Chapter Text
Ronin wasn’t exactly one who typically enjoyed showers. He never really thought that the idea of him taking care of himself was something worth putting the effort into—not for a serial killer as rotten as he was.
That was before you, at least.
Who knew that someone as twisted as him would fall head over heels towards someone as normal as an author—or maybe not exactly normal. He figured that much after going through with meeting him along his favorite gruesome alleyway. The same one where you ought to threaten to kill him. Though, you ended up kissing him instead.
And now, here you were, having someone with a bounty over their head sitting along the comfortable sheets of your mattress. The chilly frost that lingers in the air freezes the very tips of his fingers. He’d just gotten out of the shower, towel barely clinging atop his head after he’d given up on trying to dry it.
“Everything okay? Water too cold?”
You question immediately, turning your head towards his direction whilst you sought his reply.
“Nah, t’was okay. Gettin’ a ‘lil lazy, though.”
“Need help?”
It only took a small hum that escaped his lips before you scooted right next to him, your soft hands crawling against his hair to reach for the towel sitting damply on his head. The next thing you knew, he was melting under your touch. It’s a strange sight, really. To think that this person is the same one who has taken people’s lives—it feels peculiar.
Dating a serial killer doesn’t exactly make you any less insane now, does it? Though, it feels surreal, like you can’t ask for anything more.
His hair was as soft as you had expected it to be. You remember wishing you’d be able to hold his precious hair back when all you had were those silly calls every now and then. It’s quite a contradiction, given that he never really takes care of it, but they felt like pillows you’d be happy to sleep on.
“You’re enjoying yourself too much.”
He picks up on what you’re trying to do, your hands softly treading on his hair. He leans to your embrace—well, almost. He almost does. Ronin’s far too tempted not to.
It’s been longer than he can remember to have himself be cradled with so much affection. Sometimes, it feels so wrong to want—to remember it as someone else.
“Ther.”
The name leaves his lips smoothly, the light in your eyes dying in a quick glimpse.
Of course, he wasn’t thinking about you.
Why would he think about you?
Why did the way you trace his skin and have your soft fingers trail along his locks the same way as she did? Why did the two of you have to be so similar? It felt as if all he could do was look for the small crumbs of his previous love to the one he has now.
It didn’t just feel wrong.
It was wrong.
A minute does not need to pass before he notices how your touch faded away as you picked up the brush near the drawer by your bedside. Only then does he notice.
“...’m sorry. Didn’t mean it.”
The silence only grows colder; more deafening that it hurts his ears. He hates it when he does that. This matter wasn’t the first one either. He owes you every apology in the world, he thinks.
“Hey, ‘m sorry.”
You don’t reply, again—fingers clasping at the handle of the brush. Yet, the strokes of it against his hair remained as gentle as it possibly could. Ronin doesn’t even understand how you’d be able to tame yourself, but he hated it when you went quiet on him.
He doesn’t quite love the idea of silence.
“I love only you, I promise.”
Ronin quickly turns around, twisting his upper body to the side to catch your view. He did upset you, that much he could easily tell. He takes your hands, and you stop brushing his dark purple-ish hair.
His hand grips your waist in a loose manner, but the action surprises you. Your guard falters at his touch, returning his gaze this time.
You don’t flinch when he holds your hand, fingers creeping up your wrist as you steadily hold the brush against his hair.
“It happens…and I can’t control it.”
It takes a blink before you feel him lean towards you, invading your personal space completely. A peck brushes your lips, it’s more tender than it was rough—and you can’t help but want him more. Inner conflict races in your mind as you try to contemplate his actions.
“...but I promise, you’re my only darlin’.”
He kisses you, again. This time with more passion, but the tenderness continues to linger in the atmosphere. You can’t help but lean in.
Who were you to try and deny him?
Ronin has you wrapped around his fingers—and so did you have him. You wanted this and you know it.
“You promise?”
You murmur in between a kiss, meeting his predatory gaze.
His hair looked so good down that you can’t help but feel like you just want to lean in for more kisses from him.
“You have my word, darlin’.”
Ronin looks at you lovingly.
He looks at you like you were his.
He looks at you as if he were yours.
He looks into your eyes; It seems you’ve forgiven him, for now. How could you not?
His hand brushes past your neck as he snuggles against your frame like would a clingy child.
The soft scent of his shampoo envelops your sense of smell before you know it. You can’t help but giggle at his actions, your hand dropping the brush before you take his hair in between your fingers.
“So, how’s that new novel of yours going?”
He asks, shifting the topic almost immediately.
“It’s going okay.”
“Tell me about it then, writer darlin’.”