moonlitchimes

[moonlitchimes]

Today - Ronin x G.N Chronically Ill Reader

First time writing for this fandom as well as fanfiction itself in over a decade so please excuse any grammatical errors, oocness, etc dhsdhh. Might come back to revise it later, hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

Reader has an unspecified chronic illness and is experiencing flare-up symptoms in this, I tried to be as vague as possible to leave their diagnosis up to interpretation.

word count | 1133 no warnings for this one <3

Today you wake up cold.

Which is, by all accounts, a bit odd. Soft sunlight filters through the curtains, sleepily draping over your form and that of the strong frame curled around you. You should feel warm, but you don’t. Instead, it feels as if you’re standing outside in a winter storm—drenched in icy rain—and not wrapped in the arms of your furnace of a boyfriend. You drift for a while, taking a minute—or perhaps several—to bask in the rare calm that has settled as the sun begins its slow crawl over the horizon. 

However, the biting chill festering in your bones only becomes harder and harder to ignore. And as consciousness eventually creeps upon you once more, you become aware of a dull ache in the small of your back. 

That’s where it begins, anyway—it always does—before slinking its way up your spine and stretching itself languidly across your shoulders like an overzealous cat. It takes its time digging its claws into your skin, sharpening the ache into a searing that tears into your veins and blights your blood until all your body knows is pain and nothing else. 

You screw your eyes shut, doing your best to ground yourself: rough hands curled firm but careful around your waist, warm breath puffing against the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek. Some days, the easy repetition is enough to help you focus—to function with the pain. To ignore it—as much as it can be ignored—until you can stumble into some form of normalcy. 

Today is not one of those days. 

The torment that has been simmering throughout your body finally comes to a boil. A pitched keen escapes from your parted lips before you can stop it, and you stiffen as you feel Ronin stir from behind—no doubt roused by the sounds of your suffering. You bite down so hard on your lip to trap any more whines that you taste the sharp tang of copper on your tongue, another wave of agony wracking your hunched form. Wordlessly, you pray to whatever higher being that may be listening that he settles. 

No such luck.

“Darlin’,” mumbled against your shoulder, still rough with sleep. “Way too early t’be up an’ about, y’know.” 

His words are met with tense silence, the only sign of acknowledgment from you being a slight twitch in your taut frame. 

Ronin’s brows draw together, the teasing edge fading—if only slightly—into cautious concern. “Baby?” he tries again, more alert this time. “Look at me.” Firm—not a request, no matter how undemanding it sounds. 

You’re terse when you finally gather the strength to choke out a response. “It’s nothing, Ro.” A beat—your tone shifts into something more casual, an attempt at nonchalance. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s something, darlin’.” He’s always been able to see right through you. He exhales softly, shifting until he’s propped up on his elbows before repeating, “Look at me.” 

When you finally face Ronin and see his dark, knowing eyes—always so perceptive, always seeming to know you better than you even know yourself—you’re unable to hold it in any longer. Your facade crumbles like withered bone, pain etched clearly across your face.

Whatever composure you had been feigning, you are still only human—still unable to ignore your own suffering, no matter how hard you try.

It felt ridiculous, in a way.

All these years, you had walked this same road alone, time and time again. Never had you had someone to lean on; never had anyone—beyond some choice doctors—bothered to truly concern themselves with your condition. You had long since grown used to this—to saving yourself. 

The support of another had always been something foreign to you—a nice dream, but still a dream all the same. Back then, it hadn’t mattered that no one cared for you (but you had wanted it—god, how you had wanted it). You had come this far on your own, so why bother changing that now? Today you will smile—biting your tongue. You will grit your teeth and bear through the pain. There is no need to cry like some sort of child, to weep about how badly it hurts. You can get through this on your own. 

Alone. Always alone—

You’re shaken from your thoughts by a sudden brush against your cheek, eyes snapping open to meet dark ones—like a void, like oblivion. 

“You’re not alone,” he murmurs, catching a stray tear on his thumb from where it rests against your cheek—and oh, when did you start crying?—”So get out of that head of yours, ‘fore it swallows you whole.” 

He didn’t wait for you to answer, leaning back with all the self-assurance of a predator, his eyes as sharp as blades. “Shoulda woken me,” he drawls—low and smooth as sin—as he watches you. “You don’t gotta suffer in silence like some damn martyr, not with me.” 

He doesn’t touch you—not wanting to cause you any more pain—but he stays close, waiting with all the patience of a darker saint. 

Something in you comes loose at the sight, your breath shuddering as you acquiesce, “I’m sorry—” But he doesn’t let you finish, huffing in fond exasperation as he inclines his head. “Not wantin’ an apology, darlin’, just let me take care of ya.” 

Because that’s what he always does, isn't it? 

Ronin—who, despite all his threats and talk, had seen you, a no-name writer in need of inspiration, and become your muse.

Ronin—who had placed a knife into your hands, lips against your ear, who had given you a choice of how you wanted your shared story to end.

Ronin—who had kissed you in a blood-soaked alleyway with a wolfish smile, like he had known what you would choose all along.

Ronin—who had barged into your life with a wild grin and bloodstained teeth—planted himself firmly by your side and refused to leave, like he belonged there. Like you belonged to him.

(He did, you did.)

Ronin—who knows you better than anyone else, who has slasher movie marathons with you just to have an excuse to hold you close, who stayed up all night researching your condition when he found out just so he could take better care of you.  

Ronin who loves you.

“You don’t have to.” 

“Wasn’t askin’ for permission, sweetheart.” His voice is quieter now—not quite soft, because what part of Ronin is?—but gentle. Warm, despite the teasing edge. “‘Sides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” 

For once, you don’t meet his banter with your own.

“I love you, Ro.”

A pause—his eyes soften. A small breath. His voice dips into something more genuine, more real. “Yeah. I love you too, darlin’.”

Tomorrow, you hope to wake up warm. But if you don’t, Ronin will be there.

And maybe that’s enough.

[moonlitchimes]

pretty little psycho!

yandere!mc x canon!ronin

warnings: swearing, canon typical violence & gore, ronin being ronin, suggestive ish, dirty talk ish

thank you to the people of the roserot discord for the help, writers block is a bitch even if you’re hyperfixating 🙏🙏

1366 words :)

fuck Y/N was tired. tired of people getting in their way, tired of girls trying to take him from them. However, they didn’t mind the blood, after all, red was his color; and god did he wear it well. Every kill reminded Y/N of Ronin, his voice, his face, the way his tongue piercing would flick out when he licked his lips. Fuck, it was hot. He was hot. But what they didn’t like was when he’d talk about some other girl he’d see in his favorite coffee shop, or on the streets.

“He shouldn’t love other girls, he should love ME” Y/N would think. They were what some would call obsessed, others psychotic…and in a way, she was both. The word “Yandere” would come up, and it aligned with her.

“someone who displays an obsessive and possessive love for their love interest, sometimes resorting to violence or other extreme behaviors to maintain control or prevent them from being with anyone else”

sounds about right, doesn’t it?

Valentine’s day was coming up, meaning Y/N had to get Ronin a gift.

Ding!

1 notification from goreboy

goreboy 11:04PM

hey, Wyd darlin’

y/un 11:06PM

thinking about you?

goreboy 11:09PM

awe, Such a Flatterer, ain’t Ya?

well Don’t get too Caught up, princess. Ya might just Miss me Too much

————————————————————

They had an idea. One he should LOVE

What’s more romantic than carving into the heart of one of the girls he talked about, and then gifting it to him! They did save one for a special occasion after all. The heart of this bitch named Lauren, some girl at the coffee shop he frequented.

They took it from their freezer, they put it in a tupperware container, of course. Can’t have her meats getting mixed with the blood and yucky stuff. They then grabbed a small tool and etched “Y/N + R ❤️” into the right ventricle, then etched more tiny hearts around it. Cute, right?

They then spray painted a box they had in bright red, and drew a little note saying “To Ronin” in their neat handwriting. They put the freezer box in the box, obviously didn’t want him to smell the organ smell if it began to rot…they had respect.

Their next idea was to leave the box in his Purgatory, aka his favorite alley, and watch his reaction. If it was good, maybe they’d pop out and kiss him, or something.

Ding!

2 messages from goreboy

goreboy 11:49PM

well Well well, leaving Me without A response?

how Very unlike You…

y/un 11:52PM

im a busy person, ronin.

you seem desperate for my attention.

goreboy 11:55PM

heh, You’re cute.

bet You wish I was x

y/un 11:58PM

maybe I do.

btw, if you plan on staying up…i might be dropping a little gift off for you in purgatory

how about it? early vday present for my fav crowbar killing serial?

goreboy 00:02AM

as long As you Plan on getting Me something on the Actual day

but I’ll gladly Take a gift from you Anyday, sweetheart.

y/un 00:05AM

well, good news. I just dropped it. corner under the bench.

goreboy 00:08AM

and You don’t plan on Gracing me with your presence?

just when I thought id Get to see you

gotta Keep a man On his toes, i Get it

y/un 00:11AM

maybe i do, guess you’ll have to find out ;)

Y/N then put their phone away, sitting by the bushes, hiding away from him. She heard footsteps, and recognized the red hair instantly. He arrived quickly, showed he was somewhat eager, or curious. Y/N watched as he looked around; was it for them? or was it for any cops. Probably both. He grabbed the box, sitting down on the bench.

“To Ronin.” He read, his voice soft enough to hear from their distance, but not super loud.

He opened the box, seeing the box inside. He was confused for a moment, then he opened it and gasped slightly.

“Shiiiit. Fuck, Y/N you’re crazy.” He spoke softly, his thumb running over the carving of their initials.

“God. What a pretty little psycho that one is…”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He put it back in the box, sealing it away like the best gift he’s ever had.

“They did say they’d rip the aorta out.” He sighed.

“God they’re fucking crazy, but I love it.” He mumbled.

This was it, the moment to pop out.

“Yeah? You think so?”

Ronin jumped slightly, grabbing his crowbar, but then relaxed. “Jesus Christ, Y/N…you fucking scared me. Thought you were a cop or somethin’”

“Me? A cop? You wound me, baby.” They walked over to him, this lovesick look in their eyes.

“Well. Ya never know, do you?”

They just chuckled, walking close, their hand crawling up his chest. “Did ya like my gift? You wanted me to cut the aorta out…but I wanted to give you a heart for valentines…to represent me giving my heart to you…”

“Well well…guess someone’s got the hots for me after all…” He teased, his hands going up to their waist. “And let the devil strike me down if I said I didn’t love it…sweetheart.”

He then put his crowbar down with the box, pinning you against the wall of the alleyway. “It was hot, honestly. The thought of you…my little writer darling…carving someone up for me? Goddamn…the thoughts it puts in my head.” He groaned softly, then his hand went to the back of Y/N’s head, holding that hair.

“Have you done anything else for me…hm? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the fact that every girl or guy i’ve had hit on me has just…miraculously disappeared…did you? Cmon baby, it’s me. I’m smarter than that.” He chuckled, his finger tracing their jaw before forcing them to look at him.

“you killed them, didn’t you?”

Y/N just nodded, looking up to him with those eyes that just begged. They weren’t sure what you were begging for, but you were.

“say it for me baby. say “I killed them for you, Ronin.” Yeah?” He spoke sharply, almost ordering them to.

“I did it. I killed them. I cut em up…bashed their brains out…cut the guy’s dicks off…all for you!” They spoke, completely enamored, completely in their head.

“My oh my…what a vicious animal you are, darlin…what have I made you into…i’ve corrupted the pretty little writer into an obsessed monster.” He chuckled, his hand gripping their waist tight.

“But fuck me, it’s hot. The idea of me corrupting you…the devil turning the perfect angel into a fallen one like he once was…god Y/N it’s a beautiful thought.”

He spoke softly, his voice taking a lulling tone as he leaned in, whispering the words in their ear like the softest, yet sexiest melody.

“It’s poetic, no?” He then moved out, his gaze flicking to their lips. He leaned in, their lips grazing for a moment. Y/N yearned for it, they moved in, but when Ronin moved out, denying them that touch…it drove them even crazier.

“Ah ah, not yet darlin, not yet.” He spoke, bringing his finger to their lips, and then they placed a gentle kiss on his fingertip.

“Blood.” They commented.

“Correct. I had just done a killing when you texted. See how I’d just drop it all for you…?”

“Mmm.”

“C’mere darlin.” He mumbled against their lips, finally connecting them for a mere moment. “Dancin’ with the devil, look at you…” He chuckled, then going to kiss them for real. Their lips connected, a soft moan escaping Y/Ns lips at the initial contact. It only got more heated as the kiss lasted longer; Y/N pressed against the wall, his hands gripping their waist for dear life, the metal of his tongue piercing cooling their lips…the tangy, metallic taste of blood on his lips, it was all deranged, yet poetic.

The love they had was messed up on so many levels, but that’s how it was around these parts, when a crime writer meets a serial killer, falls in love, then becomes a killer? It’s like Harley Quinn and the Joker in their own twist…and Y/N would be the queen to his king any day.

[moonlitchimes]

lover, you should've come over.

you guessed it, a ronin b. x reader.

small epilogue to uhhh confessions unheard: sickening sweetness from a MONTH AND A HALF AGO.... tahaha... yeah...

only reason this was written was because a good friend of mine had me thinking it up one day and i thought why not? it was really fun to write ngl (thanks alo for ur help !!)

this is short, but this is just to hold over my account until i can actually prioritize writing when i have free time and actually fix up my messed up revisions 😭

words // 2029

enjoy ! no warnings this time !!

ronin isn't one to bare his heart and soul out all carefree, he's the type to twist them with silken words and stringed innuendo, the type to keep you guessing so you never know what he's truly on about.

but damn, he couldn't lie; drifting off to sleep within the warmth of your lap as you thread your nails through his hair had to have been one of the best feelings in the world.

besides killing someone, anyway.

your fingers massage around the crown of his head and he gives a lazy sigh in response, lashes batting low and letting his cheek smush against your leg.

it's cute, the apparent need he has to interact and bury himself into everything you. maybe it came from the drunken confession outside your front door, or maybe it's the fact that he's recovering from a cold and couldn't give less of a fuck to dance around with his words.

"ronin," you hum, and he barely registers your voice, rolling onto his back so he could maintain eye contact with you instead, the way he likes it- especially now, with his voice rough from congestion.

his brows slightly bounce, as if responding 'yes?' and he runs his knuckles over your jawline waiting for you to say something, but you only sweep your thumb over the mulberry strands tickling his forehead, clearing them away from his lashes.

"feeling okay? you're not getting more stuffy from laying up on me, are you?"

he sniffles, letting a small 'mmm' falter through him and his index finger gives a light boop over your nose, a chuckle- throatier than usual, following.

"not so stuffy anymore, darlin'. jus'...a little tired, is all."

he's obviously congested, but it's clearing up and your chest falls slowly, exhaling in relief that he's not burning up as badly anymore.

you're honestly surprised that you haven't gotten sick by taking care of him. you're nursing him 24/7, and like the bastard he is, he's eating up every. second of it.

still teasing you, slinging a heavy arm around you to keep you close to him, constantly nagging for you to never leave his side.

he's as touchy as... never?

ronin had never been this...handsy in your friendship with him, and you'd never guess he was the type from how avoidant he seemed at your front door. but now?

now he's all over you.

when he gets the energy to stand, he lazily slouches onto you with his head on top of yours and arms snug over your neck like dead weight.

it's almost suffocating with how warm he is, and he takes little notice. if he does, he doesn't give enough of a fuck to move off of you.

you try to focus on whatever you're doing, elbowing him lightly in the side to make him move. instead, he only wrenches a dopey smile onto those pale lips of his.

"i ain't goin' anywhere, darlin'."

the finality of his words stir conflict onto your expression, a faint blush bleeding onto your cheeks and the corner of your lips firming themselves as to not crease into a grin. he's stupid.

and god, it makes you wanna kiss him even more.

but no! you can't, because his dumbass just had to wander the streets drunk in the pouring rain like some lovelorn loser rather than getting home and mourning his sorrows there.

you've chastised him multiple times over for it, but you can't lie- you're glad he showed up at your door instead of his. if he went home like usual, you'd have a conflicted serial killer agonizing over his feelings whilst being sick in bed ALONE.

and besides, every time you do start laying into him for his lack of caution or 'whatever' (how he phrases it), he just sloths himself over your duvet, hands up in a gesture of 'whaddya want me to do 'bout it?' as he chews his lip red.

"hey, hey- you're the one who's got my heart all strung up. i can't be the only one to take the blame, now can i, arachne?"

you roll your eyes at the correlation, ignoring the faint flicker of heat coiling in your stomach at the way his teeth tug at the already-blossoming coral of his lip.

...

it isn't fair.

he swings a love confession at you in the rain and you two are glued at the hip after. good, great, even! impeccable timing, really.

but you can't do anything about it. you have him staying over to recover and you can't even touch him the way you want.

he's sick, after all. even though he's not acting like it.

even the slasher playing out on the tv isn't enough to distract you. when watching these, you'd scoot just a little closer to him, and he'd pull you taut against his shoulder.

now though, he's soaking in your warmth, hands on your hips and head angled between the line of your jaw and the bone of your shoulder.

you should have known what you were signing up for the moment you let him inside.

still, you shoot him a look as you unscrew the cap off his medicine bottle, just in time to hear him groan, palms running to the front of your stomach.

you frown. "don’t even start with me."

he lifts his hands in feigned surrender, eyes lidding low and a brow quirking up. "eh, i could do without the medicine. leaves a weird taste on my tongue."

you shrug him off with a scoff, lips pursed. "you'll get better if you take it."

he leans against the counter, one hand propping up his head while the other pinches at the ends of his hair. "nah, i'd rather let natural selection take its toll."

..could he be any more annoying?

you roll your eyes at him before narrowing them, pinching the bridge of your nose. "oh, shut up and take it before i pour it down your throat myself."

he grins, slow and wolfish, his voice dipping just to spite you.

"that a promise, darlin’?"

if you held a mirror up to your face at that exact moment, the dusting of pink around your ears wouldn't have helped your case.

he's getting under your skin, and that's what he loves to do most.

why not give him the same energy?

you cross your arms with a sigh, turning your back to him with a shake of your head.

"damn, guess you don't want that kiss then."

the somber laced in your voice is pure mock, but it didn't stop the small grin threatening your facade.

in one...two-

"..alright, so uh- how much am i supposed to take again?"

bingo.

-

yeah, it wasn't too hard to get him to take his medicine after that.

he complained about the taste for about three minutes before he shut up and you dragged his ass to bed. luckily for you, he wasn't straining for an all nighter, either.

the window beside your bed is half-open, the blinds uneven where a few slits tilt just enough to let the outside in. dusky blues seep through the gaps, soft and endless, pooling onto the floor, stretching over the sheets. the night air lingers, cool against your skin, but your gaze is still fixed on him.

ronin, caught between light and shadow, the city’s breath painting him in something just shy of divine. the angles of his face softened beneath the faint glow, his lashes resting like brush strokes against his skin.

he's breathing well tonight. it's clear, not too stuffy, and his lashes lay still, undisturbed. no flutters, not even a scrunch in his nose as he tries to get comfortable.

you reach out, running a few fingers over his brow, smoothing over the faint crease that lingers there even in rest.

and your index finger falls over the bump of his nose, giving it a small boop yourself.

his lids twitch a little, once, twice, before he turns himself into the pillow beneath him, arms snaking up and around it with a low grumble.

you scoff, slowly lifting off the bed and sliding some shoes on quietly, taking light steps across the carpet and pulling an arm through one sleeve of your jacket, the other following suit as you grip your doorknob.

you turn it, trying your best not to have the door creak or the knob snap back into place, and just as you get a foot out the door-

"not even a kiss goodnight? rude."

his voice is honeyed with sleep, thick and drowsy, like he’s barely clinging to consciousness, and it's enough to have your pulse quicken.

you freeze, hands shoved in your pockets, already preparing your death glare, but you turn your head over to him, and...

he hasn't moved much, still sprawled where you left him, but one black eye's cracked open lazily, dark and luster-less in the dim light.

his head tilts slightly in your direction, cheek half-buried against the pillow, the deep red of his hair spilling shaggy and unkempt over the stark white fabric.

you chew the lining of your cheek, angling your arm against the doorway with a limpness that says 'fine, you caught me.'

"i was about to go and feed your babies back home, but i s'pose pepperoni and blackjack can wait since their father's so important."

he smirks, tongue licking over the dryness of his lips, before he raises his chin.

"you think i forgot?"

now, you pause at that. you stop the drumming of your fingers over the edge of the door, and your brow creases up.

"...forgot what?"

"my kiss, darlin'."

silence, then a scoff, and you push off the frame, crossing your arms with a wry smile.

"you're sick, ro-"

"and?"

you squint right back at him.

"fuck you mean 'and?' you think i'm trying to get sick?"

he leans onto an elbow, pushing his head up with a shit eating grin.

"c'mon, you've been sick since the day you tiptoed your way to purgatory. since you've kissed the devil, and now you're scared of contracting somethin'?"

your lips part. to retort, to deny, but you could only mutter something sly under your breath as you stomped back to his bedside.

you eye them over, and they're not so pale anymore- maybe a little bludgeoned, pink 'n pretty with the stain of crimson seeping between the light cracks softening on his skin.

your fingers hover for half a second. hesitating. thinking, as if weighing out the risk and the reward.

then, with yet another roll of your eyes, you lean down, close enough for the warmth of his breath to meet yours.

"fine. one," you murmur. "but you better pray that pepper's not plotting on blackjack."

his lips meet yours, warm despite the uneven drag of cracked skin against your own. it’s slow- unrushed, lazy in a way that makes heat curl at the base of your spine. the roughness of his lips should be off-putting, the faint taste of medicine lingering between you, but it’s not.

it’s familiar.

it’s him.

he exhales through his nose, the sound melting into the quiet space between you as he tilts his head just enough to deepen it. his mouth parts slightly, teasing at the seam of yours, and for a moment, it’s softer than it has any right to be- like he’s waiting, like he’s letting you take what you've wanted so badly from him.

but then, just as quick, you pull away with a scoff, brushing the back of your hand over your mouth, and your fingers linger at your lips longer than they should.

"that all i get?" he murmurs, voice husked from sleep, from you.

you roll your eyes, striding towards the door and opening it with pep in your step.

"get some sleep, loverboy."

-

his greed sickens me 💔 anyway ill edit any mishaps or clunky words/phrases and italics/bolds and sectioning later it's like 1:41 AM over here

[moonlitchimes]

Pinned

Hello everyone!

This is my public art and writing blog. I post for whatever I am interested in at the time and don't have a super consistent schedule (yet). Currently, I am comfortable writing solely for Killer Chat!, but this may change in the future of course. Requests are not yet officially open but if you'd like to send them in please feel free to. No promises I will get to them, but I don't mind fulfilling it if I believe I can do it justice. I don't have any big rules for requests as of now, just be respectful. If I don't answer your ask, please wait a few weeks before inquiring about it again. I have a busy life, writing and art are just hobbies of mine, unfortunately. I'll answer asks whenever I have the time to get to them! <3 Hope you enjoy your time here! :>

[moonlitchimes]

i refuse to let you die

[moonlitchimes]

This isn’t really tgcf but i gotta post my ronin fanart bc the fandom seems to be quite active here :3

[moonlitchimes]

. moon kitty (2021)

[moonlitchimes]

welcome to angelwood... (angelwood collection #3!)

this month's writing drop for my kofi + patreon subscribers! take a look at the angelwood collection, which includes a 16-page angelwood game outline proposal…❤️🫶

these are available for my devouring rotterlings and higher :)