#brynget

For Brynden, the chances of waking up to a wolf in his bed were low, but never zero. Still, the furry presence near his head managed to catch him by surprise.

He knew his wolfy wife liked her solitude when transformed. Bridget had gotten used to isolating herself on those nights when the moon’s call was at its strongest— it was her way to protect both herself and the humans she cared for. Though it was no longer necessary to isolate during transformations while she resided in Neverwhere Castle, it was hard for her to let go of old habits.

Bridget’s presence in his bed while walking as a wolf brought a grin to Brynden’s lips. He snuggled closer to her, letting his head fall against her side and feeling all fuzzy at the way her fur tickled his cheeks. A soft huff echoed beneath his ears as her fluffy tail swung up to rest across his abdomen. It landed in much the same way her arm might have, were she cuddling him in her human form.

It didn’t take long for sleep to once again claim Brynden.

When he woke again, his cheek was pressed against skin, not fur. He felt Bridget’s fingers card through his hair as he stirred.

“You used me as a pillow.” She chided, tugging playfully at his fiery hair.

“Sorry.” Bryn grumbled back, rubbing his cheek against her belly with no remorse.

“What sort of vampire are you, cuddling up to a wolf like a child seeking out their cloth doll in the night?” Bridget teased.

“The kind that very much wishes you would stop digging up his garden every full moon.” Bryn replied.

“You’ll be pleased to know I spent the night inside the castle. The rain was absolutely miserable.” Bridget chuckled. “Your peonies are undisturbed.”

“My marigolds, you mean?”

Bryn couldn’t help but smirk when Bridget smacked him lightly.

“I may not know my flowers, but I know a smug little prick when I see one!”

Laughing, Brynden pulled away from Bridget’s stomach and collapsed back on the bed beside her. “It’s still early. Let’s get a few more hours of sleep before breakfast.”

2. With another oc // 3. Wearing another ocs clothes

31. First time holding hands

He wants to be there when she wakes up.

Bryn’s fought tooth and nail to get himself assigned to the prison infirmary so he can monitor Bridget’s recovery. He’s kept them from pulling the plug, has worked his ass off to save her, and has made sure she’s gotten the best care possible. He wants to be there when she wakes up.

He has to be there when she wakes up.

Charming the infirmary staff was easy enough— all that he needed was a smile. The guards were a little harder, but once he let his wallet do the talking, they were eager enough to turn a blind eye. The other prisoners in the infirmary were also more than willing to keep their mouths shut when he plied them with generous donations of funds to be placed in their commissary accounts.

His efforts allow him to stay late into the night with Bridget, reading to her from a well-worn copy of Finnegan’s Wake. At this point in his life, it’s the only thing that’s more absurd than his own reality, so he reads it to Bridget in the hopes of her waking up and asking him what in the fuck kinda dumb bullshit he’s reading.

As he reads, he reaches out to hold her hand. He squeezes it lightly, searching for comfort against the warmth of her skin. He nearly jumps out of his chair when she squeezes back.

“Bridget?” He asks shakily.

“Bryn.” She manages to force out, voice hoarse from disuse. “What in the fuck kinda dumb bullshit are you reading to me? Did you join a fucking cult?”

Bryn could almost explode with laughter. Instead, he squeezes her hand tighter and puts the book away. “I was hoping I’d hear you say that today, mate.”

He could easily let go now, but the way she blinks wearily up at him and then softly smiles is enough to keep him glued to his seat.

“Stay with me? At least until the fuzz in my head goes away?” Bridget asks.

“Of course.” Bryn replies.

9. first kisses

It was a lot less dramatic than Bridget had imagined.

Peace was not something often found in the Saints Penthouse, but on that particular night the party had migrated to the Broken Shillelagh, leaving Brynden and Bridget alone in the lounge. As fun as Pierce’s parties were, Bridget needed a night to catch her breath and relax. Having Bryn on the couch beside her certainly helped with that.

He was dozing off, with his head resting against Bridget’s shoulder. He seemed to wake himself up every few minutes. He’d start snoring and then immediately stop, picking his head up from Bridget’s shoulder and muttering out an apology before sitting up a little. The process had repeated at least three times by now.

“You can go to bed if you’re tired.” Bridget said softly.

“I’m not, I’m just… comfy. It’s nice.” Brynden replied. “A good change of pace.”

In the back of her mind, Bridget remembered Atla laughing and calling Brynden an “old woman of a man.” It made her smile.

“A little party for us.” She murmured.

“It’s weird to be at a party without a woman on my lap.” Brynden joked.

Bridget cocked an eyebrow at him and pushed herself off the couch. She quickly straddled Bryn’s thighs and sat herself in his lap.

“Is that better?” She asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“More familiar. All we’re missing is Pierce’s shite music taste and we’d be set.” Bryn joked.

“That, and a drunk girl trying to pull some moves on you.”

Brynden snorted at that. “Good lord, do you remember the last party? I thought I’d never get rid of her. Spent the whole night trying to ge them to take the hint and fuck off so I could get back to talkin’ to you.”

“She was determined, I’ll give her that. And she was certainly trying hard to get you to kiss her.”

“Good fuckin’ luck to her with that. She was missing out on several of my requirements.”

“Oh? And what was she lacking.”

“Pretty brown eyes and a lovely purple smile. “

Bridget felt herself blush. “Oh? So with the right contacts and lipstick, she would’ve had a better chance?”

Reaching out, Brynden brushed a stray tuft of hair behind Bridget’s ear. “Fuck no.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wasn’t you.” Brynden said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Bridget stared at him for a long moment. “So I could kiss you?”

“If you wanted to.”

“And if I wanted to?”

“Then you should do it.”

That was all it took. Bridget leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. She felt his hands come to rest on her waist, felt him push forward to kiss her in return. Not one to be outdone, Bridget tangled her own hands in Brynden’s long red hair and rugged slightly. When Bryn moaned into the kiss, she couldn’t help but grin.

Eventually, they had to pull apart and get some air. When they did, Brynden chuckled and rested his forehead against hers. “Fuck, why didn’t we do that sooner?” He asked.

“Because we’re both very repressed people with a mountain of other issues that we use as an excuse to not deal with our feelings?” Bridget suggested.

“… you didn’t have to come for our lives like that, but you’re not wrong.” Bryn murmured.

“This is too much introspection and not enough kissing.” Bridget declared.

“I couldn’t agree more. Wanna have another go at ‘er?”

“Might as well!”

P: Psychic Link & Z: Zero Chill Around Each Other

It’s been like this since the first moment they locked eyes. Grey met brown and something sparked in each of them, giving them access to the other’s mind. It’s a good tool for them to have, even if it can cause trouble sometimes. Goodbye surprise parties, hello immediately knowing when your parented is in danger.

Brynden will always take knowing Bridget like he knows his own mind over a surprise party any day. Surprises usually end somewhere badly, like in an abandoned warehouse at the docks. The ropes burn against Brynden’s skin as he tries to squirm enough to get them loose. His attackers aren’t paying him any mind, but that’s their own mistake.

He knows immediately when Bridget arrives. Her anger has been growing stronger and stronger over the course of the last fifteen minutes. It’s reached it’s peak in a burning hot light that will incinerate all of these dumb motherfuckers who thought it was okay to lay a hand on her husband.

The kidnappers don’t know Bridget’s coming, but Bryn does. He feels her presence reach out to him, feels her sigh of relief when he reaches back. He reports the bastards positions to Bridget, then sits back and prepares watches the show unfold before him with a shit-eating grin. The men scream bloody murder when Bridget finally attacks.

In the aftermath, Bridget jumps from the vehicle she just rammed through the warehouse doors and rushes to Brynden’s side. She bows her head to his and rests a moment, allowing them both to catch their breaths.

“Bridget, acushla, did you steal a fucking tank?” Brynden asks breathlessly.

“I did. For you.” Bridget confirms.

“God, that’s so fucking sexy.” Bryn purrs. “Get me out of this chair so we can break it in together, yeah?”

Bridget chuckles. “I think if we have sex in the tank we will psychologically damage it.”

“Since when has a little scarification ever stopped you?”

It’s the little things, I think.

Even if Bridget doesn’t get out of bed until 9am, she’ll wake up with Bryn around 6am. It’s a lot harder to ignore his alarm when she’s in the same room as it.

Bridget’s bouts of insomnia are easier to fight off when she’s got her own personal space heater wrapped around her like a drunk octopus. Bryn’s less inclined to stay up until 3am working himself to death when Bridget threatens to suplex him if he doesn’t get his ass in bed. Their sleeping schedules get significantly less fucked as a result

Bridget invests in a drain sieve after Bryn starts growing his hair long again. She spends a lot more time picking long red hairs off of herself. She doesn’t mind it, though she does threaten to collect his hair and make a sweater out of it if he keeps forgetting to clean out the drain sieve after he showers.

Bridget falls asleep in the car driving home and wakes up in Bryn’s bed in his second story apartment, not remembering how she got there. She rolls over to ask Bryn, who sleepily replies “carried you. Go back to sleep”

The elevator has been broken for two months, so his dumbass hauled her up the stairs instead of waking her up.

Bridget makes Bryn tea when she gets up, to have something to ease them in to the lecture of “lift with your legs, not your back, and also don’t carry me up two flights of stairs just because you don’t want to wake me up.”

The lecture becomes pointless when Bryn realizes that Bridget knows how to make tea exactly how he likes it. He’s too caught up in his heart swelling with affection for the lesson to truly be learned.

The landlord finally gets the elevator fixed after Bryn and Bridget pay him a personal visit. The mutual intimidation of a sleazy little fuck and the subsequent realization that they make quite the power couple only serves to strengthen that bond.

Manhandling a baked-out-of-his-fucking-mind Brynden into bed wasn’t how Bridget wanted to spend her Saturday night, but he would’ve done the same for her, and she wasn’t about to abandon her right hand man after he took the Samedi’s attention off of her.

Whatever the hell they’d packed into the Loa Dust they’d drugged Brynden with had him loopier than a third-grader’s shoelaces. He kept looking at Bridget and smiling a dopey smile. He’d spent the entire ride home giving her puppy dog eyes and fighting off sleep so she wouldn’t have to carry him inside. Bridget could lift twice his weight without an issue, but she still appreciated the gesture.

Bryn always looked out for her, even when he was halfway out his mind on Loa Dust. It was only fair she offer him the same consideration.

Bridget helped Bryn into his bed, tugging off his shoes for him and coaxing him out of his jeans. She moved the empty wastebin to the side of the bed in case he needed it later. He’d probably also need something to drink once his head cleared a bit...

“Don’t leave...” Bryn murmured, reaching out to grab Bridget’s hand and squeeze it tightly.

“I’m just getting water from the fridge. I’ll be two minutes.” Bridget replied softly.

Bryn let go of her hand, albeit hesitantly.

After the fastest kitchen trip Bridget had done in her life, she returned to find Brynden still fighting off sleep. His eyelids fluttered, only for him to force them open again and shake his head fiercely.

“You came back.” He slurred, blinking rapidly.

“Told you I would. Now scoot over, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you sleep alone while you’re in this state.” Bridget said firmly.