#my wife CAN stab me a little. I do not care.

[sleeeepy-demon]

doctors hate her its part 9 of horrible bg3 memes i drew on paint

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hiiiii can you do a jealous Alastor but not of anyone but his own shadows bc his wifey takes a liking on one of his shadows.

Oooh! I like this quite a lot! It’s very interesting and unique! Once again, beloved hubby Alastor! Another one I want to explore hubby of is Blitz. I think Blitz would make a good hubby

Alastor- Picking Favourites

Alastor’s furious, steaming from his deer-like ears so hot that it’s basically boiling him… did somebody hurt his ego? No. Did Angel Dust sexually advance on him again? No. Did his breakfast get interrupted by the Hotel Manager? NO. Nothing has inconvenienced him but something awful has been happening, day by day, that he can barely keep his composure

Hearing your laughter directed at something else felt like a puncture stab wound to his throat, but knowing your laughter is directed at his mere sentient shadow basically gutted him in the stomach with a sharp butcher knife right after. You’re his wife, his missus, his realm, the woman he has been fawning over for so long and you’re hitting it up with his sentient silent shadow?!

Of course, Alastor’s fascinating lively shadow is just being nice to it’s master’s recently wedded spouse, and is trying to get you accustom to being around so much Voodoo magic and the weirdness that is Alastor himself so it’s being all caring and leading you about, showing you items and teaching you Alastor’s favourite foods

But that doesn’t mean Alastor isn’t jealous… because he is, he’s really jealous

Whilst he reads through a interesting crime fiction novel, Alastor’s tall fluffy deer-like ears flick up at the sound of your voice. He can’t sense his voodoo-magic induced shadow, meaning that it’s wondered off to you and as he suspected, you enter your husband’s soothingly silent fireplace-warmed accompanied by Alastor’s sentient shadow. It cant really talk but it makes all kinds of humming and echoey noises. It almost seems like you understand it…

Alastor’s patience, throughout every time he hears this, has finally shattered to pieces as his claws dig into the book in his hand, snapping his fingers. The shadow directly mirroring your husband’s look, fades away into thin air as if it was a big fire and a bucket of water was dumped on the top of it, rising up into streams of smoke. It’s gone and you’re confused on why it disappeared

“Darling. Why are you getting so handsy with my friend?”

Alastor almost growls out with his deep scowl… this is possibly the first ever time you and Hell will ever see Alastor frown and frown so deeply he is… it’s kinda unnatural to look at but when Alastor willingly frowns and can’t pull himself to smile, it means he is more than pissed off… you didn’t think just being polite and going along with your husband’s voodoo magic shadow being would ever cause a problem

It’s just that Alastor’s love for you is so strong that it causes jealousy to concur and even jealousy over just some magic creating a shadowy being. Something that is sentient but mainly tied to it’s owner, to Alastor and he is jealous of his own creation

Approaching your beloved husband, the Radio Demon, you lean over, pushing back his somewhat messy crimson red bangs and kisses directly over the pale red almost bullet-sized ‘x’ on the flesh of his forehead. That ‘x’ is the biggest weak spot on Alastor, a symbol of his shame and where his pride can be hurt the most but he doesn’t mind showing off all his weaknesses and vulnerabilities to you… he had already told you about his human life

What’s one little kiss on that ‘x’ going to do?

Pulling back. It’s almost like the single kiss had melted away all his anger and Alastor is now just a soft innocent fluffy little fawn with his crimson red eyes almost sparkling at the affection. He didn’t suspect that, he suspected this’d turn into some big fight but you’re not going to argue, you’re going to explain yourself

“Alastor… Al, my love. I wasn’t replacing you with your shadow buddy. He was just trying to help me get accustom to being your wife. I’ve never been married before and being married to the Radio Demon… it’s. It requires a lot of adjusting so he was just trying to help”

Alastor couldn’t help but feel a bit bad about his half temper tantrum. Of course, why would his shadow even care about having a spouse of its own? It doesn’t, it cares about you being the best wife for its master so it’s trying to help and get you more comfortable. Yes, he is still jealous that you didn’t come to him and go to a shadow… but he does really appreciate all the effort and the wish to not rely on him in order to impress him

After taking a deep breath whilst placing his bigger clawed hand on the smaller clawed hand of yours over his cheek, gently fondling the soft skin over his face. Alastor rhythmically brushes his own fingers over the smooth skin of your hand briefly. Controlling himself, controlling his emotions and then finally saying whilst opening his eyes again to meet yours

Just… such beautiful eyes

“My dear… I appreciate the efforts but please, don’t think you can’t come to me to learn. We’re husband and wife, we work together. You don’t need to go to my friends for that advice”

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking. 

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind. 

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?” 

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.” 

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back. 

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off. 

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted. 

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable. 

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing. 

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position. 

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world. 

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid. 

Not when you didn’t know he loved you. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.” 

His chest tightened. It was his fault. 

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.” 

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.” 

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend. 

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him. 

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck. 

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough. 

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out. 

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence. 

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.  

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out. 

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips. 

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her. 

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes. 

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child. 

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t. 

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied. 

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant. 

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick. 

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?” 

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—” 

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.” 

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes. 

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked. 

“Oh, I—” 

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him. 

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.” 

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side. 

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar. 

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse. 

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead. 

“She’s burning up,” she whispered. 

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.” 

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.” 

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.” 

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you. 

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked… 

You looked as if you were dead. 

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope. 

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.” 

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him. 

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him. 

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.” 

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.” 

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.” 

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.” 

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…” 

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.” 

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left. 

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders. 

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.  

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise. 

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again. 

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.” 

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.” 

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern. 

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.” 

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.” 

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms. 

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.” 

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.” 

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.” 

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?” 

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.” 

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?” 

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her. 

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.” 

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?” 

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.” 

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical. 

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.” 

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies. 

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else. 

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister. 

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.” 

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.” 

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around. 

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.” 

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.” 

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.” 

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer. 

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.” 

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again. 

“...Thank you. For being here for me.” 

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.” 

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings. 

-

Your head hurt. 

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes. 

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep? 

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand. 

You smiled. She came for you after all. 

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all. 

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly. 

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.” 

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood. 

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.” 

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?” 

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?” 

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.” 

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.” 

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.” 

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate. 

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have. 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away. 

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?” 

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?” 

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.” 

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly. 

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—” 

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…” 

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this. 

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?” 

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.” 

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” 

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.” 

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?” 

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.” 

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.” 

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.” 

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her. 

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.” 

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?” 

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.” 

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together.  “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted. 

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.” 

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.” 

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.” 

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!” 

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.” 

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced. 

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded. 

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.” 

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?” 

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?” 

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded. 

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.” 

“Mother—” 

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I assumed just as much, Mother.” 

-

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits. 

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it. 

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger. 

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym. 

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her. 

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question. 

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.” 

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“I had to see you,” Anthony said. 

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.” 

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.” 

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down. 

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship. 

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will. 

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes. 

“Is it true?” 

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?” 

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?” 

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded. 

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.” 

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?” 

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?” 

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.” 

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?” 

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?” 

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.” 

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head. 

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.” 

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.” 

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?” 

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.” 

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.” 

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever. 

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet. 

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.” 

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.” 

“My lady, are you—” 

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.” 

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence. 

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself. 

You’d never felt so useless.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

[peachesofteal]

Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.

The chair at your kitchen table is small. 

It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone. 

“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit. 

“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.” 

You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you. 

“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?” 

“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile. 

“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches. 

“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.

“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“ 

“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back. 

“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.” 

“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again. 

What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely. 

“I can take her, if you want to-“ 

“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again. 

“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty. 

“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“ 

The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled. 

“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control. 

He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.” 

It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself. 

“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside. 

“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod. 

“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth. 

It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.

It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.

"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.

"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"

"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.

"I know it doesn't-"

"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.

"Captain."

"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.

"We don't need anything from you."

"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."

"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.

"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.

"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.

"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝟐 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue prompts taken from the silent hill 2 remake, developed by bloober team. trigger warning for dark themes. feel free to change as you seem fit. )

❛ in my restless dreams, i see that town. ❜

❛ hey, it's okay. i didn't mean to scare you. ❜

❛ i'm kind of lost. ❜

❛ i guess i don't really care if it's dangerous or not. i'm going either way. ❜

❛ what happened to this town? ❜

❛ whatever it is, it's not human. ❜

❛ i didn't do anything! he was like that when i got here. ❜

❛ you wanna come with? maybe together we can find a way out of this town. ❜

❛ sorry, but i can't leave. not yet. ❜

❛ are you afraid? ❜

❛ did you find the person that you were looking for? ❜

❛ don't worry, i'm not crazy. least, i don't think so. ❜

❛ should i go with you? this town really is dangerous. ❜

❛ what's a big dumb-dumb like you doing here anyway? ❜

❛ hey, that's not very nice. didn't your parents teach you any manners? ❜

❛ do i look like your girlfriend? ❜

❛ i can't believe it. your face, your voice... you could be— ❜

❛ i don't look like a ghost, do i? see? warm. ❜

❛ i can show you if you want. unless you have somewhere else to be? something else to do? ❜

❛ hey, easy there. i'm just messing with you. ❜

❛ you're coming with me? can't you just tell me where it is? ❜

❛ what, you were just gonna leave me here? alone? with all these monsters around? ❜

❛ is it because i remind you of... her? ❜

❛ this place we're going to, what is it, exactly? ❜

❛ you ever stay in a place like this? the walls are so thin you can hear everything. love, hate, jealousy... ❜

❛ i think you just saved my life back there. ❜

❛ hey. you think i'd look good in this one? ❜

❛ this room... there's something wrong with it. i think we should leave. ❜

❛ oh, loosen up. it sure beats running around with those monsters out there. ❜

❛ what will you tell her if... when you find her? ❜

❛ oh, c'mon. don't give me that look. i was just kidding. ❜

❛ can we stay? just for a little while? ❜

❛ this place, this whole thing, it's like a nightmare. i just wanted to get away from it, even for a second. ❜

❛ here. something to take the edge off. ❜

❛ we should probably get going. ❜

❛ we could come back later, if you want. you know, in case we need a break. ❜

❛ i wanted to ask you... what if you can't find [ name ]? what will you do? ❜

❛ thanks for checking up on me. it's very sweet of you. ❜

❛ how do you know my name? ❜

❛ i'm sorry, but i can't let you just run around this place. you might get hurt. ❜

❛ please open the door. there's something in here. ❜

❛ i was almost killed back there! i've never been so scared in my whole life! ❜

❛ all you care about is that dead wife of yours. ❜

❛ you couldn't care less about me, could you? ❜

❛ stay with me. don't leave me alone again. you're supposed to take care of me. ❜

❛ i don't know, for some reason i feel like it's up to me to protect her. ❜

❛ well, whaddaya know... a stroll in the rain. how romantic. ❜

❛ i'm trying to keep things light. just humor me, okay? ❜

❛ you think you could give me a hand? ❜

❛ you're supposed to be the big man around here. how's a little girl like me supposed to help? ❜

❛ what's wrong? i thought you wanted to get out of here. ❜

❛ this place is different from what i remember. i guess... things never really stay the same, do they? ❜

❛ you... still don't want me to go with you? if we stick together, we just might make it out of here. ❜

❛ ain't no big deal. just put the gun to their head and... pow! ❜

❛ you can't just kill someone 'cause of the way they looked at you. ❜

❛ please. i'll be good. i promise. ❜

❛ it's always the same with you. you're only after one thing. ❜

❛ i don't know who you think i am, but i don't want to hurt you. ❜

❛ i thought that thing killed you...! are you hurt? ❜

❛ but that thing... it stabbed you. there was blood everywhere. ❜

❛ stabbed me? what do you mean? ❜

❛ honey... did something happen to you? ❜

❛ are you confusing me with someone else? ❜

❛ you said you took everything. but you forgot the videotape we made. ❜

❛ it doesn't matter who i am. i'm here for you. ❜

❛ see? i'm real. ❜

❛ don't you want to touch me? ❜

❛ i'll come back, i promise. ❜

❛ how many times do i have to kill you? ❜

❛ it doesn't matter if you're smart, dumb, ugly, pretty... it's all the same once you're dead! ❜

❛ you wanna talk down to me some more? tell me to relax? ❜

❛ you know i'll find you! ❜

❛ guess i deserved it, huh? the fartface that i am. ❜

❛ you got any other things planned? i think i saw a dark room back there you could lock me up in. ❜

❛ where are you? i'm waiting for you. please, come to me. ❜

❛ i think you were right. what we're looking for... it's not here. ❜

❛ thank you for helping me earlier... but i wish you hadn't. ❜

❛ i know what you are. i know why i needed you. but it's all over now. i don't need you anymore. ❜

❛ it'd be easier if they just killed me. ❜

❛ why are you still here? i told you to go. ❜

❛ wait! please don't go. don't leave me alone. i didn't mean what i said. ❜

❛ please... tell me i'll be okay. ❜

❛ i'm here for you. so what if i'm not her? ❜

❛ i can give you what she never could. i can be better than her. ❜

❛ what else do you want me to be? ❜

❛ i won't let you do this to me. i won't let you go. ❜

❛ the truth is, i hated you. ❜

❛ i wanted my life back. ❜

❛ i tried. i really did. but... i just... can't go on without you. ❜

❛ i can't forgive myself for what i've done. ❜

❛ i want you to go on. i want you to live. for yourself and for others. ❜

❛ you made me happy. ❜

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Queen Step Sister

She wasn’t always a queen 

Like every queen before she was a princess

But before she was a princess she was a count from a low-class duchy

Her mother had found your father

Old, ill, and enticed by the countess willing to entertain him

The countess herself wasn’t awful

She was civil, for the most part the only problem with her was her daughter

“And this is your new sister—Harley! Say hello!”

“Hmph just because your Dad’s the King doesn’t mean I have to like you!”

“Harley!”

Harley was a menace

Snooty and rude

Every time she spoke to you it was like liquid acid spraying specifically at you

She was typically spoiled but she never mistreated the servants 

She was decent to your father 

But to you, it was like she hated your guts from the very beginning

“I’m glad I spilled all that cranberry juice on you! The little outfit you were wearing before matched your ugliness a bit too well.”

“That was a gift from my late mother!”

“Hm figures.”

Of course in turn you hate her too

And you don’t bother hiding it from your father when he weakly asks you to hang out with her

“Did you hear what she said to me? I honestly couldn’t care less if that horse she spooked stomped her flat.”

“(Y/n)! Hold your tongue, she’s your new sister.”

“She might be your daughter but that thing is not my sister.”

He doesn’t seem convinced as he continues putting you together with her in hopes it will strengthen your bond

It does not

And it will never be as your father succumbs to his illness

Naturally, you prepare to take on the throne despite your young age

But alas nothing goes the way it should since she’s been forced into your life

“As the former partner of the King, I gladly will take up the role until our child is ready.”

It’s infuriating as the advisor reads a part in his newly written will about this

How he ordained that his second wife have you in her care and the kingdom in her control

And of course decency dwindles as she becomes drunk on the social power

Fueling her gremlin of a daughter

“Mother’s forbidden you from leaving your room. So I figured I’d give you some of my company! You're welcome.”

“Go jump out the window.”

“How dare–MOM!”

It just gets worse and worse

You do think for a moment things will get better as The substitute Queen keels over her wine at a banquet

Thanking the heavens for whoever poisoned her, you’re prepared to take the throne

“I am so sorry (Y/n) but the council has ruled that for your safety as the kingdom’s only true heir, it’d be dangerous to let you take the throne. So we’ll give the role of Queen to Harley.”

It takes you everything not to stab the brat as she puffs her chest and flips her hair

“Won’t you congratulate me on my coronation!”

It’s agony that ripples under your skin as you have no choice but to flee the castle grounds to escape her stabbing presence and that only works for a day at most

With her mother no longer ruling she isn’t forced to take etiquette lessons away from you

Now she can demand your attendance for any minor meeting

“I don’t think we should mobilize our militia on that border. It’s far too much of an overreaction.”

“What about the villages that have been burned there? The people who need medical attention?”

“Hush (Y/n) I didn’t say you could talk in this meeting.”

It's all so frustrating feeling trapped

But you’re not the only one 

Harley is incredibly frustrated because of what keeps her trapped

And that’s her inability to say anything that she truly means

Especially with manners of the heart

Underneath layers of cruel insults, stifling rules, and personal jabs 

Is a step-sister who adores your very being but is stuck with her thorny exterior

She is forced to stick her nose up and sneer at you when you look her direction

When she’ll say “You look like death with the new family brooch. You might do better to just leave it off.”

What she means “I think you look even more gorgeous than usual with the family brooch, don’t ever take it off.”

If she wasn’t as backward demented as she was it probably wouldn’t be so hard to try being nice

To switch her compliments to insults for just a day to give you a kind compliment

But she hates actually making it so that

Naturally, this is why she killed her mother

She’d gotten in the way of her free time with you 

On top of looking down on you which she absolutely hates the most

Granted she’s certain you hate her with how much time she spends attempting to bring you down expressing her affection the only way she can

Sometimes she’s tempted to put it in writing 

just explain her condition so that she can jump into your arms as you connect the dots

But every time she’d written something out, she couldn’t help but confess how obsessed she was with you 

How happy she was that her whole job now was protecting you

She wasn’t exactly fond of the kingdom other than it being an inheritance for you

She hopes you’ll forgive her as she’ll  prioritize you and your safety above all else

No one but your father’s trusted advisor may see past her biting personality

Convinced with the council that it’s best to have her temporarily rule

If only until they get to the bottom of both the King and the Queen’s deaths

Should any council member question her or her motives 

she’d be quick to shut that down

She can’t have these old nobles get in the way of her dominion over you

“I hope you enjoy the joys of being accused of fraud. It’ll be nice to look back on your time when on the council when you’re rotting in jail.”

She has no mercy for anyone but you

[shaisuki]

｡‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧｡ ─── MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.

when toji entered his shared home with you — he can hear the crying of his son. it hasn't stop since he left to get the medicine prescribed by his son's pediatrician. fever was it.

soft footsteps echoing in the floor. toji removing his coat and went to your bedroom. there he sees you. standing in front of the window. moonlight shining through it giving you a halo effect on you. he would be awestruck at you but his son's wailing had been relentless.

his baby with you, flushed skin with tears rolling endlessly in his chubby cheeks. a fever relief pad for babies pasted in his forehead to ease the heat of his fever. he watched as you cooed, rub the back of your baby but still it was useless.

toji sighs. it was rough. it wasn't all shit and giggles when parenting and seeing his baby isn't laughing or doing the same thing all over again plus you. exhaustion visible in your face and tiredness all over your body tending to his little boy. you didn't even notice him and before toji could take a step he hears you hum before you began to sing a familiar tune you always sing when you were pregnant with megumi.

“moon, a hole of light~” you began to sing the first verse and megumi's wailing turn to sniffles upon hearing your voice. the tears rolling in his cheeks turning into drops like dew in leaves after rain. the song hasn't been sung since your pregnancy and megumi stares at you wide eyed. the green in his irises similar to his father turning into one of calmer one.

you raised megumi to distract him while you continue to sing. “cause my love is mine, all mine~” his fingers making grabby motions to you and toji is entranced how you manage to calm your sick baby. “i love mine, mine, mine~” your voice soft. singing the song like a lullaby intended to heal the sick and mend broken hearts and the scarred man gazing at his son and especially to his wife can't help but to feel warm and giddy inside.

“nothing in the world belongs to me~” you continue to sing. your baby eyes wide while he stares at his mother. “but my love mine, all mine, all mine~” placing your son's body in your chest and his head into your shoulder. his breathing softening with hiccups. your palm rubbing his back to soothe the ache and megumi thankfully calmed down. sighing a small smile graces in your lips before bestowing a chaste kiss to his head. hair spiky and you softly laugh imagining how toji would look with his hair spiked up.

you began to sing the second verse and then you turned around to see toji. “my baby, here on earth~” he can see the words forming in your lips added by your angelic voice and he didn't know if he could love you better when you look at him to sing the words intended for him. “showed me what my heart was worth~....” the volume of your voice decreasing not breaking eye contact with your husband and then you greeted him. “toji.”

“megumi finally calmed down but the fever is still there. hopefully it'll be gone by morning.” you say. rocking back and forth to further your baby's comfort. “let me take it from here.” extending his arms and you slowly placed your baby in his. toji isn't good at it. stabbing a man's head is easier than carrying his blood and flesh but toji tries. be a good father and husband in which his father wasn't. it's different now. he thinks to himself. he wasn't alone. he have you and toji intended to make it this way until.... forever.

you rest your head in his shoulder while your hands softly brush megumi's hair. checking his temperature with worry etched in your face. “our child is strong.” toji comforts you. another feat he doesn't know he's capable of and the word our. you and him with your pride and joy resting in his chest. “he is.” smiling softly at your baby.

toji peered at you. his wife stronger than anything else. caring and loving with the voice that can touch one's very soul. calms the storms in its wake and toji thinks back on what good deed he must had done to deserve you. to deserve this life but nothing else matters with you and his life and this little brat.

and toji knows that he doesn't have love in him but now, he have and he intends to have it. to give it to you until there's nothing left in him cause his love didn't exist without you in his life.

[beetlejuicyy]

based on Hashira Training Arc ep. 5; I can't get this week's episode off my mind

w/c: 1.1k

find me on AO3 | masterlist

divider @enanet

summary: As Sanemi's wife, you try not to intervene in his relationship with his little brother. However, he had crossed the line this time.

Sanemi's favorite moment of the day was exactly now, during these two short hours at sunset, right after dinner. His day was full of training the demon slayer corps while his night was dedicated to his own training, fighting fellow hashira. That left exactly two hours in between for you, his wife. You were gone for most of the day lately, since training so many people was turning his yard into a battlefield, loud and dirty. You also knew he was rather harsh in his teachings, so it was best to give him space to do his duty while minding your own business.

"What's wrong with you?" Sanemi finally asked when you refused to let him lay his head on your lap.

It was the usual unwinding ritual of his day, eat your delicious food and relax under your touch, his features softened, his voice gentle, his touch careful and loving. But today you seemed cold. He tried to ignore all the signs until you put a book in your lap, just as he was sitting down next to you on the porch. This was Sanemi's last straw.

"What is wrong with you?!" You've never been this angry with him, at least you've never showed it so far. After the terrible day he had this was the last thing he needed, a moody wife.

"You're the one barely talking." Sanemi pointed out. He picked the book from your lap and put it away, annoyed. "You're the one choosing a stupid book instead of your husband."

"How was training today, Sanemi?" You asked, at last. It was the first question you asked him everyday, although the tone was different now. Accusing, angry and patronizing.

"Thanks for asking." He inssisted on expressing his bitterness before answering. "It was great."

"Was the part where you almost blinded your little brother for life great?"

Shock took over your husband's appearance, as his eyes widened, his hand frozen in the air, not daring to touch you anymore. You never got into their fights. Fight was a word not so suited for their relationship anyway. You tried to understand that Sanemi's behaviour was rooted in his own trauma while still trying to console and protect Genya as much as you could. But today, when Tanjiro of all people approached you on your way back home to tell you, you couldn't withstand it any longer.

"So the brat finally started snitching on me?"

The weight of your palm would have left a large red spot on his cheek if Sanemi wouldn't have swiftly caught your wrist when you almost slapped him. Tears were blurring your vision but you didn't want to let them fall. So you yanked your hand away from his grip, sniffing and trying to hold them back. Your husband had no idea how he was supposed to act, so he stood there, guilt and pity intertwined in his eyes as looked at you.

"Genya admires you the most, you idiot!" You wiped your tears away as you spoke. "He would never tell me anything bad about you, no matter how poorly you treat him." Sanemi's eyes could only dart towards the floor, his hands clenched in tight fists. "He only has you, how can you tell him you have no little brother? How can you seriously attack him? You know you're much stronger. How can you tell him to quit? All he wants is to be like you!" Accusations flew out of your mouth like daggers, stabbing him one after the other, forcing him to remember and see his actions from another point of view. "Have you..." Your voice broke off halfway as you voiced your  last thought, and your pain made him look up at you, worried. "Have you no heart?" You couldn't contain your tears anymore. Not when your mind was full of the contradiction between the man that was your husband and the man that was an older brother. How could he be so patient, so loving, so considerate with you yet be such a monster towards his own little brother?

A loud voice inside Sanemi's head was screaming to comfort you, to reassure you that he had a heart indeed and it all of it belonged to you. But, as small and helpless as you looked compared to his bigger, stronger build, he didn't dare to get closer to you. He didn't dare to move one finger. The time that was supposed to be the happiest of his day turned into painful silence, as you wiped your tears away and he was left to reflect on his actions. The sun was almost gone from the sky. The darker it got you remembered that Obanai was probably already waiting for your husband for their usual night training. 

"Don't you have anything to say?" You asked, afraid that Sanemi might actually leave without a word, making it even harder to reach him later when he would return. He wasn't good with expressing his feelings and towards you he would refrain from saying anything, scared that his poor choice of words would do more harm. But silence was even more harming.

"He needs to get stronger. I can't babysit him on the battlefield."

"You're not babysitting him at all." You sneered at him. However, his low voice and his effort to contain himself in front of you made your heart melt. He could be better, only if he tried.

"He can't weild a sword properly. He said he even ate demons."

"Don't you think it takes so much courage and strenght to do these things?"

Sanemi looked at you bewildered, his entire concept of strength crushing down inside his mind as you pointed out the obvious, the truth that was right in front of him but he was too blind, too caught up in his own world to see. He only sighed in defeat. His wife outsmarted him once again.

It was getting late and you still had to clean the table and tidy around before going to sleep. As you sat up and passed by him on your way, Sanemi caught you by the wrist. His gesture reminded you immediately of the previous moment when you almost slapped him, regret washing over you.

"Can I hold you for a moment?" He mumbled like a scolded child, not sure if he deserved it anymore. You pulled him in and his toned arms wrapped around your legs, his cheek pressed against your belly. You ran your hand through his hair as you felt the strong, almost desprate grip he had on you, like he was afraid you would leave. You didn't forgive him yet. But that could wait a few more moments. As his face nuzzled against the soft fabric of your clothes you realized he was still a big child in a man's body, unsure how to handle anything other than fighting.

"Sanemi." Contrary to the gentle touch of your fingers in his hair, your voice was stern. "Promise me you'll fix this when you come back."

He only nodded against your body before pulling away completely. Only after he was long gone you noticed the tears that left wet spots on your clothes.

next》》 Yearning | Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

[holylulusworld]

Bucky & Ducky (2) - Warming up

Summary: Bucky Barnes. Ruthless mafia boss. Soft only for his wife and…well, Ducky.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Side pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ducky the duck

Warnings: mafia business, fluff, unusual friendship

A/N: Thanks to @buck-star for the idea and brainstorming with me. I did it…😅

Bucky & Ducky Masterlist

Catch up here: Part 1

“Can you believe that punk dared to threaten my business, Ducky?” Bucky walked out of the bathroom to get ready to join you for dinner. After taking a relaxed bath, he hastily got out of the tub. He considered leaving Ducky alone in the tub but decided against it.

Only to make sure the duckling won’t poop into the tub or drown, he told himself.

He put the duckling on a fluffy towel and watched it clumsily wiggle on top of the towel, trying to escape while he got dressed. Bucky chuckled when the duckling started to tug at the towel angrily.

“No escaping, punk,” he said, and stepped toward the bed to look down at the tiny and vulnerable duckling. “You didn’t have an easy life, huh? They wanted to get rid of you because you were the weakest.”

Somehow, Bucky felt sorry for the duckling. No one gave Ducky a chance until now.

“You got lucky, punk. Y/N loves to save hopeless cases. She took me home too, one night, after someone stabbed me behind her bakery.”

Ducky lifted its head to look up at the tall mobster. It seems as if the little creature was listening to Bucky’s story. “It was only a scratch, but she turned full nurse, and that was when I fell in love with her. Y/N is too good for me and so sweet. So, if you want to stay here, you better not break her heart.”

“Buck? Baby?” You called from downstairs. “Baby, did you fall asleep in the bathtub? Do you want to eat in bed?”

“We are coming, doll,” Bucky immediately answered. You heard his footsteps get closer and hurriedly walked inside the dining room to check on the food.

“In here,” you called for your husband. He allowed you to keep the duckling so you would pay him back with a romantic candlelight dinner. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Uh—me too,” Bucky walked inside the dining room, Ducky in his arms. He put one of the fuzzy socks you bought for him around the duckling’s small body to keep Ducky warm. “I think he doesn’t want to be alone.”

“He?” You pressed one hand to your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. “Oh, the duckling.” Nodding, you pointed at the food. “Maybe we should find a box for him or…”

“No, no. I think he should sit with me. We don’t want him to believe we will abandon him too,” Bucky hastily said. He stepped closer to softly kiss your cheek. “The food looks good, baby doll. Thank you.”

You were stunned by his words. Bucky Barnes wanted to have dinner with a duckling by his side. “No, thank you, Bucky.” You return the kiss, giggling as he purrs your name. “You’re the best.”

Bucky smiled. He loves hearing you think highly of him. Not because it strokes his ego. No. It simply tells him that he’s not the bad guy he believes he is.

“Let’s eat,” you pointed at the food. “We don’t want the food to get cold.”

As you sat down, you watched Bucky claim his favorite seat. The one right next to yours. He carefully placed Ducky on the table. Bucky wrinkled his forehead as the duckling threatened to tip sideways.

“Punk, be careful,” he shrugged his jacket off to make a bed for Ducky out of the expensive fabric. Bucky carefully put the duckling in the middle, humming as Ducky quacked loudly. “Did you drink shampoo or something?” Your husband grinned. “I bet you tried my whiskey.”

You giggled at their interaction. “It seems you already became friends.”

“He’s cool, for a helpless duckling,” Bucky said and dug his fork into the food. “I guess we can keep him. Just to make sure he doesn’t end in a pan.”

“Bucky!” You scolded your husband. “Don’t say things like that in front of him. He’s a baby!”

“Ducky is a ruthless mobster,” Bucky retorted. He glanced at the duckling while chewing on the first bite of the food. “He only needs a chance.”

You smiled softly as Bucky talked to the duckling. “Hmm…we should get you something warm to wear. Maybe shoes too. Your feet will hurt if you waddle around barefoot all day.”

“Ducky got feathers. I don’t think he needs more, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded but glanced at the duckling. “No, I think he needs clothes. We don’t want him to freeze, right?”

“Right,” you giggled as the duckling wiggled on top of Bucky’s jacket. It seemed like Ducky tried to get closer to your husband. It made a fuss, quaking loudly, until Bucky carefully grabbed him and placed him on his lap.

“There you go, Ducky,” Bucky softly cooed to make sure to not scare the tiny duckling. “I’m going to take good care of you.”

Tags in reblog.

[violetbutterflix]

Kiss and make, kiss, kiss and make up

Character: Osamu Dazai.

Warnings: beast!dazai, dazai and reader are married, sub!dazai, dom!reader, make up sex, pegging, dazai cries and moans, mentions of multi verses and beast manga spoilers.

☆Being the wife of the Port Mafia boss has pros and cons, just like two sides of a coin. Sure, your husband is the richest and most feared man alive, and he can get you everything you desire without any problem. Just say the words, and they will be yours. However, it's not material possessions that your heart craves, but rather his presence.

The clock strikes two in the morning so quietly that nobody in the bedroom can hear it. You can hear your own breath as you lie on the bed, eagerly waiting for your husband's arrival. But nothing happens; the bedroom door knob remains closed and untouched on the other side. No sounds of footsteps approach. You bite your lip bitterly, thinking about the last time you saw him. The last time he was here with you—his arms around your waist, his mouth on yours, your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as you fell asleep on his body.

How many nights have you spent waiting for him to come back home, yearning for a warm embrace and kisses, only to be met with loneliness and disappointment? Every day, you wake up, hoping to see him, yet he’s never there. The other side of the bed is empty and cold. It has been a month of this pattern, and you haven’t seen him once. It makes you sick to your stomach. You reach for your phone, hoping for a new message from him, but there’s nothing. The last message you sent is still there, marked as ‘seen.’ You sigh; you can’t do this anymore.

—

“Osamu…” You called his name, the sound escaping your lips in a bittersweet way. The man in front of you smiled softly, waiting to hear what you had to say. His eyes are a dull, pure black, yet there is a light of hope at the bottom of them whenever you're around.

“Yes, bella?”

You take a long, deep breath before continuing, your eyes fixed on the table. You can’t look into his eyes at this moment. “I… I think we should take a break.”

Dazai drops the drink in his hand, and the glass shatters into pieces on the floor, creating a loud sound. You can feel his eyes on you, suffocating you with that silence. One second, two seconds, three seconds… Three long seconds pass, yet not a single word escapes his lips.

Your eyes glance up, and—gosh—you’ve never seen Dazai with that expression before. His pupils are dilated with disbelief, and his face carries a hurtful look, as if you’ve betrayed him again countless times. You—his world—seem to be destroyed all at once cruelly.

Dazai's lips part slightly, finally being able to speak. “Why?”

The simple yet painful question stabs at both of you, an unpleasant ache spreading through you as you try to explain your reasons. “I… I don’t feel like we should be together anymore. I’m tired. You don’t pay attention to me anymore. You've buried yourself in work for so long that you don’t care for me.”

A frown appears on his handsome face, disapproving of your accusation. If only you knew how much he cares about you-how much he loves you in every universe. How much he hates being the leader of a dangerous organization but he has no other choices. He does all of this for you.

“But that’s my job. Being a Port Mafia boss is never easy. I have my responsibilities—”

“Then what about your responsibility as a husband? What about me?”

“[Reader]…Please.”

The word 'please' from him sounds so desperate, something you’d never expect him to say. Desperately, he adds more, trying to please you so your sorrow will go away, like a hopeless little boy begging for forgiveness and redemption for his wrongdoing.

“I’ll do anything for you; I’ll give you the world. Just name your price, Bella. Please…”

“I only want my husband..I don’t need anything else.” You admit, which makes Dazai smile a little until he hears the next line.

“But since you said you’d do anything…” An idea suddenly runs through you—a risky plan that feels almost too good to ignore. This opportunity could be your one and only chance. How can you possibly let such an offer slip away? Before you realize it, the words are freed from your mind. “Then I want to peg you.”

A simple sentence from your pretty lips makes your husband pause. Dazai stares at you, his expression unsure and confused. He didn’t expect this from you on a Sunday night. Dinner is where you can talk about every topic in the world, but that so casually?

Oblivious to his confusion, your face remains serious. “I said what I said.”

“May I get to know why?”

“I just do. So…Please?”

Dazai hesitates a little. No, it's not because he doesn't want that, it's just he's not sure and he's not too fond of the idea. But he does want to make up for you for the time he has been gone, he can't bring himself to oppose you. So, he lets the ‘best’ of him agree.

—

Dazai finds himself beneath you, naked, just like the day he was born. His face buries against the pillow, gripping the bed sheet as he waits for you. A small kiss is planted on his dark hair as a finger slowly enters his hole to create a gasp from him. A sudden urge to tell you more grows inside him, yet he’s too prideful to admit it.

“Let me hear your pretty sounds, Osamu.” You whisper against his ear, continuing to finger him at a slow pace to test his patience.

A small moan slips out from his lips: “Ah…[Reader]...mph...”

At his cute and pathetic plea, you add another finger and then follow by another one to stretch his tight hole, causing his entire body to twitch. Dazai bites his lips to prevent any loud moans due to embarrassment, but fails. He has always been the one in control, but the sudden switch between you two and you're ruining him completely makes him feel surprisingly good.

Your fingers pump in and out at a faster and harder pace repeatedly, hitting the spot to make him squirm. Just before he hits his orgasm, you pull your fingers away. Dazai turns his head over his shoulder, whining and sulking. Before he can complain, you swiftly push your strap into him. He lets out a muffled yelp of surprise, his eyes widening in shock as the sudden force pushes him back onto the pillow. Your free hand grabs both of Dazai’s hands, gripping his wrists above his face as you move your hips back and forth, fucking him crazy like a wild, starved beast devouring its captured prey.

Your lips travel to his ear, biting on his earlobe as you eagerly thrust deep inside him while your hand drops down his chest, playing and rubbing his nipple. Your hips crash against Dazai’s ass, causing his moans to get louder between each thrust. Your hand switches to his other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the other one. His back arches at a perfect angle, plus his long legs are spread wide open for you to fuck him more and better.

After you’ve abused his sensitive nipples, your hand travels down to his cock. Your hand perfectly wraps around Dazai’s cock, caressing it before you mumble against his ear. “Such a good boy for me, taking my dick so well.” Your lips reach his shoulder, taking a bite of his pale skin as you rapidly stroking his dick.

Dazai’s head rolls back as he moans your name shamelessly over and over, as if you were the only thing his mind could think.

“You’re so beautiful like this. A beautiful mess because of me. Am I the only one gets to see you and fuck you like this?”

“F-fuck y-yes. Only my dear wife…ah…mph…gets to see me like this and fuck me as much as she wants.” Dazai curses; his eyes flutter close as he tries his best to speak between moans. The pleasure builds inside him more and more, filling him fully. “Gonna c-cum…I’m gonna cum…”

“Yeah? Cum for me, Samu. Let me hear you scream my name and how good my dick is.”

Tears are formed on his reddened cheeks when he cums on your hand, painting his stomach and up to his chest with hot, thick, creamy cum as he screams your name out loud so that it can wake up the neighbors. Your strap continues to enter deep inside him, and the way the harness rubs against your cunt this entire time is enough to make you cum as well. Dazai collapses straight into bed, breathing heavily after his afterglow.

Dazai turns his head over, looking at you affectionately with tears falling down the corners of his eyes. “I love you, [Reader], more than anything in this world. I’m sorry that I wasn’t around much. But I’ll try to spend more time with you. So please don't ever doubt my love for you ever again.

Your lips curl to a smile. “I know…I love you too, my dear husband.”

The way you call him ‘dear husband’ brings an indescribable feeling of happiness to his heart. In this cruel world, where his life is filled with darkness and misfortune, you are his only hope—the reason he cherishes his life and the one and only treasure he protects with all he has. He brings his hand to your pretty face, caressing your cheek before it moves down to your neck, pulling you close for a kiss. He kisses you as if it were the last day of his life, as if this were the final kiss you two would ever share.

[xomakara]

Wanted Dead Or Alive

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | A handsome cowboy is injured while tending to a wild horse he's rescued miles from town. You're on the run, and can't afford to stop on your way to your destination – but you can't ignore the wounded man when you see him, and decide to help him despite the personal risk.

PAIRING | Mingi x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS | Cowboy!Mingi, Heiress!Reader, Western au, non-idol au, smut (with some plot), consensual sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), slight fingering, dirty talk, pet names (darlin', sweetheart, etc), praise kink, bathtub sex, bed sex, gunfights, mentioned abuse

RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI

LENGTH | 7,929 words

TAGLIST |  --

NETWORKS |  @cromernet (reuploaded so only tagging nets that haven't reblogged it yet)

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Excuse me, while I go bathe myself in holy water.

You can't help but spur the horse forward, your heart thudding in your chest. It had been hours, but the adrenaline was still running rampant in your system, your stomach clenching with dread.

You could hear the sound of hooves, and your body was tense and tight as you pulled the reins, hoping the sound wasn't heading toward you.

It had all started when you woke up with your ex-husband's hands around your throat, a wild look in his eyes. He'd seemed desperate and he had looked at you with an unfamiliar expression as he tightened his grip.

The memory of his hands squeezing the air out of your throat, the burning in your lungs as he tried to squeeze the life out of you. The memory had tears springing into your eyes, and you swallowed them back, forcing the panic away.

He had almost succeeded, if not for the fact that you were more desperate to live than he was for you to die.

You'd fought him with everything you had, and with the steak knife that you hid under your pillow, you stabbed him in the hand so that you could breathe.

And then you ran.

You had a small fortune that you'd stashed away, and you had a bag packed for days like this.

It wasn't enough to keep you safe for very long, but it was enough to get you where you needed to go, and it was enough to keep you warm, and fed and hidden from prying eyes.

You had planned to slip out of town under the cover of darkness and disappear. You'd heard that it was possible to disappear entirely, to leave the country, and you were prepared to do it.

You had no ties, no one waiting for you, nothing to keep you in town except for the fear of being found.

The sun is rising over the horizon, and you know you should probably stop for a rest, but you don't think you can.

You want to keep moving until you can't anymore.

You know there are men on your trail. They're not smart enough to keep up with you, but you know they're going to follow you for as long as it takes.

They'd followed you to this little town, and you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you again.

And they wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted.

You know it was the money they were after.

After all, your family had a lot of it, and your husband had known about it and had wanted to get his hands on it for some time.

That's why he married you.

Sure he was rich and everyone knew it. But with the way that he spent it, he was drying out his funds, and he knew that if he didn't find some source of income, he'd be destitute within the year.

He wouldn't tell anyone, oh no, that would damage his reputation.

Instead, he'd taken a loan and used that loan to buy the nicest ring that he could afford.

And then he'd gone and found himself a rich wife.

He'd been careful in his planning. He'd been charming and he'd made you feel things you'd never felt before. He charmed his way to get your parents' favor, and they'd approved of him almost immediately.

The wedding had been the biggest social event that had happened in town in a long time.

But it didn't matter how well the two of you were liked, because your ex-husband didn't know how to stop spending, and now people were beginning to talk.

And they were beginning to ask questions.

You had been his perfect cover, his perfect alibi, and now that he was losing his power and prestige, he wanted to keep the one thing that was left to him.

And that was the money.

You didn't mind giving him the money, he'd been good to you, and he'd loved you, and had cared for you. But when the love turned to abuse, and the care turned to control, you decided you were better off without him.

So, you left him. Divorced him.

And now he was coming after you, and after the money.

He would not stop until he got what he wanted.

And neither would the men that were chasing you.

Your horse had been galloping for hours, and you were starting to slow down. Your body was sore, and your legs were cramping, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

You could hear them getting closer, and it made your blood run cold.

Your eyes scanned the horizon, looking for a place where you could stop. Somewhere you could hide, maybe.

There was a corpse of trees not too far from the road, and you veered towards them, hoping that they were thick enough to hide you from the men who were pursuing you.

And then you see him.

Tall and handsome, leaning against the side of a tree, holding his side. His head is tipped back, his face twisted with pain, and you feel your heart drop at the sight.

You pull your horse to a stop, your hands trembling. You're afraid. You're so scared. But you can't just leave him there, bleeding.

He's a big guy, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, but right now, he looks so small.

He opens his eyes, and his gaze finds yours. His eyes are dark, and you can see the pain in them.

He lifts his hand, and he waves at you.

"Hey there, little lady." Voice hoarse and gravelly. "Looks like I could use a bit of help."

You couldn't help but dismount your horse and carefully walk up to him. "What happened to you?"

His face twists and his shoulders rise as he inhales deeply. "Long story short, I got shot trying to round up some horses for Ol' Man Kim. A bullet got lodged in my side. I ain't sure if it went clean through, but I need a doctor. I can't make it to town."

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. "I can't take you into town, Mister. I can't afford to draw attention to myself."

He gives you a strange look. "Why would that draw attention to yourself? Do you have a criminal record or somethin'?"

You shake your head. "No. It's a lot more complicated than that. It's a long story."

"You can make it short like I did mine."

You laugh softly, your heart skipping a beat. He has a nice smile, and he's even more handsome when he laughs. "Okay. Well, long story short, I'm on the run. My ex-husband is trying to kill me for my money. And some other guys are after me. I can't stop here or else I'm putting myself at risk. I have to keep moving."

He studies you for a moment, his dark eyes boring into yours. "If you're willing, I could be of some assistance. I'm good with a gun, and I can keep you safe."

"But you're injured, mister."

"It's just a flesh wound. I can still use a gun. If you're worried, I can ride along with you, and when we get to the next town, I'll find a doctor. Until then, I'll watch your back. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. "Why would you do that? You look like the type that would rob me instead."

"Nah, I may be a cowboy but I don't harm women and children." He reaches out his hand, palm up, a kind smile on his face. "I'll protect you, Miss. And when I'm healed up, I'll help you get to wherever it is that you're going."

You swallow, unsure if you should trust him or not. But he seems like a decent guy, and you could use all the help you could get.

"I don't know..." You bit your bottom lip. "I can't afford to pay you right now..."

"That's alright." He smiles again, and it's a reassuring smile. "I don't need any money. Just some help."

You hesitate, your heart racing. "Okay."

He grins. "Well, alright then. What's your name, miss?"

"Y/N."

"Mingi. A pleasure to meet ya."

"Likewise." You nod and walk towards your horse, taking hold of his reins. "You think you can get up on your own, Mingi?"

"Sure thing." Mingi grunts and pushes himself away from the tree, his hand clutching at his side. He takes a few steps, his face twisted in pain. He staggers and nearly falls, but you're quick enough to catch him before he hits the ground.

You grunt and strain to keep him upright. "Easy there."

He looks down at you, and you can see the embarrassment and pain in his eyes.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Just lean on me, and we'll get you up on the horse. We're not going very far, and I think I saw a doctor a few miles back."

Mingi nods and takes a deep breath. You can't help but notice that his hair is messy and windswept, and his clothes are rumpled. Despite that, he was still very handsome.

You put your arms around his waist and help him climb onto the horse.

"Thank you." He says, his voice soft.

"You're welcome." You reply a small smile on your face.

You can't help but notice the way his broad shoulders taper into a narrow waist. He has the build of a man who does hard work for a living, and his dark brown eyes are bright and clear. He's the first man who's been honest and kind to you in a long time.

As you climb onto the horse, Mingi wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You feel safe and secure, and you can't help but notice how his arms feel around you.

His scent is warm and masculine, and you feel yourself relaxing into him.

"We should get going." You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"Right," Mingi says and nudges the horse forward.

As you ride away, you can't help but notice the way he tightens his arms around you, and how his lips brush against your ear.

You shiver, and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you, and the safety you feel in his embrace.

For the first time in a long time, you feel hopeful.

You arrived in the small town that you passed a few miles back and the first thing that caught your eye was a doctor's office.

Mingi had been quiet the whole ride. The pain must have been intense. You pulled your horse to a stop and quickly dismounted. You helped Mingi off the horse and slowly made your way into the building, his tall frame leaning on you.

"I need a doctor! Now!" You shouted and looked around the waiting room.

"Please wait your turn." A woman, who looked like a nurse, muttered as she sat at a desk looking over some papers.

"Ma'am, please get the doctor or help me." Mingi softly said, the woman looking up at him. Mingi smiled down at you, his face pale. "My little wife here is worried and I'd hate to see her cry."

The woman blushed, and got up from her desk, quickly hurrying down the hall.

"Wife?" You questioned.

"She'll give us priority. Trust me." He softly grinned at you. "It's easier to get what we want this way."

"How's that fair to the other patients?"

"Life's not fair, sweetheart."

"You're lucky that I find you charming." You huffed.

"You find me charming? Well, aren't you sweet?"

"Shut up." You softly chuckled and rolled your eyes.

"Sir, ma'am, follow me." The nurse came back into the waiting room and ushered you down the hall and into an examination room.

After some time, Mingi was patched up, and per the doctor's orders, you had to stay a few nights in town. You were worried about the men that were following you but Mingi assured you that you would be safe.

"So, where are we staying?"

"With a friend of mine."

"Friend?"

"Yep. He'll take good care of us. He owes me a favor and it's his fault that I got shot in the first place."

"Is it Ol' Man Kim, you mentioned before?"

Mingi nodded. "Just don't call him old. He's only a year older than me but I like to mess with him. We grew up together and we've always had each other's backs."

"He sounds like a good friend."

"He's one of the best." Mingi grinned, the pain meds kicking in.

"Alright, well, we better get going then." You sighed and helped Mingi get out of bed. "The doctor said that the medicine will probably make you drowsy."

"I'll be fine. Let's go."

You helped Mingi back to your horse and got him situated on the saddle.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Where to?"

"Kim's place. It's not far from here."

"Alright." You mounted your horse and started heading out of town.

You rode for a few hours, the sun beginning to set. You were about to suggest that you should camp somewhere for the night, but Mingi told you to continue straight ahead.

"This is a long stretch of nothing, are you sure we're heading the right way?"

"Yes. Keep going, the house should come into view soon."

"Okay." You said, keeping the horse moving.

It was growing darker, and the air was getting colder.

"Mingi, we really should stop and rest. We can continue tomorrow."

"Not yet. We're almost there. Keep going."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright."

You continued to ride, the sky turning darker.

"I'm getting worried, Mingi. It's getting too dark to ride safely."

"Don't worry. The house should be coming up soon."

"Okay."

The moon was high in the sky and the stars were shining brightly.

You were about to give up and insist on making camp when a large house appeared in the distance.

"See? Told you."

"Well, I'll be damned." You sighed.

"It's not much, but it's home."

You followed Mingi's directions and guided the horse to the front door.

"Who's there?" A man opened the door, pointing his rifle at the both of you.

"Calm down, you old fart. It's just me." Mingi waved his hand at the man.

"Mingi?" The man lowered his rifle and squinted his eyes at him. "What the hell happened to you, man?"

"Got shot trying to wrangle up your horses, that's what." Mingi joked before looking at you. "This little lady here helped me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name, Miss." The man smiled at you.

"Y/N."

"Nice to meet ya. Name's Hongjoong. You can call me Joong."

"Joong, this little lady needs our help. She's running from some bad people." Mingi leaned his head against your back, his voice sounding groggy.

"Bad people?" Hongjoong questioned, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Yes. My ex-husband is trying to kill me." You explained. "He's hired people to come after me. I've been on the run for months now."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Y/N."

"Thank you."

"Mingi, why don't you take Miss Y/N and get settled in while I bring your horse to the stable."

"Okay."

Mingi helped you down from the horse, his arms wrapping around your waist as he slowly lowered you to the ground.

"Careful." You softly spoke, helping him down from the horse.

"Thank you, darling." Mingi smiled.

"You two, get inside and get warmed up. I'll take care of the horse." Hongjoong took the reins and led the horse to the stable.

You helped Mingi inside, the two of you entering the large ranch house. You placed Mingi on the couch before taking a look around the house. It was simple but cozy, and it smelled like vanilla and pine.

"Make yourself at home. Joong won't be long." Mingi leaned back against the cushions.

"Thank you." You smiled and went back over to him, sitting on the couch next to him.

You studied his features, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. He looked so peaceful, and you couldn't help but admire his beauty.

"What are you thinking about?" Mingi suddenly asked, opening his eyes and looking at you.

"Nothing. Just how handsome you are." You admitted.

"Well, thank you, darlin'." He smiled. "You're pretty yourself. Real pretty."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you decided to stop and help me. I owe you my life."

"You're welcome." You smiled and leaned back against the cushions.

"So tell me your story," Mingi muttered. "Why is your husband out to get ya? Is it just for the money or is there something else?"

"It's a long story, Mingi." You sighed, a frown forming on your face.

"I got all night, sweetheart." He smiled, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. "C'mon. Indulge me, please."

You rolled your eyes. "You're lucky you're hurt. You're being very cheeky."

Mingi laughed, his dimpled cheek pressed against the cushions as he closed his eyes. "I am indeed. Tell me about ya. About yer marriage."

"What's to tell?" You shrugged, leaning back against the sofa and closing your eyes. "I met a man I thought would take care of me. He charmed me and my family but in reality, all he ever wanted was my money. Because he was on the verge of being broke." You began, re-living the memories. "At first, he treated me nice and it was wonderful, until it wasn't. It was his love language, lavish gifts, and trips. And then all of a sudden, what I thought was love turned into abuse and control. He wanted to spend my money on everything. When I said no, things went badly and his abuse became physical."

Mingi reached out a hand to you and put it atop yours, giving a little squeeze. "That bastard. I know his type. Those were the men I robbed and stole from. The greedy ones that hurt women." He let out a sigh and laid his head back. "I was an outlaw, for a long time. Joong and I were always looking out for each other. He was the brains and I was the brawn. But, a couple of years back we fell on some rough times and realized we weren't as invincible as we thought. When Joong's mama passed, she left him this property. We went legit and bought some cattle. Things are good now but we were still doing odd jobs. Helping friends and such." He smiled.

You studied him. "You two seem close. Friends can be good to have."

Mingi smiled at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "Joong and I are good at taking care of ourselves. Never needed anyone else until now."

"Until now?" Your eyebrows raised.

He shrugged a shoulder, an eyebrow lifting. "You never know what the future holds. Better to be prepared."

Mingi chuckled and stretched his limbs.

"I like the way you think." Your lips turned upward as you spoke to him.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence. Mingi's presence brought a feeling of ease to you. A moment later, Hongjoong came through the front door and removed his boots at the entrance.

"Hey, Joongie." Mingi greeted with a sleepy smile.

"How are ya holding up?"

"Better now." Mingi looked at you with a smile on his lips.

"Hey now, don't be all flirty up in this place-"

"Don't get jealous, Joong." Mingi cut him off.

"Me, jealous of you? Hell no." Hongjoong made his way over to you and sat down on a loveseat opposite the sofa. "So Miss Y/N, you got some crazies after you? What for? You some kind of heiress to a fortune? I can't see you doing any sort of wrong."

Your face reddened a bit as the men watched you. "I uh...well you could say that. My parents are wealthy, yes, and I was married to what I thought was a wealthy man...but he was on the verge of being broke. He only wanted my money so he could fund his extravagant life. Over time, he changed and became abusive. Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore so I divorced him. Stabbed him in the hand with a steak knife and ran away. Now he's sent thugs and goons after me. As long as he can get his hands on my money, he doesn't care if I'm dead or alive."

"Unbelievable." Mingi sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Well, I have to hand it to you, Y/N. Most women wouldn't have the strength or gall to stand up to an abuser or their spouse." Hongjoong admired you.

"I have to get out of the country. That was my plan all along." You sighed. "Get out of the country and try to live quietly, like normal. Not to offend, but men like you aren't exactly low-key."

Mingi chuckled. "Good point."

"And now you're saddled with the poor cowboy you've rescued and stuck at a ranch house on the outskirts of nowhere."

'What if they come here?" You bit your bottom lip.

Hongjoong shook his head. "You don't have to worry. Mingi and I are more than capable of handling a few thugs."

"Right." Mingi smiled at you. "Now, how about some food and bed? I'm starved, wounded, and exhausted."

"As am I."

"Okay, you two." Hongjoong stood. "I'll get dinner started, so rest up."

"She's in there!" You heard yelling. "We'll kill her if we have to! Bring her here, now!"

You were thrown on your back, a male body covering yours as you blinked your eyes awake. The tall cowboy covered your body as best he could with his own, a rifle aimed and firing out the window into the night.

"Stay low," Mingi growled in your ear, a primal protective tone. He aimed the rifle once more as shouts and screams pierced the air. More gunshots and the air turned electric. He spoke to you in a hushed tone. "Do you know how to handle a gun?"

"Yeah." You had been forced to learn back with your husband and his controlling nature. You would never use a weapon to harm, though.

Mingi looked to see that you nodded, reaching over he dug in a side drawer of the dresser next to his bed and handed you a pistol.

"Just in case. Try to stay low until it's clear. But if it's an all-out war, don't be afraid. Protect yourself. I don't mind dying for something worth it and you're something worth a lot in my eyes. I promise you, you'll come out alive and whole."

You turned and locked eyes with Mingi. Mingi held eye contact for a second before hopping out of bed.

"You ready?" Mingi moved to the window and looked out over the land surrounding the home, the firelight casting an orange glow.

You swallowed your anxiety and nodded to the cowboy.

"Okay." Mingi readied his weapon and hopped up onto the window, gun first, and fired. He took cover in the window frame, a thump sounded like a body landing, but you weren't sure. You held the gun ready, gripping tight to it tight as sweat lined your palms.

There was no more yelling. Only the crackling of the fire was audible. Mingi sighed heavily. His head dropped and then you watched his chest inflate and fall quickly as his nerves calmed down.

"You good, Darlin'?" He turned his eyes to meet yours.

"I'm...okay."

"Good." He nodded. "Remember to stay low. I'll draw their attention away, then you run like hell. Head to the stables and get on one of the horses. Head to town and find Yunho, the sheriff. Hongjoong and I will be right behind you. Okay?"

You nodded. "Okay."

"Good girl." He gave your knee a light squeeze. "Stay low and quiet."

Mingi disappeared. You took a few breaths, listening to the silence. You then dropped the window and began to make your way through the house and to the stables. You heard the sounds of horses stamping the ground and snorting. You looked over and saw Hongjoong climbing through the window.

"He okay?" Hongjoong whispered, moving his head out the window and seeing Mingi wasn't following you.

"Yes." You looked at him, sadness lining your eyes and fear welling in your voice.

"Hey, he's tough. The guy has been in much worse jams and walked out unscathed. This time isn't going to be any different. Trust me." Hongjoong had his revolver out, keeping his eyes focused on any movement outside. He hoped his words were true and the Mingi was alright.

A second later you heard Mingi's boots hit the floor. You were relieved. He moved quickly to the window.

"Four men dead."

"Is that all of them?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yes. They rode in fast. Just the four men. Heard one of them saying that there's more on the way."

"Damn, you're ex-husband wasn't playing around," Hongjoong grumbled.

Mingi approached you. "Darlin', let's go."

Hongjoong looked at you. "Go with Mingi. I'll hold down the fort. This is my goddamn house after all."

He clasped Mingi on the shoulder. "Just go and get her safe."

"Yeah." Mingi nodded.

Hongjoong loaded the pistol and cocked the hammer. "This ain't goodbye forever, Miss Y/N. I promise." He saluted the pair of you with two fingers, a genuine smile on his lips. "Be safe, you two."

"Take care, Hongjoong. See you on the other side, my friend." Mingi then took your hand and led you to a horse already packed with bags. He then picked you up by your waist, lifting you as though you were nothing more than a pillow. His strength never failed to impress you and excite you at the same time. You tried to situate your skirts appropriately but decided to tear a good portion of fabric from the hem for easier mobility.

You felt Mingi swing up behind you on the horse and place an arm around you. "Hang on. We're heading on to town to get Sheriff Yunho and let him know what's going on. Then we'll head on to the next town over." Mingi clicked his tongue and kicked the horse's flanks gently with his boots and the pair of you raced off the property. You were overwhelmed and felt as though things were starting to go wrong, again. Would the nightmare ever stop? Was there no safety in the world for you? And now, you were putting a new man and his best friend into the situation. Men who weren't bound to you in any way. 

Men who owed you nothing. Who have both saved you already, when they barely even knew you. How could you thank someone for something like that?

After stopping in town and telling the sheriff what had happened and disguising yourself in men’s clothing, you and Mingi were on the road to the next town over. With Mingi behind you and one hand on the reins, you gripped the saddle and tried to focus on breathing. Your heart wouldn't slow down, and Mingi could sense how anxious you were.

"Talk to me, darlin'." Mingi patted your arm and leaned forward a little to listen.

"Oh..." You hadn't noticed until now just how tense your shoulders were.

"It's gonna be fine." Mingi's voice was warm and comforting, the complete opposite of the situation at hand.

"How can you say that?" You looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with him, tears already lining your waterline.

Mingi's breath hitched a moment when he met your gaze. It was an intense moment the two of you sharing, his large eyes drawing you in, pupils dilating ever so slightly. You were breathless when his face lowered to yours, his mouth suddenly pressing to yours in a firm yet gentle kiss. You relaxed as the shock melted away and leaned into him, Mingi's arm sliding over your waist and pulling you against him.

Your hand lifted and rested upon his broad chest. You could feel his heart thrumming away against his ribcage. A soft growl vibrated his throat when his lips parted against yours, allowing the hot sweep of his tongue to dance with yours. You were enjoying the moment, but the stress still lingered and ate away at you.

You were caught completely off-guard by Mingi's actions. Especially considering how you had only met him just a day earlier.

"Mingi..." You gasped a little, a redness spreading over your cheeks as the cowboy pulled back and smiled.

"I promise everything will be just fine, Y/N," Mingi muttered. "We'll be in town soon and on the next train out of there. Then we'll be off far west. Free from that bastard and his goons."

"You're going through all this trouble, and danger, to protect someone you don't even really know." You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling bad for endangering such a kind and wonderful man like the man behind you.

"Hey." Mingi reached over and brushed a stray tendril of hair from your face. "You're the real deal. I can tell, just by meeting you and hearing your story. Besides, this is me getting away from the life that Hongjoong and I led until just recently. This is redemption in a way, to help a pretty woman and save a good soul." Mingi moved one hand up your neck, fingers sliding along your skin making gooseflesh ripple along the trail.

"But the cost-"

"I think I know the price better than anyone. I was an outlaw, Y/N. Threw in my hand with the wrong people when I was a young idiot. Was lucky to be alive, and eventually met up with Hongoong. So I've seen all there was to see and can read people well. And, it's never too late to change and to choose the right people to surround yourself with. I've realized that I have to help others – the right way. And, besides, if I have to be in a sticky situation, I'm glad it's with someone like you."

You looked up to see Mingi staring down at you, his hands touching your waist.

Mingi grinned a bit as you seemed surprised. You were lost in his gaze for a moment, before coming back to your senses.

"Thanks."

Mingi stroked your cheek softly, admiring the details of your face for a moment, taking note of a certain spot he wouldn't mind having a chance to mark later on. Your face had a healthy dusting of sun-kissed skin that shined. Mingi stared in awe. He's known many a beautiful woman, but you were special. "Come on, darlin', we should keep moving. Should be in town soon enough."

You rode together the remainder of the way in silence. Your mind races over how the last day has unfolded, the danger the beautiful stranger was putting himself in, and the feelings stirring up in you for him. A few hours ago you didn't know him. Now you wanted to protect him and save him from danger. Was there something else driving you? Something hidden deep inside that only this kind-hearted stranger was capable of revealing?

Your mind drifted off and before you realized it, you had arrived in town. It was early morning and the streets were quiet, save a few people starting their day. After tying the horse to a post outside of the inn, Mingi gathered his rifle and your pack then helped you to the inn. After booking a room for both of you, Mingi gently grabbed you by your arm.

"Let's take it easy today, stock up on supplies, and then board the train tomorrow. Better get some rest while we can."

You nodded. Mingi rubbed your arms as your eyes fell. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything to you." His expression softened as your eyes opened and focused back on him. "Not unless you want me to."

You smiled lightly and followed Mingi upstairs to the room you both had booked. Mingi kept the rifle close to him while entering the room, scanning the area, double-checking the closet and any potential hiding places, and making sure the window was locked, before relaxing his shoulders.

"I could use a bath right now." You said as you stood next to the bed.

"My thoughts exactly." Mingi smiled lightly.

"You'd like to bathe too, I presume?" You asked him, turning to the cowboy who was removing his gloves.

"Only if it's alright with you. No worries, I'm fine to wait for another day." He rested his gun and belongings at the foot of his bed. "Wouldn't be very polite of me to invite myself. And I don't want you thinking less of me." Mingi sat on the edge of his bed and started taking his boots off.

You wanted a bath but also a partner to be with. Even after all those kisses on the road, he was still respecting you, and wanting to make sure you were comfortable with him. What a rare and wonderful man you had stumbled upon.

"Well...I'd rather like someone to...bathe with me..." The sentence slipped out as a shy request, barely above a whisper, but Mingi heard and immediately looked over his shoulder with a sweet grin.

"Is that so?"

You nodded timidly and brought your bottom lip in between your teeth as his gaze made your nerves fire up. Mingi smiled, biting his lips as well in thought and lust.

"Well alright, Darlin."

You watched Mingi cross the room and follow you to the door leading to the tub in the corner of the room. "Shall we?" Mingi gestured, his palm opening outward and he held his other palm and wrist to you.

Your hands grabbed onto his and he gave a soft reassuring squeeze before releasing a hand, opening the bathroom door, and letting you inside. The tub was large and sturdy-looking and would easily fit two people. Your back faced Mingi while you started to get undressed, as he slowly shut the bathroom door.

You kept your eyes forward, hearing Mingi undo his belt buckle, and let his gun holster drop to the floor. His shirt followed the rustle and whooshing of cloth hinted at what was happening. He stood behind you, pausing and waiting.

"You still want my help, darlin'? I'm not going to push you into doing something that makes you feel uncomfortable. If you'd rather me keep the rest of my clothes on, just say the word."

You turned with wide eyes, biting your lips at his naked chest and broad, sturdy shoulders. Mingi held a knowing, charming grin on his lips as he teased a single button open on his trousers.

"Yes." You breathed, hypnotized by the delicious sight of a gorgeous and almost nude Mingi. "Mingi...I..."

"Shh..." Mingi closed the distance between you and met your mouth, claiming your lips once again, his hand gripping your side firmly. You placed a hand over the larger, muscular one that rested upon your side. It felt incredibly soft and so strong. Your free hand started to play along the band of the loosening trousers. Mingi grunted lowly, moving your hand to slip inside the waistband of his trousers.

Your fingers gripped gently, a needy moan escaping him as you got a taste of his size.

"Fuck..." He muttered, pulling back and kissing along your neck. He groaned, then tugged your shirt up over your head and you pulled your hand back from his waist. He tossed the shirt to the side, a hand rubbing along the delicate curve of your hip and tugging down the waistband of the trousers you were wearing.

"You sure about this, Darlin?" Mingi whispered against the shell of your ear.

"Very sure." You muttered back as you kissed his neck.

Mingi hissed as your mouth sucked softly, his skin vibrating beneath the skin of his throat. He continued to lower your trouser hem, the palm of his hand skating over the naked skin of your thigh, leaving behind a trail of tingles in its wake. 

"Fuck, Darlin..." he breathed, eyes latching onto the sight of your naked hips. Your hands skated down his toned belly and played over his trousers once again.

"Lower.." he asked, his lips pecking your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek.

You complied, fingers brushing and kneading over the growing heat. Your hand pulled his length out, fingers brushing the smooth and hardened skin. Mingi released an exhale, as your thumb grazed the swollen tip of his cock, massaging the fluid that leaked from his throbbing tip.

"Christ..." He buried his nose in your hair, grunting. "We're not even in the bath yet. Fuck.. Y/N.."

"Mmm?" You teased lightly, still stroking the solid flesh gently and slowly.

He chuckled, the hand at your hip brushing gently over the juncture of your thighs, then dipping down to stroke your intimate entrance. You cried out, pressing your body tight to Mingi's while his lips attacked your throat, sucking at your collarbone.

He turned your body around, your back pressing against his front, and slowly steered you towards the waiting tub. Mingi took a seat in the steaming hot water, stretched his legs out, and carefully lifted you into his lap. You moaned at the feeling of Mingi's cock prodding your backside as he brought your hips closer to his own. Mingi growled lowly and purred as your behind settled into his lap, grinding down a little and humming at the hard, thick rod nudging your tailbone.

Mingi laughed through a moan and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your head before you felt his tongue playing with your skin. "Ready?"

"Yes." You muttered back in a gasp. "Mmmmmm..."

"No worries, Darling. You'll enjoy what I do to you." Mingi purred.

"Promise?" Your back arched in pleasure, his thumb dipping low and swiping against the delicate bundle of nerves nestled amongst the folds of your sensitive clit.

"Mmhm..." his finger slid around your inner folds, coating the digit, and he plunged inside, his lips sucking softly on your neck.

"Oooh god..." Your back arched, mouth agape, and hips bucking into the sweet feeling of Mingi's skilled hands pleasuring you.

Mingi hooked his chin on your shoulder and grinned, loving to see the effects his ministrations were causing you.

"Look at you, Darlin'." He gave a harder rub of his finger against that little nub hidden at the peak of your heat. He bit back a moan feeling you clench against his thick finger that was currently prodding your sweet wet center. He shuddered and your hips squirmed. Mingi lifted and lowered his fingers until both sank inside the hot core and massaged. Your back was arched, and a whimpered sob of utter bliss was loud and clear.

"Mingi..." The name came out breathlessly and your hands reached back to grip his forearms, the pads of your fingers gripping tightly as you turned and your eyes locked with Mingi's. Mingi pressed closer to you, lips trailing back up to the side of your neck, and claimed another hungry kiss. Your moans vibrated, Mingi growled in pleasure as he removed his fingers and snaked around you, turning you so that your legs ended up straddling his waist. Mingi sat back, the ends of his hair soaked, strands curling against the nape of his neck and temples as he watched you lower yourself on his cock.

"Just like that, beautiful. God, you feel fantastic." He muttered, reaching up to brush his lips back over yours. "How do you feel, darlin'? My size okay? Any pain? Need me to go softer or harder?"

You bit your lip, marveling at the sweetness the cowboy was treating you. Your insides squeezed, your muscles contracting and pulsating around him. A cuss of pleasure came from him as he slid up a little more, hands taking your waist, guiding you to lean back against his wet chest. The suds and bubbles moved away, exposing more of the heated contact to the cooler air.

Your nails scraped gently up Mingi's thighs and you sank further, feeling a slight resistance, but still feeling wonderful.

"Oh god, Mingi."

"I know, darlin'..." One hand rested on your hips under the water, the other cupping your breast and kneading, enjoying the warm mound beneath his palm. "Tell me, darlin'. How does this compare to your ex-husband? Be honest..." He breathed, burying his face into the back of your neck, kissing the hot skin.

"He never filled me like this...so good...so full...God..."

He ground his teeth a little, groaning through his teeth as he nipped your earlobe, keeping his eyes trained on your back and sides. You moaned, not caring how much noise you were making. Mingi leaned into you and stole another hungry kiss before whispering, "No worries, you can scream as loud as you like with me, darlin’. I'll take you harder and fill you even more."

"Yes, please. Fuck, Mingi...." Your breathless and heady voice caused Mingi's self-control to break. He thrust a little harder and gripped you tightly.

Mingi snaked an arm around the front of you, grabbing your wrist and pushing his weight to the back of you. With each thrust the water began to slosh, threatening to spill from the edges of the tub and onto the wooden floor. "Mingi-" 

The thrusts turned rough, yet there wasn't any pain. You reached out, searching and grabbing, anything, needing something to hold onto. Seeing what you needed, he repositioned you so that your breasts were now pressed against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, rocking against him. You didn't care if the water had gotten everywhere by now. Your pussy throbbed and clutched. He felt so big and you were impossibly full with him, the way his thickness was lodged inside and caressed every inch of your walls.

"Is this all you need, darlin'?" He asked. His words came out short and clipped as he panted.

Your response was only a loud mewl.

His hands pressed tight against your back, keeping you close, and the arm hooked beneath your bottom increased its grip.

You bounced upon his lap, your movements jagged, unable to do anything more. All you could do was cling to Mingi.

"There, Darlin...such a good girl for me..." He mumbled through a moan. His voice was gruff and it made your skin prickle.

"More..." you moaned back.

"Yeah? I'mma need to move this elsewhere to give you more, Darlin'." Mingi spoke against your shoulder, peppering a kiss to soothe you. His cock felt so good inside you. "Don't worry, Darlin'. I'm not done with you, yet. We still have the bedroom, and I need to have you ride me." Mingi purred while his mouth searched your body.

A throaty chuckle erupted from Mingi as he heard your cries for him.

You yelped and whined, surprised as his arms maneuvered you, and lifted you right out of the tub. The world blurred around you, Mingi's wet flesh clinging to your own. A second later, you felt yourself land upon the cool sheets of the mattress. The fluffy bedding was a welcome feeling as Mingi's wet frame pressed to you, your lips reconnecting once more.

"We didn't wash up..." You let out a small moan of contentment against the warmth of Mingi's neck, the skin dewy and soft.

"Guess not, but I certainly enjoyed a bath with you nonetheless, Darlin’." Mingi purred against your shoulder, flipping to lay on his back and bring you on top of him. He spread your legs further and gripped your hips in both his palms as you slid down on him. "Damn...Y/N..."

"You said you wanted me to ride you, didn't you?" You smirked, settling back on him.

"Oh...that was one of the best ideas I've ever had...aight, show me what ya got..." He placed one hand on your waist while the other was laid above his head, his grin impossibly wide and goofy as his eyes met yours. "By all means, show me, darlin'."

Fuck, bathtub sex was good but being atop such a fine specimen like Mingi...this was even better...and a whole other level of sensual.

"Mingi...my god..." Your breath caught, eyes slamming shut and rolling into your skull as you sunk deeper and began riding him with more passion.

He cursed under his breath. "Fuck, your pussy is fucking perfect." He smiled, watching the view from under. Mingi was lying there, watching you move above him and he groaned.

"So hot...the way you are riding me...damn." He was straining with how good you were feeling. Your pussy squeezed around Mingi's thick cock, and your hand slid along his broad chest and down his sculpted torso. You trailed along his muscles, and Mingi watched you explore his body while you bounced atop his erection. He loved this.

"Look at you, Y/N.." Mingi smiled.

"So big.." you were stretched in a way you had never been before. "So full..." You whined, completely lost in him.

His hands wrapped tighter around your hips as he helped bounce you up and down his cock.

You continued riding the cowboy for a few more minutes. Mingi brought a hand up, running his thumb along the wet folds of your pussy and you whimpered, gasping when he started circling your clit. "Mingi.." his name came out louder, turning to a wail as you were right on the verge.

"Do it, cum all over me, let me feel it, I'm getting close. So close, darlin’." Mingi barked back, a growl emerging and his hands gripped hard as he pounded up and into you.

"Ooooh, yes!"

He sat up quickly, kissing you again as he thrust deeply until he could go no more, releasing. He jerked, pumping every last bit into you before easing down onto his back with an exhausted and spent laugh.

You collapsed over him and snuggled in closely.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow." Mingi agreed and he looked down at you and your naked form, which was intertwined with his. You snuggled in closer and were amazed at his energy. "Better than with your ex-husband?"

You let out a laugh and you pulled his hands and wrapped them around your waist. Your hands ran across his skin and his face had an easy smile, those chocolate eyes softening. You pushed yourself closer to him, which he welcomed. "Most definitely."

"How would you feel if I stayed with you to protect you and ensure you arrived wherever you wanted to go? I promise to make sure you aren't in any trouble. That's if you would like the company."

A smile spread over your lips, and you nodded your approval. You'd love nothing more than the company of a handsome man with a good heart such as Mingi. He smiled in return placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose and held you tighter, drawing the covers of your bed over the both of you. You smiled a little as you looked at him. The night air filled with a beautiful silence. It was comfortable. Neither of you spoke, but eventually, Mingi whispered into the dark:

"Y'know what Darlin'? I reckon we can manage life together just fine."

You giggled and nodded. "I have a feeling you're right about that."

[multi-fandom-imagine]

•EVEN MORE THE BLUE EYE SAMURAI INCORRECT QUOTES•

Reader: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch.

Taigen: Some times I whine like a big Bitch!

Ringo: Do you think when Butterflies are in love that they feel human's in their stomach?

Reader: Ringo! What the fuck!

Reader: • • •_-• - / ... - •_• •_• -.-

Mizu: What is that

Reader: Remorse Code.

Mizu: I am even angery now.

Reader: Hey Mizu, what are you eating?

Mizu: A family sized bag of sweets.

Reader...that's not family sized....that's regular sized....

Mizu:Everything is family sized when you dont have a family.

Reader: *whispering* Mizu...nOo

Reader: *Laying in bed* Do you think birds get sad for not having arms?

Mizu: Well do you get sad for not having wings?

Reader: *Choke up* Every single day.

Taigen: If I say I love you will you say it back?

Reader: Yes

Taigen: I love you

Reader: It back

*Five Minutes later*

Mizu: Why is Taigen sobbing face down on the floor?

Reader: I wish I could block people in real life.

Akemi: Restraining order

Mizu: Murder

Reader: What are you five?

Taigen: Yea! Five head's taller than you.

Reader:

Taigen:

Reader:

Taigen:....Please don't kill me.

Mizu: Are you high?

Reader: Am I what?

Mizu: High?

Reader: Hello.

Taigen: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Reader: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

Mizu: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Reader: It was me...

Mizu: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Reader: Why are you on the floor?

Mizu: I’m depressed.

Mizu: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ringo, please

Taigen: I guess I’m just a bad person.

Reader: Nah, you’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favourite person. But sometimes you can be a real cunt

Reader: Hey Mizu?

Mizu, internally: There they are. My favorite person in the world, the love of my life. Fuck I just want to stare at them and hold them and kiss them for the rest of my life—

Mizu: What the FUCK do you want?

Akemi staring at Reader: “You look like an angel.”

Reader who wasn’t paying attention: “What?”

Akemi: “I said you look ugly at every angle.”

Mizu *screeching*: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!

Reader: wh-

Mizu: YOU’RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!

Reader:why are you screaming??

Mizu: BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO YELL SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGRESSIVE TONE!

Reader: I-

Mizu: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

Ringo: Wow, it’s a barren featureless wasteland out there isn’t it?

Reader: … Ringo, try turning the map around.

Reader: You’re mad at me.

Mizu: I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.

Reader: Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse

Mizu: Don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

Reader: The power to believe in myself?

Mizu: No, a Sword.

Mizu: Stab them.

Reader: Don’t kill me, I have a wife

Assassin: I don’t care about that

Reader: That wasn’t a plea for mercy, that was a warning

Mizu kicking the door down: You called, love?

Reader: Here you are, Mizu. Nice hot cup of tea.

Mizu: …It’s cold.

Reader: Nice cup of tea.

Mizu: It’s horrible.

Reader: Cup of tea.

Mizu: I’m not even sure it is tea.

Reader: Cup.

Reader: You need to react when people cry.

Mizu: I did, I rolled my eyes.

Reader: Gotta love knitting needles, I can make a scarf, I can make a hat, I can stab someones eyes out, I can make mittens.

Akemi: What was that middle part?

Reader: I can make a hat?

Mizu: How much sleep did you get?

Reader: Eight.

Mizu: Hours?

Reader: Minutes. God! Taigen, would you shut the fuck up?

Taigen*Fixing his hair*: What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything!

Taigen: how come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?

Reader what do you mean?

Taigen: you just seem nicer than usual

Mizu: They can punch you in the face if you want.

Fowler: I could kill you if I wanted.

Reader: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Akemi: Did you really have to stab him?

Reader: You weren't there, you didn't hear what he said to me.

Akemi: And what did he say?

Reader: "What are you gonna do? Stab me?"

Mizu, nodding: That's fair.

Akemi: NO!

Reader: *Screams*

Taigen: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Ringo: Should we do something?

Mizu: No, I want to see who wins.

Ringo:Let's speak about our talents.

Ringo:...I'll start, I like to cook.

Akemi: I'm good at languages.

Reader: I'm good instruments.

Mizu: I'm good at killing people.

Reader: *Does something stupid*

Mizu: What an absolute fucking idiot.

Mizu: I can't believe I would die for them.

[biolumien]

to call home.

pt 4 to the samurai!hoshina fic. pt 3 is here.

notes: i will attempt to tie this up with a neat bow in pt 5... i forgot how frenetic multichapter fics can be... i much prefer the single stuff...!

samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader definite descriptions of gore and blood word count: 1426

“for the last time, hoshina, i do not want to hear about your current wife problems,” gen narumi grumbles. “i cannot begin to tell you how fucking little i care.” he crosses his arms. “you’re here every single fucking day. i told you that we signed off on the alliance papers, right? it’s all in order? your wife’s the one that’s supposed to be going through those. she should be seeing right through your bullshit. i’m not your fucking friend.” 

“please,” hoshina says. “it’s not like i have anyone else to talk to about this.”

“talk to the the old man,” gen deadpans. “what was his name… hibino? the blacksmith?” 

“he’s madly in love with ashiro and is of little help to me,” hoshina replies flatly. 

“ugh.” gen rolls his eyes, leaning forward. the front of his kimono slips a bit, revealing more of his chest as he leans against the table. “so what the hell’s the issue now?” 

hoshina sighs. 

“we sparred the other day. she seemed upset,” hoshina says. “i just wish she’d tell me what she was actually thinking instead of just… staring at me like that.” that look that you give him, where it seems like you want to rip out his stomach and devour it whole. that look that you give him, where you so clearly just—want him dead, more than anything. 

“did you do something to piss her off?” gen asks. 

“no. i just…” hoshina worries his lip. “we haven’t even really done anything.”

“not even sleep together?”

“no, that we did. because we had to,” hoshina says. 

“ugh. of course you can make even the act of sleeping with someone sound dastardly unsexy and so fucking boring,” gen yawns. “what’s the problem, anyhow? we don’t marry for love. it’s duty. i thought you knew better than to believe in childish notions about true love.”

“i believe in true love as much as the next person,” hoshina says, “which is to say that i don’t. not in this life. not in the next.”

gen rolls his eyes. 

“why don’t you just talk to her?” gen asks, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. hoshina supposes that it is, but something about gen saying it to him filled him with some kind of petty rage.

“i’m glad that you seem to think it’s so simple,” hoshina states flatly. “given that you don’t have a wife yet–”

“just can’t keep your mouth shut, huh?” gen’s glare was unimpressed, his hand lowering to the wakizashi at his side. “get out of here before i stab you.”

“ouch, so prickly,” hoshina sneers, but gets up anyway. 

gen stares up at hoshina, yawning inelegantly. 

“i think instead of pussyfooting around this whole thing with your wife you ought to talk to her, quite frankly speaking, about the kind of relationship you want with her. that’s my advice.” 

“hm. that might sound good coming out of anyone else’s mouth but yours,” hoshina says with a leering smile, but the longer he thinks about it, the more gen seems to be right. he’d never truly tried to get to know you, right? nights spent in his own quarters were usually quiet—because he’d always attempted to respect your privacy to the best of his ability. 

you’d wanted nothing to do with him, after all—you barely even mentioned the night you spent together. was he really so clear and obvious in the ways he tried desperately to avoid conflict?

…

probably, now that he thought about it. 

as he settles down for the night, though, something doesn’t feel quite right. he chalks it up to simpler paranoias at first—general anxieties and unrest, the way you’d stared at him during dinner, with a stare so vicious it could kill on its own—up until he hears a bloodcurdling scream.

he bolts out of bed immediately, snatching up his wakizashi and katana, storming towards the source of the noise before he hears the clashing of blades—or a singular crack of one. 

hoshina watches as you cleave an assassin by the neck with a sweep of your naginata, blood splattering across your kimono as you heave out a low breath. as he approaches, you raise your naginata in sudden alarm before lowering your blade. 

“shinobi,” you say, sharply exhaling.

“so it appears,” hoshina says, drawing his katana, stepping behind you with his sword raised in a ready stance. “are you hurt?”

“clearly not,” you say, voice cold even now. “they breached the maids’ quarters. seems like they thought i’d have switched rooms or something out of paranoia.” you level your naginata, adjusting the sleeve of your kimono as you slam the blade into the wall, with an accompanying thud from another assassin.

“a bad actor, you’re saying?” hoshina’s eyes glance across the darkened hallway, his ears straining for any possible sound. he thinks he hears the thudding of footsteps somewhere close, and he raises his sword defensively. “from within the house?” 

“i don’t know,” you respond. “this could just be your family’s enemies. representatives from the narumi clan?” 

“doubtful,” hoshina says. gen wouldn’t be that stupid. “my talks have been going well.”

“well clearly, someone’s fucked up somewhere,” you shout back at him. he wonders why you look beautiful in this moment, blood staining your white kimono and across your face—and then your eyes widen in panic, your lips parting to let out a shout. “soshiro, behind!” 

he whirls around, his blade sinking into the chest of a faceless attacker—he feels the sinking of his blade into the flesh, and he grits his teeth. 

“you saved my life,” hoshina says, not turning to face you. 

“you’re welcome, jackass,” you respond. “keep your eyes and ears open. i’ll fucking kill them all.” 

hoshina laughs. the venom in your voice, usually targeted at him, now freely dished out to your aggressors was a terrifying sound and sight. he thanked the gods at least that he wasn’t your enemy—at least for the moment. 

the house was in disarray—screaming punctuated with the sound of blades, and the darkness made it hard to tell what was really going on, shadows mixed with dark shapes creating an inky blur of sound and physical sensation—but he could carve a path of bodies through it, coat the ground with enough viscera that there would be less sounds of clashing blades. 

as his blade finds the neck of another assassin, hoshina exhales. 

is it over? hoshina wonders. he strains his hearing for the moment, hearing no more footsteps. and yet the air is abuzz with energy–and something doesn’t feel right.

though, he amended, it hadn’t felt right since he’d gotten ready to go to bed. there was terrible unrest. something in the air.

“it’s over, i think,” hoshina says warily, still keeping his sword drawn.

“maybe,” you say, your voice terse.

hoshina leans down, examining one of the bodies, trying to look for an insignia, anything–but the assassins knew better. they bore no symbols of other houses, their weapons nondescript.

and then he hears you shout, and he turns to see you gritting your teeth as you swing your naginata at the same time as the final assassin’s blade connected with your side, having been knocked slightly askew–

you’d saved him.

hoshina moves on instinct as you collapse to the ground, gasping in uneasy pain, trying to hold your side, pulling away to find your hand and sleeve coated with blood. his sword finding the assassin’s stomach–it wasn’t an elegant cut by any means, and he grimaced at the sound of ripping flesh, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he rushed to your side, just trying to take in the sight of your blood spilling against the floor.

you cough.

“soshiro,” you whisper, looking up at him. “am i going to die?”

“no,” hoshina says, but the truth is he’s really not sure. he checks your wound–it’s deep, but if a doctor could stem the bleeding, there’d be a chance you might live. “that was stupid of you, you know. you didn’t have to do that.”

you cough, laughing weakly as you press your hand against your side. he pulls you up, holding your head in his arm.

“it’s my duty as your wife,” you say.

“you don’t have to do it if you don’t love me,” hoshina replies softly. your eyes flick to his face, narrow a little before you look away.

“it’s a shame that i think i do,” you say, and there’s not even a shred of resentment in your voice.  

[neerons]

Some of Clavis Lelouch’s best quotes + Cyran's bonus quotes

"Tell me, Emma, what do you think is the best way to wake someone who's really bad at waking up? (...) That's right, you stab them." (—Clavis talking about Chevalier to Emma)

"Finding such a handsome man in your room is enough to leave anyone breathless. Take your time. I know I'm easy on the eyes. (...) Oh, nice reaction! There's nothing like a good AHHHHH to get me in the mood."

“I didn’t do anything. But next time, don’t be intimidated by these status-crazed nobles. You don’t owe them anything—not even a smile. If someone looks down on you, look down on them in return. Otherwise, your self-worth will start to plummet. Never abandon your self-respect just to calm the situation. I know you’re a wonderful person—I wouldn’t have chosen you as my wife if not.”

"You succumbed to delusion."

"You weren't paying any attention to me at all. I got so lonely, I almost died!"

"...I want to make love to you."

"I'll tell you a secret about Chevalier. You want to know right? I bet you do. (...) He likes romance novels, but the reason for that is... Me. (...) One day, I secretly added to his pile of books... I put a book that boasted its dewy, spicy romance in the pile."

"Haha! When you're as handsome as I am, you look good no matter what state you're in. You just need better understanding of aesthetics." (—Clavis to the "Obsidianite soldier")

"Haha! You don't need to apologize. Who says only kids are allowed to be bouncy? What's wrong with adults being genuine about loving the things they love?"

"Oh, the things you say! Don't you realize you threaten to unleash the beast that hides behind this gentleman's visage?" (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"What a fool I was to think I was done falling in love with you. The depths I could fall for you seem endless."

“We can do it on the table, or by the windowsill again, if you like. Ah, but I don’t recommend the floor—not unless you’re into that.”

"I would never allow my lovely fiancee to live a life of fear. And so I must take it upon myself to indulge her in a life of joy." (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"Wait, wait, wait! (...) Chevalier, you cannot possibly be trying to replace the words 'I love you' with that one kiss. (...) Why else would Emma have dressed up so beautifully? It's all so she can hear you say those three words! (...) Yes, not all things need to be said, but there is a purpose in giving words to feelings. That's how you can bring them into the real world. Chev, you can't let Emma guess how you truly feel forever. Just tell her. (...) The average person can't read minds like you do. Don't assume that Emma knows everything just because you do." (—Clavis to Chevalier, in Chevalier's route)

"I'm charming, aren't I?"

"Here you are, alone in a secret room with a handsome prince. Why are you only interested in those lifeless husks? (...) That's a little offensive, you know."

"Haha! Go to hell." (—Clavis to Chevalier)

"Goodness, I've never visited that bookstore, and to think it was hiding a gem all this time..." (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"Dear me, it looks like they started running the second they spotted me. Haha! That's optimistic of them. " (—Clavis talking about Yves and Licht to Emma)

"You could at least call it artistic. My handwriting conceals talent that would surpass that of a genius artist. (...) It's readable. So long as you take the time to decode it! Haha!" (—Clavis to Jin)

"Ah... Hahaha! I can't believe you headbutted me! You should've slapped me, at least."

"There's no rule that says you have to drink alcohol once you come of age. That said, it might be more romantic to let you get drunk and then take care of you until you sober up. Wait here, I'll just get some—"

"Of course, I'm not trying to criticize your own personal standards for good and evil. But throughout our lives, we're constantly being confronted by our perceptions of good and evil. And there are times when we might regret it later, if we decide to be critical of something simply because 'it's evil'. Our own individual standards for good and evil may not always be aligned with the kingdom's standards for good and evil. And if that happens, wouldn't you want to remain true to your own standards? To what you believe is good and right?"

"So you're comfortable drinking. I'll keep that in mind." (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"(...) I'm well aware that of all the princes, I was the one most loved by his mother. Although I suppose it's not really a surprise, given how adorable and cute I was. (...) Haha! Why are you apologizing? There's no rule that says we can't talk about the deceased. And there's no need to feel guilty, either. I'm not some silly child who gets all worked up just from thinking about her." (—Clavis talking about his mother to Emma)

"I love drawing attention to myself, you know that. I wanted everyone in the palace talking about me, so I made it seem as if I'd gone missing." (—Clavis to Sariel)

"...You're surprisingly sweet on Emma, aren't you?" (—Clavis to Chevalier)

"Well obviously, because I like rabbits. And from what I know of rabbits... They may seem aloof, but they're actually very sweet and loving, and if you're lucky, they'll even let you see that side of them. I think they're adorable. And despite being delicate and easily frightened, they won't run from anything—they'll stand their ground and put on a brave face. I can't think of any other creature that instills in me such an urge to protect them. You see? Everything about them is lovable." (—Clavis talking about Emma secretly)

"But that's why Rhodolite is so well-balanced. If we all agreed with Leon, the kingdom would constantly be in danger from outside. If we all agreed with Chevalier, it would end up a dictatorship."

"You're about the only person who willingly visits the brutal beast's lair."

"Just so we're clear, this doesn't even count as a setback to me. I've tasted defeat countless times at the hands of a brother more beastly than anyone in Obsidian. I've never once made the right choice. I'm a loser, constantly making mistakes, and constantly being laughed at for them. (...) When you fail, it's easy to give up. It's easy to think your ideas are wrong, and yield to the right choice. But this is what I do. Every time I fail, I get up again, and I fight even harder, so that next time, maybe I won't fail. I don't care about what's right for the kingdom. I stay true to what's right for me, and that's the only way I've found any meaning in my life. Even if what I believe to be right and true is actually wrong, and even if I'm called evil and wicked for doing what I do... I'll fight against the brutal beast's methods with everything I have in me. And I'm not going to die until I've made him kneel before me, and accepted that my beliefs are just as righteous as his are. (...) And since I've spent my life tasting nothing but defeat, I think I can declare this with some certainty. So long as you go on living, you'll never really be a loser. Because there is no such thing. Even if you lost this time, you just have to win next time to be the winner. And if nothing else, you'd be able to die a prouder man than you will now. (...) Today's failures will lead you to tomorrow's hope. Always, as long as you don't give up. And that's why I'm going to get up and try again. What about you? Are you going to die a dog's death here?" (—Clavis to the "Obsidianite soldier")

"What a shame... Were my hands not bound right now... I'd already be making love to you."

"Haha! Not a chance. I adore her." (—Clavis denying disliking Emma to Gilbert)

"I've always tried to be a gentleman, and live by the tenet that women are free to come and go as they please. But with you, I find myself wondering whether I should be using handcuffs, rope, or maybe a strong net."

"All right, then, I guess I'll just have to slip a few weapons into your luggage to help celebrate your departure. At the very least, I've already included a shovel." (—Clavis helping Emma escape from Obsidian)

"My brother is an absolute genius when it comes to angering people in just about every way possible. He outclasses us all in that, too." (—Clavis talking about Chevalier)

"Dearie me, don't tell me you're here for a secret tryst with my brother? I never imagined this unsociable beast might finally have his sexual awakening—" (—Clavis talking about Chevalier to Emma)

"(...) It's a water jet device designed to keep you cool in sultry summer evenings. I made it expressly for you. Isn't it brilliant?"

"The only people he could hold a proper conversation with were those who faced him head-on." (—Clavis' thoughts about Chevalier)

"(...) I don't care about me, but I don't think it's appropriate to be pointing guns at a woman, do you?" (—Clavis protecting Emma from 'someone')

"You really are gorgeous... I'm so captivated by you... that I feel I might forget how to be a gentleman for good."

"You could tie me down any day, my lovely fiancee."

"Ah. Hello, insecurity. I had not missed you at all. If I want to make my lovely fiancee happy, I'm going to need to start being more confident." (—Clavis' thoughts)

"You're so beautiful when you're watching something with rapt attention."

"How could you treat your kind little brother like this, when he worked himself to the bone trying to keep your library nice and tidy? I'm going to tell Emma on you." (—Angry Clavis to Chevalier)

"Well, first, I'd love to be able to pamper you in the bathroom. I want to wash your hair and gently exfoliate your skin so it's super soft. (...) Next, I want to hire a famous artist to draw a portrait of you than I can hang on my wall. I want one so big it'll cover the entire thing. Maybe I'll even get a bunch of you drawn. Seeing lots of you while I work would be good for motivation. (...) Also, I would love it if we could change up how we say good night. Every day, before bed, I want us to say 'I love you' instead of just 'good night'. (...) Oh, it's also my dream to go on a trip around the world with you! I just want to explore new sights with you and kiss and cuddle you in new places."

Cyran's bonus quotes:

"(...) Prince Clavis lies incessantly, so feel free to ignore everything he says. (...) Everything. You've no need to be worried about his feelings, or even keep him company. And it might be in your best interests to refuse to eat any of this." (—Cyran talking about Clavis and his cooking to Emma, in front of Clavis)

"You're still half-asleep, aren't you? You're a disgrace." (—Cyran to Clavis)

"When we finally catch up to him, I think we should team up and give him a good scolding!" (—Cyran talking about Clavis to Emma)

"Since you left me behind like that, I've decided to hold a grudge against you forever. (...) Do it again and I'll throttle you, master or no. Just so you know." (—Cyran to Clavis)

"My Lady, I'm afraid that Prince Clavis's plan is truly stupid. A prince in his right mind would never even plan such a thing, and the average person would recoil in shock at the very idea of it."

"Prince Clavis, you can't just go casually tossing your head in her lap like that. My Lady, you're more than welcome to slap him awake at this point."

"(...) despite all that, there was one fool prince who stormed into the camp where the prisoners were being held. Yep, I'm talking about the idiot prince currently sleeping like a babe in your lap."

"From the way he acts, it's easy to mistake him for a fool and a scoundrel, but... at heart, he's the kindest, most compassionate man I've ever met." (—Cyran talking about Clavis to Emma)

"...So where is he, this handsome man? (...) ...You're a total mess right now, you realize. You look dreadful. Want me to get you a mirror?" (—Cyran to Clavis)

"My Lady, I truly am sorry, but... I've been ordered to inform you that, and I quote, 'your prince is in grave danger and needs you to rescue him! Ahaha'! (...) ...He insisted I include the 'ahaha' at the end." (—Cyran delivering a message from Clavis to Emma)

"Very well. I'll inform him that you said to die in pain and agony." (—Cyran talking about Clavis to Chevalier)

"Really? Are you sure? Ahh, this is great, it means I can get away from my troublesome master for a while. I look forward to serving you, My Lady, and I'll do my absolute best for you!" (—Cyran replying to Clavis' order to be Emma's personal bodyguard)

"My Lady, you're the sort of person who worries constantly about other people, without ever thinking about yourself. Like at the party, when you tried to protect Prince Gilbert from that guy with the knife. That sort of thing."

"...Farewell, my peaceful days."

"...Stay strong, my lady. I know exactly how you feel, but know that I am cheering you on."

[goodeapple]

you got any of that good shit with Cregan Stark ?

oh, i thought ya'll would never ask

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“it’s nothing, really husband.” ysilla giggles, and while it’s infuriatingly cute and the most welcome sound he’s heard all night, the matching smirk her stepfather dons begins to stir his blood. 

“it seems you’ve married a puppy, little one.”

cregan doesn’t quite care for the way the rogue prince’s eyes hang on his stepdaughter. the way they seem to caress her lips and the arch of her brow. how they drink in the glow of her skin and the sweep of her curls. and, most heinously, how they gaze on the swell of her tits and the bloom of her backside. 

he knows the targaryens blend blood and desire without shame from the gods but after tonight, ysilla is no longer just a targaryen. she’s a stark too, and starks protect their own. 

“puppies have been known to guard what is theirs with fierceness that shouldn’t be rivaled. And their teeth aren't just for looks, good father.” cregan picks his words carefully, playing the game his uncle had told him is so important down here. he usually wouldn’t layer a threat so subtly- he has no time for fancy words, his blade and his bluntness enough to get his point across. but stabbing his wife’s stepfather isn’t an approved wedding gift, so he bites his tongue until he tastes metal. 

ysilla blinks at him, her eyebrows raising in surprise, but the smile pulling at her mouth is impressed. she curls around his arm, tucking herself into his side and he calms almost immediately. he wants to groan- he’s already wrapped around his wife's little finger. 

daemon regards him with apathetic eyes, his only retort to take a sip from his goblet before departing with a lingering hmmm. the festivities are in full swing, northmen and southerners mingling without long learned prejudices, barrels and barrels of ale doing wonders for their moods.

“well that was fun.” ysilla laughs, her demureness fading away with every cup she drains. her cheeks are rosy, from rouge and wine, and cregan can’t stop himself from wondering if she flushes all over when she’s happy, when she’s excited. the glaze over her eyes turns the orbs into glossy amethyst stones, bejeweled and sparkling, hypnotizing to any who stare too deep.

“you know… all of my maids warned me of the brutish tendencies of north wolves,” ysilla’s fingertips tickle his skin as she traces fine lines over the scars on his forearm. she trails upwards, gliding up the swell of his bicep and across his shoulder before coming to rest at the column of his neck. cregan swallows, feeling like a rabbit in a trap, the princess a wolf creeping closer. his pulse jumps and she must feel it, as her thumb starts to stroke the bob of his throat. 

“how I should be prepared to discover bruises on my hips… my thighs… my breasts. how I might walk with a limp depending on his…” ysilla's focus draws to the front of his breeches, her small pink tongue darting out to moisten her mouth. cregan feels a growl start to rumble in his chest. 

“size.” 

all is quiet between the newlyweds, the raucous sound of both of their families filling dragonstone to the brim. 

“i thought you didn’t want a bedding ceremony.” cregan finally says tersely. ysilla’s forehead crinkles, her head tilting, regarding him with confusion.

“i don’t.”

“well, if you don’t want me to drag you to the nearest chamber and prove to you how much of a brute your new husband can be,” he clasps her wandering hand in his, squeezing gently before lacing their fingers together. “i beg of you to stop driving me fucking mad with your touch.” 

ysilla smiles and he’s seen shadowcats with duller teeth. 

“all I’ve wanted since I saw you this morning is to slip into your lap and ride you like a wild horse. and to admire exactly what I get to spend the rest of my life having fill me up every night.”

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btw, i read this ask like this