic, and before long, the yawns became impossible to hide.
"ShitâŚ" you muttered, rubbing your eyes. "I think Iâm falling asleep."
You heard Roninâs voice through the speaker, low and almost playful. "You sure youâre not just bored of me already?"
You chuckled softly. "No... just tired, I guess."
There was another pause, but you could hear him shift in his seat, the slight rasp of his breath as he yawned, too.
"Yeah⌠Iâm getting there too," he said, the words thick with exhaustion. "Guess youâll have to deal with me being sleepy now. Howâs that for fun?"
You smiled, your head sinking into your pillow. "Itâs fine," you murmured, your voice soft, nearly a whisper. "I donât mind."
He let out a quiet huff, but it was different from the usual playful smirk. It sounded⌠gentler, more like he was actually considering something, his usual sarcasm dulled by the exhaustion that hung heavy in his voice.
And then, just as you were slipping further into that comfortable, drowsy haze, you heard him sigh.
"Itâs not that healthy," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "At least you're asleep now."
You barely registered the words before they faded into nothing, your eyes closing.
"Good night," he whispered softly, his voice low, almost tender in its quiet warmth.
You wanted to say something, to reply, but the words died on your lips as sleep finally claimed you, the exhaustion sweeping you away before you could even react.
The last thing you heard was the sound of Roninâs breath on the other end of the line, as if he, too, had surrendered to the pull of sleep.
"Good night, sweetheart," he repeated, and then the call ended.
This is the last time, He talked with you. At least you didn't come online, Angel told him to check up on you before she uses her gun.
Your house was quiet. Peaceful, even.
Well, except for the fact that you were currently sitting on the kitchen floor, absentmindedly chewing on a cooked leg.
Not your leg, of course. That would be ridiculous. No, it belonged to your now ex-manager, who was currently in several pieces scattered across your apartment. You hadnât planned on killing him, but he just wouldnât shut up about your deadlines, your workload, how you werenât being "grateful enough" for all the opportunities he gave you. Heâd pushed you, and pushed youâuntil you pushed back.
And now? Now he was dinner.
You sighed, poking at a plate of slightly undercooked meat with a fork. Youâd always hated this part of yourself, the part that craved something you shouldnât. It was disgusting. It was wrong. And yet, the taste... well. You werenât about to lie to yourself.
And that was exactly when Ronin kicked open your front door.
You froze mid-bite, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Ronin, meanwhile, was standing in your doorway, expression torn between disbelief and absolute amusement. He scanned the scene before himâblood smeared across the floor, the half-butchered body slumped over the couch, you sitting there like a guilty puppy with a mouth full of human flesh.
You swallowed slowly. "...I can explain."
Ronin blinked. "Can you?"
You considered your options. "No."
Then, he cackled. Not just a chuckle, but a full-on, throw-your-head-back kind of laugh. "Holy shit," he gasped between laughs. "*I thought you were just some cute little killer, but this? This isâOh my fucking God!"
"Listen!" you said, standing up and wiping your mouth as if that would somehow erase the crime. "Itâsâokay, itâs exactly what it looks like, butâ"
"YOUâRE A FUCKING CANNIBAL!" he howled, doubling over, hands on his knees. "Oh, this is the best thing Iâve ever seen. Fuck Valentineâs Day, this is my real gift!"
You scowled, crossing your arms. "You donât have to be so loud about it."
"*Are you kidding? This is hilarious!" He wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Angel thought you were dead, and instead, youâre in here having a romantic dinner for one with your goddamn manager! Jesus, sweetheart, you couldâve told me you had a taste for this kind of thing."
You huffed. "Because youâd react so well?"
"*Iâm reacting great!" he gestured wildly at the room. "This is the best fucking plot twist of my life! Youâve been holding out on me!"
You muttered under your breath, "I hate being like this."
Ronin grinned, stepping closer, his boots splashing in a puddle of blood. "But you still do it."
You didnât answer. You just turned away, rubbing your temple. "Are you going to tell Angel?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said without hesitation.
"Okay, fine," he smirked. "I wonât. But only because I wanna see how long it takes her to figure it out on her own. Could be fun!*"
You groaned, sinking back into a chair. "I canât believe this is happening."
"*I can." He sat on the counter, kicking his legs like a child. "So, whatâs the verdict? Tastes good?"
You stared at him for a long moment before muttering, "...Yeah."
Ronin was still laughing. How was he still laughing?
He was clutching his stomach, cackling like youâd just told him the funniest joke in the world instead of, you know, revealing that you were a literal serial cannibal.
"Angel is going to love this," he wheezed, wiping at his eyes. "I mean, fuck, I thought you were just some adorable little killer, but this? Oh, sweetheart, this isâthis is something special."
You rolled your eyes, leaning against the blood-smeared counter. "Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," you muttered. "Sheâd have a heart attack if she knew."
"Oh, absolutely," he grinned, still catching his breath. "Which is exactly why Iâm tempted to tell her."
"Relax, relax," he smirked, waving a hand. "I wonât. But I will be thinking about it. Every time she nags me, Iâm gonna remember that you are out here making gourmet fucking human dinners, and itâs gonna make my entire week."
You exhaled, dragging a hand down your face. "God, why did I let you into my house?"
"Because you secretly love my company," he said smugly, hopping off the counter. "Now, câmon, you said you needed to clean up, right? Letâs do it."
"Wait," you smirked, a sudden idea sparking in your mind. "Actually, I was thinking⌠you could help me cook instead."
His laughter stopped. He blinked at you. Then his lips curled into a wild grin. "You are so fucked up, and I am so in love with that."
You ignored the way your stomach flipped at that. "So thatâs a yes?"
"*Thatâs a *fuck yes.**"
Midnight Cooking Show: Cannibal Edition
The two of you stood over the kitchen counter, your managerâs remains laid out in a disturbingly organized manner. You had spent the last few minutes separating the best cuts, while Ronin was busy washing the parts that were, in his words, "too chewy for my taste, but hey, Iâm not the one eating this sick shit."
"So, whatâs the dish, Chef?" he grinned, leaning against the sink. "Please tell me weâre making something fancy. Like, I dunno, some five-star shit. Letâs turn this asshole into a delicacy."
You smirked, grabbing a knife. "Ever had Char Siu?"
Roninâs eyebrows shot up. "Are you fucking kidding? Thatâs, like, the best thing ever. That sweet, sticky, roasted pork shit? That?"
You grinned wider. "That. Except, well⌠porkâs off the menu.*"
Ronin howled with laughter. "Youâre insane. I love it. Letâs do it."
Cooking Instructions (as narrated by you and Ronin, because he wouldnât shut up)
Step One: Choosing the Meat
"Alright, weâre looking for the tender stuff, right?" you said, eyeing the cuts. "Something fatty but not too fatty."
Ronin tilted his head, considering. "I feel like an asshole saying this, but our dear ex-manager here was kinda scrawny. Might be a bit tough."
"Thatâs what marinating is for," you hummed, grabbing a particularly meaty thigh. "This should work."
"God, Iâm never looking at a butcher shop the same way again," Ronin snorted. "This is so fucked up and I am having the best time."
"Alright," you said, pulling out the ingredients. "Weâre gonna need honey, hoisin sauce, soy sauce, Chinese five-spice, Shaoxing wine, oyster sauceâ"
"Okay, okay, wait a goddamn second," Ronin interrupted, pointing at you. "Are you telling me that your cannibal ass just had all this on hand? Like, you were prepared to make human Char Siu?"
You blinked. "I like cooking."
He doubled over. "Holy fuck, I canâtâ Youâre out here casually prepping for gourmet murder meals, and you want me to believe youâre ashamed of being a cannibal? Sweetheart, you are BUILT for this."
You huffed, shoving a bowl into his hands. "Shut up and mix the marinade."
Step Three: Marinate the Meat
Ronin watched as you coated the leg meat in the thick, dark-red sauce, the sweet-smoky aroma filling the kitchen.
"You know," he mused, propping his chin on his hand, "Iâve seen some fucked up shit. But watching you massage sauce into a manâs thigh like itâs a goddamn steak might just be my new favorite memory."
"I hate you," you said, completely void of heat.
"You love me," he grinned.
You ignored the way your face burned. "It needs to marinate for a few hours," you said instead. "Overnight would be best, but I doubt we have that kind of time."
"Booooo," he pouted. "Fine, whatâs next?"
You slid the marinated human flesh onto a roasting rack, setting the oven to the perfect temperature.
Ronin leaned against the counter, watching you with too much amusement. "So, uh, just wonderingâŚ"
"What?" you asked without looking up.
You froze. Then, slowly, you turned to him, smile too sharp. "You donât."
His grin faltered. "âŚHuh?"
"Youâre not eating this."
"Because I said so." You leaned in slightly. "Youâre mine, Ronin. I donât share my food, and I donât eat the things I like."
For the first time tonight, he was the one caught off guard. His smirk flickered, eyes scanning your face, looking for⌠something.
Then, he grinned. A slow, dangerous thing. "Oh, sweetheart." His voice was lower, sweeter. "That was the hottest thing youâve ever said to me."
You rolled your eyes. "Just go set the table."
Dinner for One (Plus One Obsessed Serial Killer Boyfriend Watching You Eat)
The aroma that filled the kitchen was heavenly. The glazed, caramelized crust of the human-Char-Siu gleamed under the kitchen light, a perfect blend of smoky, sweet, and savory.
Ronin watched intensely as you took your first bite, his chin resting on his hands.
"Well?" he smirked. "Howâs our dear ex-manager tasting?"
You chewed slowly, savoring the rich, perfectly seasoned meat. After a moment, you swallowed, licking your lips. "Mmmm⌠tender. The marinade really helped."
Ronin whistled. "Damn. Maybe I should take up cooking."
"You can help clean instead."
"Ew, no. Thatâs boring."
"Then sit there and shut up."
"Aye-aye, Captain Cannibal."
He grinned as you continued eating, watching you with something intense, fascinated, and a little dangerous.
You chewed, swallowed, and pretended you werenât thinking about how Ronin would taste.
"You know, you look cute like that," Ronin murmured, propping his chin on his palm as he watched you scrape off the last bits of blood from the counter. "White clothes were a bold choice, though. Now you look like a bloodied lily."
You paused, glancing down at yourself. Your white button-up, once pristine, was now splattered with deep crimson. You were drenched in itâsmudged across your sleeves, streaked along your cheek, staining your collar.
"Cute," you echoed dryly. "I look like a crime scene."
Ronin grinned. "Yeah. But a pretty one."
You sighed, tossing a rag at him. "Shut up and help me clean, lover boy."
He caught it easily but made no move to help. Instead, his grin widened, his eyes dark with amusement. "You know," he drawled, "since Valentineâs Day is coming up, Iâve been thinkingâŚ"
You raised an eyebrow, still scrubbing the floor. "Thinking about what?"
That made you pause. You turned to him slowly. "Ronin."
"What?" He was way too smug.
"If this is a cannibal jokeâ"
He laughed, finally pushing himself off the counter. "Relax, sweetheart. No human meat in your chocolates. Probably."
You groaned, turning back to your cleaning. "I swear to God, if I find even a hint of flesh in whatever you get meâ"
"Then youâll love me anyway, because you already do," he finished smoothly, flashing you that damn grin.
You scowled at him, pointedly ignoring the heat in your face. "Whatâs the actual gift, then?"
He hummed, tilting his head as if considering it. Then, suddenly, his gaze shifted. Lowered. Darkened.
Not his usual cocky, playful smirk.
Something softer. Deeper. Dangerous in a way that made your heart skip.
"I already saw my gift," he murmured.
He didnât elaborate. He just kept looking at you, as if you had already given him something he wasnât willing to name.
You opened your mouth, about to demand an explanation, but he had already turned away, grabbing a sponge.
"Câmon, letâs finish cleaning up," he said casually, as if he hadnât just dropped something on you and walked away.
You frowned, staring at him for a few seconds longer. But he didnât look back.
You exhaled, shaking your head.
Youâd let it go. For now.
Valentineâs Day. The day of romance, devotion, and in your caseâwaiting in a corpse-themed purgatory for your unhinged serial killer boyfriend.
Because of course you were.
You werenât in some cute little cafĂŠ, or at a fancy dinner with overpriced wine. No. You were sitting on an overturned crate in Roninâs personal murder studio, a dingy, bloodstained alleyway that smelled like iron and bad decisions. A place where the pavement was practically screaming for an exorcism.
You sighed, adjusting the heart-shaped box in your hands. Inside was a batch of apple crumble chocolates, apple crumble brownies, and an apple crumble cheesecake, because Roninâannoyinglyâhad mentioned once that he liked apple crumble ice cream, and your dumb, smitten heart had latched onto that information like a leech.
You glanced around at your surroundings, unimpressed.
A "Happy Valentineâs Day" banner wouldâve really brightened this place up. Maybe some candles. Or bleach. Yeah. A lot of bleach.
But honestly, what the hell else did you expect? Candlelit dinners werenât exactly Roninâs vibeâunless the candles were being used to torture someone.
Still, you sighed. He was late. Typical.
You kicked a stray piece of⌠something. Meat. Maybe. You werenât going to check.
Waiting here was a mistake.
Ten Ways Ronin Had Annoyed You This Week:
He kept making cannibal jokes. Every damn conversation. No escape.
Called you "Gourmet Hannibal" like it was a fucking title.
Asked if your favorite song was âEat Me Aliveâ by Judas Priest.
Claimed he was âchecking his fingers just in caseâ whenever you looked at his hands too long.
Said, âIâm a snack, but not like that,â at least five times.
Every time you ate, he dramatically recoiled like you were about to rip his throat out.
You bit into a steak, and he muttered, âDamn, there goes another one.â
Started calling you âTooth Fairyâ because you had âa weirdly specific taste.â
When you asked him to drop it, he said, âYou first.â
Brought you an actual human tooth in a jewelry box and asked if that was a âromantic gestureâ or a âfucking problem.â
(It was both.) (And Angel suggested him this. It takes a cannibal to fucking know another)
And despite all of that, you were still standing here. With chocolates.
Instead, all you got were a few ominous puddles, some suspicious stains, and a crowbar leaning against the wall like it was waiting for its next victim. So romantic.
You checked the time on your phone. Ronin was late.
Oh, what, was he busy? Did he have better things to do on Valentineâs Day than see you? What, was he murdering someone else?
You huffed and crossed your arms, scowling at the empty alleyway.
And then, because you were bored, you started making up excuses for him.
Maybe he was picking flowers. You doubted it. Last time someone handed him a bouquet, he used it to smother a guy.
Maybe he got distracted by something shiny. Likely. Ronin had the attention span of a caffeinated raccoon.
Maybe he got arrested. Again.
Maybe he was actually planning something really sweet and elaborate for you. HA. Yeah, no.
Maybe he was testing you to see if youâd get impatient and kill someone while waiting. Classic Ronin move.
You kicked a stray pebble, sighing dramatically. He was taking forever.
At this point, you were tempted to start leaving cryptic messages in blood just to pass the time. Maybe something poetic. Something that would make future detectives stare at the crime scene and go "What the hell does this mean?"
Maybe something simple, like:
"Men will literally commit murder instead of going to therapy."
Or, if you were feeling extra dramatic:
"My Valentine is LATE and Iâm NOT MAD but if I WAS, there would be CONSEQUENCES."
You pulled out your phone and considered texting him something passive-aggressive, just to be a menace.
Maybe: "Are you cheating on me with your victims? :("
Or: "I swear to God, if you stood me up, Iâm eating all this chocolate myself and then killing you for making me eat that much sugar."
Or, if you wanted to really get under his skin:
"Hey, Iâm just gonna leave this box of sweets here, okay? Hope some random guy enjoys them! :D"
That one would definitely get a reaction.
You smirked to yourself, already typing.
But before you could hit sendâ
A voice drawled from behind you.
"Damn, sweetheart. You look so cute when youâre plotting."
You startled, whipping around.
Ronin Beaufort, in all his smug, late-ass glory, grinning at you like he hadnât just made you sit in a bloodstained alleyway for an HOUR.
You narrowed your eyes. "Youâre late."
"You donât even have a watch."
You huffed, shoving the box of chocolates into his hands. "Here. Happy Valentineâs, you menace."
His brows lifted slightly in surprise before he smirked. "A gift? For me? You shouldnât have."
"I really shouldnât have."
He snorted and popped open the box, blinking at the sheer excessive amount of apple crumble-themed sweets inside.
Then back at the chocolates.
"Oh, youâre OBSESSED with me," he teased, grinning like the absolute menace he was. "Damn, sweetheart, this is embarrassing for you."
You rolled your eyes. "Shut up and eat."
"You love me SO much itâs ridiculous."
"Like, imagine being this whippedâ"
"RONIN, JUST EAT THE DAMN CHOCOLATES."
He snickered but finally picked one up, popping it into his mouth.
He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable.
Then he swallowed and looked at you.
And for once, Ronin was speechless.
You grinned. "Told you I was good at baking."
He blinked. "Sweetheart, I donât know if I wanna kiss you or kill you right now."
"No, seriously, what the hell?" He grabbed another one, taking a bigger bite. "Why is this actually amazing?"
"Because I have actual skills, unlike you."
"Wow. Bold of you to disrespect my artistic talent."
"Beating a guy to death with a crowbar is not artistic talent."
You laughed, shaking your head.
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Then, much softer, Ronin spoke. "Thanks, sweetheart. Really."
That look he gave you sometimes, when he thought you werenât paying attention.
The one that was too soft for him, too raw. The one that made your chest tighten and your stomach flip.
You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling way too warm. "Yeah, yeah. Happy Valentineâs, loser."
Ronin grinned. "Happy Valentineâs, darling."
And, with zero warning, he leaned in and kissed you.
Your brain short-circuited.
But you barely had a second to process it before he pulled away, smug as hell, licking a bit of apple crumble chocolate off his lips.
"Mmm. Sweet," he murmured, shooting you a wink.
And then, just to be a menace, he addedâ
"Kinda tastes like human flesh, though."
You smacked his arm. "RONIN!"
Valentineâs Day. A day of love, romance, andâ apparentlyâreceiving an actual human heart in a goddamn box.
You blinked down at it, tilting your head like a curious little puppy.
It was fresh. Still glistening. Still warm. Nestled inside a bed of black tissue paper, a stark contrast to the pale pink ribbon tied around the lid. There was a letter tucked neatly inside, pressed against the inner lining.
You didnât open it. Not yet.
Instead, you just⌠stared at the heart.
Because ohâoh, this was so cute.
Your face practically lit up, your eyes shimmering with the kind of sickeningly sweet delight that could rot an entire dentistâs career. You clasped your hands together, a lovestruck little sigh slipping from your lips.
And gently, lovingly, sweetly held it to your cheek.
Like a cherished stuffed animal.
Like it was the cutest thing anyone had ever given you.
Your voice practically dripped with saccharine delight. "Ohhh, Ronin⌠you SHOULDNâT HAVE!"
Ronin, who was leaning oh-so-casually against the alley wall, just grinned. Like the absolute menace he was. "You like it, sweetheart?"
"LIKE it?" You gasped, offended by his lack of confidence in his own romantic gesture. "Ronin, I LOVE it."
You nuzzled the heart slightly, sighing in contentment.
Like it wasnât a literal organ from a probably-still-warm corpse.
Like this was a plushie and not something that had been inside a human being ten minutes ago.
"Youâre so thoughtful!" you cooed, holding the heart up like it was the most precious thing in the world. "Oh my God, my boyfriend is so romantic. He literally got me a heart for Valentineâs! What a sweetheart!"
Ronin cackled, "Sweetheart, youâre actually insane."
"Says the guy who just gave me a heart in a box," you shot back, giving him an adorably scolding little pout.
He snorted. "Okay, yeah, fair. But I mean⌠well, I thought you might appreciate it more than flowers.*"
You cradled the heart in your hands, your expression practically glowing with love and adoration.
Like someone had just gifted you the rarest diamond in existence.
Like you werenât holding a fresh, dripping, human organ.
Ronin watched you, his eyes dancing with amusement.
He had expected a reaction.
Shock. Maybe a flustered little squeak. Possibly even an affectionate slap to the arm.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Youâre seriously hugging a heart right now."
"Because itâs sweet, Ronin! Itâs so SWEET!" you insisted, gushing over it like a lovestruck schoolgirl. "You gave me something that symbolizes love in the most LITERAL way possible! Itâs like saying âI love you with all my heartââbut PHYSICALLY! Thatâs so poetic!"
Ronin just stared at you, grinning like a lunatic. "Youâre so damn cute, itâs ridiculous."
You beamed at him. "I KNOW!"
And then, like the sickeningly sweet thing you were, you held the heart close to your chest and sighed. "This is the best Valentineâs Day ever."
Because of COURSE this was your reaction.
Of course you, his hopelessly adorable, sickeningly sweet, horror movie protagonist of a lover, would treat a bloody human heart like it was a goddamn teddy bear.
God. He was so obsessed with you.
You tilted your head, blinking up at him. "So? Where did you get it?"
Ronin raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What, you wanna know the sourcing? What are you, a food critic?*"
"I mean, a good gift comes with a story!" You twirled a strand of hair around your finger, genuinely eager. "Like, did you rip it out yourself? Was it a special kill? Was it from someone annoying? Is this a love rivalâs heart? Did you monologue before taking it out? Câmon, tell meee!"
Ronin grinned. "Damn, sweetheart, you wanna know all the gory details?"
Ronin laughed again, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright. If you MUST knowâ"
Before he could continue, your eyes sparkled as a thought hit you.
You gasped, clutching the heart tighter. "Oh my Godâ"
Your entire face lit up. "I should PRESERVE it!"
Ronin⌠stared. "Iâm sorry, what?"
"OHMYGOD, ITâLL BE LIKE A SENTIMENTAL KEEPSAKE!"
You spun around, practically twirling in excitement. "I can keep it in a jar! Oh! Or taxidermy it into a cute little display piece! Maybe put it in resin! OR! OR! I could make it into a necklaceâ"
You whipped back around. "YES?"
Ronin was wheezing. "You are SOâ" He choked on his own laughter, running a hand down his face. "I fucking LOVE you."
You giggled, hugging the heart closer. "I KNOW!"
Ronin shook his head, still grinning. "Damn. You really just accepted a human organ like it was a bouquet of roses."
"BETTER than roses!" you chirped. "Flowers wilt, but this? This is LOVE. This is COMMITMENT."
Ronin chuckled, watching you with that ridiculous fondness in his gaze. "Youâre actually insane."
"I PREFER ADORABLY ECCENTRIC!"
Ronin sighed, still grinning, before nodding towards the box. "You gonna read the letter, or just keep caressing the damn thing?"
Your eyes widened. "OH RIGHT, THE LETTER!"
You gently (and very reluctantly) set the heart back inside the box before snatching up the envelope.
It was sealed with red wax.
You gasped. "OHMYGOD, YOU SEALED IT WITH WAX?"
Ronin smirked. "Had to be fancy for my girl."
Your soul practically ascended. "OHMYGOD, YOUâRE SO ROMANTIC, WHAT THE HELL!"
Ronin snorted. "Open it already, sweetheart."
Inside was his messy, unmistakable handwriting.
Sweetheart,
Youâre probably grinning like a maniac right now, and if youâre not, Iâll be disappointed.
Just so weâre clear: this was not easy to get. The bastard screamed a lot. He was annoying. So I made sure to take my time.
But I figuredâif Iâm giving my heart to anyone, itâs you.
Unfortunately, my heart is still in my chest (for now), so youâll have to settle for this one instead.
Happy Valentineâs Day, darling.
âR.
You clutched the letter to your chest.
And let out the most lovesick, disgustingly sweet sigh in existence.
Ronin smirked. "Lemme guess. You love it."
You spun towards him, eyes SPARKLING. "I AM GOING TO MARRY YOU."
Ronin snorted. "Oh? Are you proposing?"
Ronin cackled. "Damn, sweetheart. Didnât know a human heart was all it took to make you lose your mind over me."
"RONIN, I ALREADY LOST MY MIND OVER YOU MONTHS AGO."
You beamed. "Best Valentineâs Day EVER!"
Who else but you could make being a serial killer this goddamn romantic?
You held the heart to your chest, rocking slightly on your heels like a child hugging their favorite plushie. But this wasnât a plushie. This was Herny.
"Iâm gonna name him Herny!" you announced cheerfully.
Ronin blinked. "Iâm sorry. What?"
You beamed up at him, all sickening sweetness and innocent delight. "The heart! Herny! It feels right, doesnât it?" You tilted your head, gently patting the still-warm, blood-slick organ. "Herny the heart. He deserves a name. Itâs what he wouldâve wanted."
Ronin stared. Then, he grinned. "Youâre actually insane."
"I PREFER ADORABLY ECCENTRIC!" you chirped, smearing a little more blood across your cheek.
Ronin just snorted, rubbing his temple. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Alright. Herny it is. So whatâs the plan, sweetheart? You keeping him as a pet or something?"
You clasped your hands together. "Oh no, Iâm gonna COOK him!"
Ronin choked. "Iâwhat?"
"COOKING, Ronin! Itâs an art! I have to do Herny justice! We have to send him off with STYLE!"
You spun around, your blood-streaked hands gesturing with dramatic flair. "Oh! Maybe braised in a red wine reduction? Or slow-roasted with garlic and rosemary? OrâOHH! CANTONESE STYLE!"
Ronin was wheezing. "Youâre actually considering recipes right now?"
"OF COURSE!" You turned to him, eyes wide with mock betrayal. "I canât just EAT Herny raw! That would be barbaric!"
Ronin just laughed. "You do realize youâre still a sweet little cannibal, right?"
"Sweetness is a STATE OF BEING!" you shot back, twirling a bloody strand of hair between your fingers. "One can be both elegant and a devourer of flesh!"
Ronin smirked, amused as hell. "Youâre really about to start Gordon Ramsay-ing a dudeâs heart, huh?"
"RONIN." You clapped your hands (which, again, were covered in blood). "I take my cooking VERY seriously."
A wet slap of blood hit your own face.
And thenâyou started laughing.
Ronin watched you, his smirk softening slightly.
God. You were actually fucking adorable.
Here you were, covered in blood, cradling a human heart like a goddamn treasure, talking about cooking it like a five-star meal, and STILL, you managed to be the sweetest thing heâd ever seen.
Like a twisted little doll, dipped in crimson, giggling in the middle of an alleyway littered with corpses.
And thenâyou kissed him.
You grabbed his collar, pulled him down, and kissed himâdeep and desperate.
Oh, he tasted it immediately.
Metallic. Warm. Iron and copper and something so unmistakably human.
You were practically smothered in it.
Your lips, your hands, your cheeksâall stained red.
And Ronin could taste it all.
You were laughing against his mouth, too.
A sweet, giggly, lovesick little laugh.
Like this wasnât fucking insane.
Roninâs first instinct was to pull back.
Let you smear more blood across his skin as your fingers curled into his hair.
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