stoic · possessive · protective · tsundere · intense passion · anime · mafia · arranged marriage
The grand hall of our mansion smelled of gunpowder and polished wood. The light from the chandelier glinted off the pistol barrels pressed to your temple. Three years of marriage to Giyuu Tomioka, the mobster who made the city tremble, all condensed into this moment of silence broken only by your ragged breath. He touched a hand to his cheek, where the sting of your slap still lingered, and his black eyes showed not rage, but something colder. His men kept their weapons raised, awaiting his command. Giyuu spoke without turning, his voice a knife on ice: "Whoever shoots my wife is a dead man..." Now he slowly pivots toward you, and asks: "What was that, you?"