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decayedsword · 5 days ago

Note

love your writing sm!! if you're up for it, would you write an desperate ex-boyfriend ronin fic where he really wants 2 get back together with us...tysm!!!

Thank you for this request !!! It was SO fun to write!! And really a challenge to write ronin desperate w/o changing integral parts of his character/several chapters of set up lol <3

Ao3 link! - What's hell worth without the devil?

Summary:

Ronin’s crowbar hits off the wall with a metallic thunk, sparks flying off the end of it from the force of the blow. He pushes his hair back from his face and stoops to pick his beanie up from where it'd fallen on the ground. Shakes the dirt off and picks out a fleshy bit of viscera from where it’s wrapped itself around the point of one of his horns. Angel was right. He’s being fucking stupid. He needs to talk to you, needs to see you, needs to fix this. Now.

OR,

Ronin desperately wants to win back your affection after you break up, happy ending ensues.

NSFW for graphic depictions of violence! like no joke! read at own risk!

6,387 words :)

TW: Graphic depictions of violence

CW: hurt and comfort, references to sex, breakup discussions

Cracking ribs is always a satisfying endeavour. One of Ronin's favourites- second only to cutting out hearts and making elaborate displays out of the bodies of the damned, of course.

It takes less force that you'd expect to damage a human ribcage; sure, there's some resistance when his hand wraps around the slippery, wet bone, finds purchase in its grooves between the pulp and viscera coating it and pulls, but it's just the right amount of resistance. The kind that makes you put your back into it, makes you feel like you've really worked for it when it inevitably stops creaking and snaps clean off into your hand with a satisfying, sicking, crunch.

It's even better when the asshole he's doing it to is still alive to feel it, gurgling and rasping out breaths around their punctured lungs. Whining, pleading, begging for him to stop, prattling on about what a good christian they are; pastor at a fucking church like that isn’t the whole goddamned point, like Ronin doesn't already know who they are. This always makes Ronin feel better- so why isn't it fucking working?

He’d come out to Purgatory to get some fucking peace, fed up to his teeth of seeing the Slaughterhouse’s main chat ripple with a constant dripping stream of worry- for you. Not a single drop of even as much as pity for him even though he was the one who got dumped.

Ronin knows he’s an asshole, practically revels in it but it’s not like he’s unfeeling. He might not take things personally, but it’s not like he didn’t care about you at all. You were important to him- are important to him so of course he’s upset, but no one seems to give a shit about that. It grinds his teeth to think about.

Angel is the only one who has bothered to ask about how he’s been doing; but seeing as she’s incredibly smart and would have long put two and two together as to why he was broken up with, Ronin’s been ignoring her because he doesn’t want to talk about it. Hell, she probably put it together before he did with the way she’s been blowing up his inbox telling him to just talk to you, to work it out- as if it’s ever that fucking easy.

He’d needed to get away. Needed space, needed to get out his own fucking head, needed to give himself some satisfaction in what is shaping up to be an incredibly shitty fucking week… He’d needed to feel like he was good at something, and slaughtering? Well that’s simply second nature to the devil.

So he came here, to purgatory, yet for some reason, he still feels like a rat trapped in a cage. Every thought, every sensation, every emotion is a winding path his mind takes back to you and that moment. That second when everything splintered and you let go. He doesn’t blame you. Hell, he even gets why you did it, he’s just… unsure of how to fix it when he doesn’t want to fucking talk about it. Not even to you.

It hadn't been a big confrontation, not some big blow out or a fight where blame could be assigned and he'd have something to focus on other than the lingering regret. Just a quiet conversation where he couldn’t push the words he’d wanted to say past his tongue, choosing instead to brush you off with a wave and some stupid fucking joke of a line about ‘not taking things personally’ and then playfully suggesting that maybe you were jealous like a fucking idiot.

Ronin’s crowbar hits off the wall with a metallic thunk, sparks flying off the end of it from the force of the blow. He’s hunched over, breathing heavy from the rage he'd funnelled into the hit. A high pitched cackle breaks free from his chest and leaves him breathless, tips him sideways with the force of his laughter and he has to catch himself on the wall when he inevitably stumbles into it.

Ronin pushes his hair back from his face and stoops to pick his beanie up from where it'd fallen on the ground. Shakes the dirt off and picks out a fleshy bit of viscera from where it’s wrapped itself around the point of one of his horns. Angel was right. He’s being fucking stupid. He needs to talk to you, needs to see you, needs to fix this. Now. Ronin takes off out of purgatory like he’s on fire and you’re the only water in a hundred miles.

You sigh, and re-open the direct messaging window to your very own goreboy- or, the person who was your goreboy but isn't now. Your eyes sting at the thought, but no tears come out; you’ve cried so much in this past week that you’re not sure you have any tears left.

You keep hoping that Ronin will reach out, that he’ll have something to say that will let you change your mind but he hasn’t. Not even a precursory message to see how you’re doing, the kind of one where you both pretend you’re going to be able to be friends after the heartbreak ends. You’re not. You know you’re not. At least not for a long time. It’s why you haven’t reached out either, you can’t stand the though of pretending. The idea alone makes your heart ache.

Your friends have been trying to distract you from it; there’s always someone in the main chat in the Slaughterhouse, just waiting for you to come online. You have a flood of unanswered direct messages just sitting in your inbox that you can’t bring yourself to look at, but the one person you really want to talk to, or even just see has been offline since you broke up with him.

You don't regret it- being with Ronin was as easy as breathing until it wasn't. Until you finally figured out that under all that sarcasm and wit and insincerity was a man who wasn't quite ready to face his emotions, or at least not with you.

You poured your heart out to Angel once, worried that maybe you were wrong, or moving too fast, or were simply just not enough for him. She told you that you just needed to give him time, that Ronin was stubborn as a mule but he would come around, so you did.

You gave him months and months and months of your life. You disregarded hurt feeling after hurt feeling, telling yourself that he loved you, that he didn't have to say it because he showed it, in all the little things that he did, in the ways he couldn't keep his hands off of you. That it was always lurking just below the surface unspoken, bleeding out of his movements and into your heart. So you made your peace with it. Your boyfriend loved you, he just wasn't ever going to say it. And it was fine. Really it was.

…But then you finally got to meet Angel in person. And it was clear that Ronin loved her in the way that he moved, but also in the way that he said ‘You know I love you, dollface,’ in that private, teasing linger of his, sarcastic as hell but also genuine as he was laid spread out on her couch, head tilted over the back of it, grinning at her from his upside down point of view. Angel's eyes had flashed to yours, and for a split second you got to register her shock while she got to recognise your grief before you both managed to politely disguise your emotions. That’s when you learned he could say it, just not to you.

Ever since you broke up you’ve been wondering if Ronin is going to be forever stuck in the past. From what you’ve heard, in his relationship with Angel he was stuck on his highschool sweetheart- not that he ever really talks about her, and now, in his relationship with you, it seems he is stuck on Angel.

When you feel really bad about it you remind yourself that it's less of a you thing and more of a him thing, but afterwards, when the tears have fled and the anger resurfaces you always feel like you're giving him too much grace. Like who cares if it’s a you thing or a him thing, even if he can’t talk about it he could at least give you the fucking dignity of knowing. Say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, ‘it’s not me, it’s you’. Something, anything instead of just leaving you to fucking guess how he feels all the fucking time because nothing ever seems to fucking bother him.

If he’s told you once, he’s told you twice; Ronin ‘doesn’t take things personal’. Apparently not even being dumped. You felt like an idiot being the only one crying when it happened. You feel like an idiot now, sitting here with rubbed raw eyes and dark circles you could swim in, anxiously trying to convince yourself that nothing will have changed in the five minutes since you closed your messages. Because nothing will have changed. You know this. You know this.

You reopen the chat. It’s still the same conversation as when you left it:

<you> hey, are you busy?

<goreboy> nah, What’s Up?

sumthin on your Pretty little Mind?

<you> can I come over?

<goreboy> Course darlin’

like you Need to Ask

door’s Always Open

<you>

(…)

don’t go giving me the silent treatment now darlin’

wouldn’t want me to Get The Wrong Idea and start thinking You Don’t Love Me Anymore, would we?

Wouldn’t Want to Deny the Devil his Sacrilege

<you> think I’m gonna love you forever Ronin… think you’ll be the death of me, even if you’re not The Death of Me.

…but we do need to talk. I’ll be over in 15.

You knew it wasn’t going to be any different, but somehow it’s still a gut punch, staring at the little “offline” tag beside Ronin's name, right above his blank description. The one he'd deleted just hours after you'd broken up because he was no longer your shoulder devil, was he? It’d stung, how fast he’d moved, but you couldn’t really spite him for that seeing as you’re the one who actually ended it.

You still don’t have the heart to change yours, so it just stares at you, unblinking: ‘could call you my conscience, the way you’re always on my shoulder, but you’re the one leading me astray.’ You tell yourself that it’s inconspicuous enough, that it’s fine you’ve left it, that no one ever said it was about Ronin specifically, but you know you all know.

You sigh loudly through your nose and use your foot to push off against your computer desk so your swivel chair swings around to face your room. Only, instead of being greeted by the lonely sight of your empty bedroom, your vision catches on some movement outside your window and you see Ronin, crouched on your windowsill and gesturing for you to let him inside.

The sight startles you so much you let out a shrill squeak, jumping where you’re sitting in your chair and clapping your hands over your mouth in fright. Ronin’s positively drenched in blood and he’s waving his crowbar at you with a cheeky grin. You don’t even know how he got there; you live on the second floor.

When you don’t move after a second you hear a light chunk chunk chunk, as he ever so gently raps his crowbar against your window, leaving behind a bloody wet spot that dribbles down the glass. He raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say, ‘Not gonna let me in, darlin’?’

Not a single thought crawls across your mind before you’re padding quickly across the room to yank the window open.

‘Happy t’ see me, darlin’?’ Ronin immediately drawls. His face is cocky, smug in that way he normally is but you can tell it's not genuine. You know him well enough by now to see that it’s forced. There’s an element of upset where his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, a nagging crease in the front of his brows and a tension in his forehead as his eyes search yours for something, you’re just not sure what it is he’s looking for.

The expression makes you falter, startles you out of your exuberance at seeing Ronin for the first time in what feels like forever and suddenly you remember that you’re broken up. That you can’t read his mind or just assume what he’s thinking because clearly you’ve been getting it wrong.

Meeting Angel had proven that to you. The conversation you had with Ronin after had solidified it as fact when he had brushed off your worries with a snort and a, ‘That? Nah, that didn’t mean anythin’ darlin’. You don’t have to worry.’ Before flashing you a cheeky smile and then walking out of the living room and into his bedroom, picking up dirty clothes off the floor as if they were suddenly the most important thing in the world even though they’d been there for the better part of a week.

You step away from the window, and allow Ronin to slip into your room as silent as the night. He’s been in purgatory, that much is obvious. He’s so covered in blood it leaves wet smears behind on your white window sill, slides in drips off of his jacket and onto the floor. His hair is wet and stringy with it, and his hands are a mixture of flaking and wet bright red. You frown at the sight of it. Good to know it’s just business as usual for him.

You stare at each other in silence for what feels like forever but is probably only a minute before Ronin breaks it with, ‘You’re still crying?’ in this strange, inaccessible kind of monotone that’s usually reserved for shutting down a conversation that is difficult for him.

You turn your head away, close your eyes to block him out like that’ll hide how puffy your face is from a week of non-stop tears.

You hear a dull thump that you recognise as his crowbar and the sound of footsteps creaking across your floor. You slit your eyes open, unable to believe he’s really leaving and end up flinching in shock at how close Ronin is to you, barely two steps away with his hand held out like he wants to touch your face and- oh you can’t do this.

You’d let Ronin in without thinking because try as you might otherwise you still love him. And because the reckless asshole has apparently been wandering through the streets drenched head to toe in blood, and while you might be broken up, you still don’t want him caught. You don’t think you’ll survive him pretending to care though. It’s one thing for him to come here to try and be your friend again, it's another entirely for him to touch you as casually as he used to, for him to wipe away the tears you’d spilt because of him.

Ronin’s hand hangs uselessly in mid-air for a second before he stuffs it in his pocket, clears his throat awkwardly and looks to the side. ‘Didn’t uh- didn’t think you cry over me, least not- not this much. Listen, darlin’ I-’ He cuts himself off and his mouth twists in displeasure. He pulls his beanie off his head with one hand and musses his hair up with the other, looking away from you. You wait for Ronin to finish, but he doesn’t say anything for a long time, just avoids your gaze by turning his beanie over and over in his bloody grasp and fiddling with its little plastic horns.

You take pity on him, scuff your feet into the carpet as you ask, ‘So… how was Purgatory?’

Ronin glances up at you, wry smile playing on his lips, ‘Shit.’ He says, succinctly. You frown, Ronin may enter purgatory in a variety of moods, but he always leaves it in a good one. …This doesn’t bode well.

‘What, there wasn’t anyone worth killing around?’ You probe. You’re not entirely sure why you're doing this, not sure why you’re playing nice while tears congregate in your eyes and you have to swallow around the lump in your throat just to speak to him.

‘Nah, there was. Just wasn’t any fun, y’know. W’s like all the joy got sucked right out of it.’ Ronin mimes swinging his crowbar into the empty air and lets it hang there for a second before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You snort a laugh even though what you’re feeling is far from amused. For some reason Ronin’s words sting and even though you know he isn’t blaming you for it, it feels like he is. ‘What? Your One True Love just not doing it for you anymore? Gonna go back to your ex and tell her you love her instead?’ You snap. You’re not entirely sure your insult makes any sense but you don’t care about that, all you care about is that it hurts. The same way you hurt.

Ronin’s face twists for just a second, his eyes go wide and his wry smile stutters with strain before the mask reappears, you know you’ve struck a nerve. Good. You want him to be mad, want him to be ugly, want him to be angry, anything other than sardonically amused- least then you’d know he feels something.

Ronin doesn’t snap back. He doesn't say something cruel or mean like you want him too even though you know he’s smart enough to cut you where it hurts. Instead he huffs a breathless laugh like you said something funny. It's dry, ringing with the same kind of hollow, sardonic wit he was so fond of when you first met him and the sound itches at your skin, burrows itself deep and sits inside your ribcage like fuel, flaring your rage to higher depths.

‘Guess I deserved that one. But, baby don’t’cha know? Technically you’re my ‘ex’ now.’ Ronin ends his sentence with a high pitched giggle, almost hysterical in it’s making with a grin to match but you’re not laughing, you’re not even smiling- you don’t know what kind of face you’re making but you’re sure it’s not an attractive one as you contort your features in a desperate attempt not to cry.

The exaggerated smile slowly slips off Ronin’s face, gets replaced instead with an agitated, almost worried look and you want to hit him for daring to pity you like this. You don’t, Ronin would probably like it if you did. Grab you by the wrists mid-strike and tut something about virtue and self-restraint, say, ‘Show me how you really feel, darlin,’. Or maybe he’d laugh wildly in that way you can’t resist and say, ‘Finally. Been waiting all night for you to show me your true self, baby,’ before leaning down to kiss you and- no.

You don’t need to be entertaining these thoughts. Actually, you need him to go, and you need him to go now; it’s been hard enough trying not to think of him while he’s not here and now that he is it's all you can manage not to fantasise a thousand different scenarios where he's come back for you and everything is wonderful, fixed, like it never broke in the first place.

‘I think you should leave.’ You choke out, eyes trained on the floor. You can’t bring yourself to look at Ronin, knowing your resolve will fracture in a fragment of a second with one aching smile from his stupid fucking gorgeous face.

You don’t hear him move, don't hear him breathe in the dead silence of the room. You don’t look up, you can’t, just wait silently for him to leave with your eyes pinched tightly shut and quiet tears creeping their way out and down your cheeks.

It’s silent for so long you start to wonder if you’ve imagined him; if this is just the inevitable mental break that comes with staying up all hours of the night, driving yourself crazy from hoping with all your heartbroken might that something will have changed, that is until Ronin starts speaking. You can’t help but crack open your eyes to see him.

‘Y’know darlin’, killing assholes always makes me feel better,’ Ronin mimes swinging a crowbar out towards you, almost comical in its theatricality- you don't flinch, ‘but I killed six people today alone, darlin’. Six. Doesn't break my record but still… ‘S one hell of a number f’ me to still feel like absolute dogshit afterwards.’

You don’t know where Ronin’s going with this, why he’s telling you, all you can focus on is the stinging sensation in your chest where you’re sure your heart is slowly splitting in two in real time. An audible sob rattles its way out your throat before you have time to catch it. You reach up and desperately wipe at your face as the tears start to flood out in torrents. ‘Aw, baby.’ It should sound mocking, the way he usually is but maybe the sleep deprivation really is getting to you because he sounds choked, sincere in his emotions.

Ronin reaches out and rubs a thumb over your wet cheek, it’s pointless considering how hard you’re crying but the gesture is comforting regardless. You lean your head into the warmth of his grasp before realising what you’re doing and jerking out of it sharply with a wounded noise.

Your cheek feels sticky from where it connected with Ronin’s palm, his hands are still so bloody that he’s for sure left some on your face. You don't wipe it away, you can’t- what if this is the last time he touches you? A whimper rises in your throat at the thought. Oh God, this is so embarrassing.

You Can’t withstand the way Ronin’s looking at you, so you drop your gaze to look at the floor instead. At least this way you can finally stop thinking about his stupid beautiful face. You watch his spiked boots stride forwards as Ronin takes the opportunity to step closer to you, to lean in so you can feel his body heat. He runs like a furnace, so even though he’s not quite touching you, it feels like he is.

‘Darlin’...’ You feel his hand brush your chin and you flinch away from it.

‘Don't touch me.’ The words rush out in a sharp, whispered hiss.

Ronin withdraws his hand like he's been burned. You feel his breath hit you face as he sighs heavily, then watch as his boots retreat out of your line of sight and his body heat dissipates as he steps away from you. You can hear it as he moves around the room. He's leaving. You know he's leaving- you asked him to leave but the reality of it happening still hurts. This is good, you remind yourself. You squeeze your eyes shut, your hands coming up to cover your face as you start to sob openly again, not giving a damn if he sees you cry.

‘Oh darlin’.’ You flinch and your eyes snap open. Ronin's right in front of you, jacketless and about a foot away with both hands in the air like he wants to touch you, to hold you but he won't because you told him not to. You spot his jacket sitting on your dresser on the other side of the room and realise he was just taking the blood soaked thing off, rather than climbing back out your room and disappearing off into the night.

You sniffle, looking at him with wary eyes as all the fight drains out of your body. You don’t know what he wants, and you're so tired. You don't want to fight anymore. You're thinking about turning around and just tucking yourself into bed, not caring what Ronin chooses to do when he surprises you.

‘I'm sorry.’ It comes out quiet, voice subdued and serious without the usual melodramatic flair that twists them into something sarcastic. He’s not grinning, not even smiling or looking at you calculating like you’re entertainment for him, just watching you with a frown.

Ronin's face pinches slightly when you don't say anything, mouth twisting down slightly and frown deepening. He seems uncomfortable, which is weird because Ronin’s never uncomfortable; if there's one thing that's true about Ronin is he has the upper hand in every situation simply by the nature of his outlook on life. He always wins. Doesn’t look like he’s winning right now though.

Ronin scrubs a hand through his hair, grips it tightly and pulls. His eyes widen dramatically, and he steps up into your space, his other hand hovering around your shoulder like he wants to grab you but he can’t. ‘I shouldn't have brushed you off when you were upset, I should have listened to you- hell, I shouldn't have said that to Angel in the first place!’ A deranged grin creeps onto his face as he laughs a little hysterically but it doesn't sound happy. ‘I love you, darlin’, I really do-’

‘Please don't. You-you don't have to lie for me.’ You choke out. You can't stand to hear him say that for your comfort, to get you to stop crying- like it means nothing. You make to walk away when Ronin grabs you by the shoulders with both hands and pulls you back to face him.

‘I’m not lying! It’s the truth! None of that fake shit, I love you and I fucked up. I love you, darlin’-’ Ronin’s gripping you tightly by the shoulders, you’re not sure he knows he’s doing it and he’s got this desperate look on his face, eyebrows raised high, eyes wide and panicked. From this close up you can see they’re bloodshot, like maybe he’s not been sleeping either.

He sounds frantic, ‘I love you, darlin’, I do. …I’m sorry I pushed you away, I… haven’t felt this uh, love business in a- …a long time… not since-’ Ronin cuts himself off, drops his gaze to look at the floor while swearing under his breath. ‘Fuck.’

You know who he means, his childhood sweetheart, someone he's only ever alluded to because the memories are too painful. She’s dead now, and that’s about all you know about her because Ronin won’t ever talk about it, he categorically refuses to.

You watch Ronin breathe in deeply, then breathe out slow and measured as he closes his eyes. When he speaks his voice is quiet, subdued like the words hurt to say, ‘Not since Ther. They're the last person I really loved, and it ended… badly. I did love Angel, but it was… different. We were both trying to fill holes that weren't supposed to be filled like that.

‘And then you wandered into my life, and you were supposed to be something fun to play with, something to keep me entertained between slaughterings.

‘You managed to fair through all my bullshit better than most. Hell! You made it look like it was fun and uh… I didn't expect to fall as hard as I did. I was bored, and you were supposed to be nothing more than entertainment then suddenly you were important to me, more important than anyone’s been in a while. I didn't know what to do with that.

‘…I was scared to lose you, like I lost her.I kept you at arms length so it would- hurt less. But turns out I wasn’t listening, and then I lost you anyway!’ Ronin laughs sharply, self-deprecating and pained. ‘I was being stupid. And I’m sorry. And I love you-’

You don't know what to say. You think maybe you should be mad, or upset, or some other negative emotion at the rollercoaster you’ve just been on but you're so relieved that you’re lightheaded and your legs feel weak. This is what you'd wanted in the first place- for him to just talk to you.

At some point during your monologue the tears had stopped but now they come back full force- you can't restrain yourself. Fuck ‘should be’. You near launch yourself at Ronin, tumbling into his shaking arms and snaking your own around his waist to grip him tightly.

Ronin makes a startled noise, then his arms come down around your waist and hold you there tightly.

‘Take it this means you still love me, darlin?’ His voice is thick with emotion, tight and strained as he asks the question. It's phrased as a joke but you know it's not, know it's just his way of trying to abate the tension he's feeling and you don’t mind it- as long as he’s willing to talk to you honestly about how he’s feeling he can make all the stupid jokes and sarcastic one liners he wants.

‘Never stopped.’ Comes your mumble from where your face is squished tight against his chest. Ronin laughs, but the noise is strained like it’s covering something. You're about to question it when you feel his shoulders curl in around you as they continue shaking even after the laughter peters out.

You clutch him tighter to you, fist your hands in the back of his shirt and relish getting to hold him close. ‘Love you, ‘Nin.’ You sniffle, ‘Never stopped. Not one second. Been fucking hell without you.’ Ronin's hands come up to press themselves against your face, angle it up so you’re looking at him. His hands are sticky with the drying, flaking blood, you're probably covered in it now you've pressed yourself against him so completely but you really don’t care.

Ronin looks serious, shiny wet tracks covering his cheeks and a furrow in his brow with no trace of his usual cocky grin to be seen. His thumb smooths itself along your cheekbone, then he brushes some of your hair out of your face. ‘I am sorry, darlin’. Can't promise it won't happen again, given how fucked up I am,’ He lets out a self depreciating snort, ‘but I'll try my best. Promise.’ He presses his lips softly to your forehead, before tucking your face against his chest and resting his head atop yours.

‘’S all I'm asking for, Ronin. I know it's hard for you.’ You mumble into his chest, leaning your weight on him for support, suddenly exhausted after everything that just happened. And with the exhaustion, comes insecurity, ‘...I love you, Ronin.’ You say, tentatively, with the sole hope of hearing him say it back.

‘I love you too, darlin’.’ He presses a kiss to your head, ‘Now let's go to bed, you look like the dead come walking. They’re gonna put you on stage ‘n’ make you sing about it if you’re not careful.’

You snort, ‘You’d just love that, huh? But you’re the one climbing in my window begging to take me to bed. You’re more Veronica than I am right now.’

You’re mumbling sleepily into his chest, but you make your point well enough because Ronin snorts before saying, ‘Touché. Now let's go, sleepy.’ He starts marching you backwards towards your bed without letting go of you. If you were less tired you would complain, but instead you lean more of your weight against him and let him do the work.

‘Wow, can't even lift your feet now, baby? Guess you really were that cut up about me, huh?’ Ronin sounds smug and it should be too soon but you're so fucking sleep deprived and so fucking relieved that the comment makes you giggle wildly.

‘You also look bad, ‘Nin. Feral’s not a good look on you.’

You hear him snort from somewhere above you, saying, ‘Now I know you’re delirious because that’s a flat out lie. We both know I look my best all fucked out on a little self-indulgent depravity.’

You stop, put a to his chest and let your head lull back to accost him with an accusing stare, ‘You call this self-indulgent depravity?’

‘Are you telling me I don’t look good?’ He strikes what is probably supposed to be a sexy pose, but is entirely ruined by how he keeps glancing at you and waggling his eyebrows. You try to keep a straight face but a laugh bursts out of you anyhow.

‘I meant more how you’re looking emotionally wrung out and like you haven’t slept in five days.’

Ronin shrugs flippantly and pulls you back into his arms, ‘Okay, maybe this time is more like wanton desperation.’ He moans dramatically as he says it.

You slap him on the arm, ‘Ronin, c’mon, be serious.’

‘I am serious, deadly so.’ He fixes you with a deadpan gaze that you barely have a second to laugh at before he’s manhandling you up onto your bed. You wriggle under your blankets happily, turning to look at him through sleepy eyes when Ronin doesn't get in the bed with you.

The sight that greets you is both incredibly familiar and entirely breathtaking. Ronin's striking a pose again, similar in concept, but decidedly less funny this time. He’s got his hands relaxed on his hips, shouldersback and elbows tucked, face tipped up towards the ceiling. He's down at you with a smirk but the angle makes his lidded gaze look both sultry and almost condescending.

Somehow, even with hair wet and matted with blood and dark circles that could rival a black hole your boyfriend proves to be the hottest person on Earth. Ronin cracks a smile when you fail to say anything witty in response, instead you just stare at him with your mouth open stupidly. He chuckles and then drops the pose in favour of crawling over you. ‘S rude to stare, y'know, darlin’?’

You're still stuck on how beautiful Ronin is, feeling dazed and a little stare struck when he leans down to kiss you gently. His sticky hair tickles your cheeks before he sits up to shuck his jeans off and join you in bed. He slides in beside you and then attaches himself to your side like a limpet.

Ronin nuzzles into the side of your face while saying, ‘You won't believe how crazy I went without you, gorgeous. Killed so many people.’ He cackles sharply, like the idea is funny to him, ‘didn't even make a dent in how bad I was feeling.’

He’s silent for a second before he speaks again, and this time his voice is more serious, quieter, ‘…Think maybe you're integral to me, darlin’. Gonna have to keep you close from now on.’ He presses a kiss against your cheek, pulling you in closer to him as he says this. You wiggle round in his grasp to face him, lace your fingers through his own before leaning up to gently kiss him.

‘Don't have to worry about that. Never going anywhere again, ‘Nin.’

‘I'm not worried, darlin’. I’ve learnt my lesson,’ He laughs dryly, ‘not gonna forsake you again. Just want you nearby, that's all.’ Ronin hums thoughtfully before saying, ‘When we get up tomorrow we should talk about moving in together, all married-like.’

‘Ninnn, c'mon. I already forgave you, there's no need to overcompensate.’

Ronin pulls back from you to look you in the eyes, his face is deadly serious, voice a steady rumble when he says, ‘No overcompensation here, darlin’. Just saying what I've been wishing I said all fucking week when you asked if I was ever gonna love you. Because I did. I- I do. Love you, that is.’ He breaks eye contact, clears his throat and looks away, ‘W's just being a coward, ‘s all.’

‘Oh.’ You say.

‘Good “oh” or bad “oh”?’ Ronin's teasing you again, smug grin on his face and you know where he's going with it before he even starts to say, ‘No, wait, I know what your good O sounds like, it sounds like this-’ before he starts fake moaning, imitating what you sound like in bed with a shit eating grin on his face.

‘Ronin! Oh my God! Stop! Don't- don't do that!’ You put your hands over his mouth, try to muffle the sounds leaking out of it and it seems to work. You’re so relieved you don’t think twice about how suspiciously easy that was.

Ronin has stopped his ridiculously exaggerated moaning but you fail to see the glint in his eyes before he opens his mouth wide and licks your palm with a truly disgusting amount of saliva. ‘RONIN!’ You shriek, hands flying away from his mouth as he rolls around your bed, cackling heavily at the outraged look on your face.

You're busy wiping your hands on the bedspread when Ronin snuggles himself back into your side, ‘See, if we lived together we could do this every damn day.’

‘Why on Earth would I want you to basically spit in my hands every damn day, Ronin?’

‘Well… I was more thinking about the “good O” part of it.’

You turn your head so you're looking at him, you're pressed so close that your noses brush when you do. ‘You, Ronin Beaufort, are a horndog.’ He’s grinning at you through half opened eyes, already well on his way to dreamland now that you’re securely in his arms and everything is right again. You’re overcome for a second with how beautiful he is before you manage to get ahold of yourself and finish your sentence. ‘Now, we are going to snuggle and then we are going to sleep. We can discuss this tomorrow.’

‘Whatever you say, boss.’Ronin is grinning contentedly as he lifts his head just to flop it down on your pillow, closing his eyes and making an exaggerated show of ‘going to sleep’, smacking his lips and reshuffling like he’s seventy and he’s uncomfortable. Somehow during all of this, he sneakily manages to pull you even closer in his embrace, entangling your legs and pulling you partially on top of him and for the first time in a week your heart feels whole as you close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

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decayedsword · 6 days ago