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#this has to be the worst thing I have ever drawn in my entire life

edenesth · 3 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [10]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.5k

Trigger Warnings: graphic violence/torture, gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 9 | Fic Masterlist | Part 11

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Wooyoung called out, entering the general's study with Jongho following closely behind, having been summoned to the estate.

Seonghwa looked up from his desk, "Ah yes, I heard you turned down the bonus incentive we offered. Why is that? Is there something else that you wish to have?"

Having encountered few who would refuse extra money, your husband found it hard to comprehend the private investigator's decision. Most people around him were usually drawn by the allure of his wealth or other associated benefits, which left him curious about Wooyoung's motives for declining the bonus. Surely, there was something specific he desired.

The younger man beamed, "My lord, I wasn't working so willingly for you because I wanted something more from you. Honestly, nothing makes me happier than being recognised by you! I just... okay, maybe there is one thing I really want."

Raising his brow, the general was not surprised by the sudden admission, "Go on, name it then."

With a cheeky grin, the investigator replied, "It's that you allow me to help you with whatever problems you have now!"

Your husband rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "What do you mean? I have no problems now; the worst is over."

"Really? Is that why you're here sulking alone instead of being with Lady Park? You clearly want to be near her, and yet, here you are, staying away from her because you haven't a clue how to face her after the traumatising ordeal you put her through yesterday."

That finally piqued Seonghwa's attention, prompting him to sit up straighter, though he attempted to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "H-how did you figure that out?"

Without waiting for Wooyoung's response, he shook his head, "No, wait, actually, I don't want to know that. Just tell me... what should I do? I realise I haven't considered well enough what she went through, but I... I've never had to care for someone like this before, and I'm not really sure how to..."

The investigator offered an understanding smile, "My lord, the key to any relationship is communication. You need to talk to Lady Park. Ask her how she's feeling, and tell her you're sorry for what she went through. Avoiding each other won't solve anything; it will only create more distance between you two. You're her pillar of support now, and she needs to feel that you're there for her. You both deserve happiness, but it starts with open and honest communication."

Absorbing the advice, the general nodded thoughtfully, "You're right, Wooyoung. I appreciate your straightforwardness. I'll go talk to her and make things right."

Without hesitating, he sprang from his chair and made his way out of the study. The assistant and his friend couldn't contain their laughter, covering their mouths with their hands, but quickly composed themselves when Seonghwa glanced back at them, "Oh, and please, accept the bonus. You deserve it, especially after this."

Before Wooyoung could object, he had already exited the room and was rushing down the path toward the House of Lotus, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing his wife again.

He remembered how quiet you had been during the entire journey back home the day before, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. While you weren't overtly distant or cold to him, you seemed lost in thought throughout dinner. You excused yourself early, retiring to your quarters. The atmosphere carried an unspoken tension, making him hesitant to say anything for fear of your potential reaction.

Reflecting on it, he realised he should have assured you that things would be better from that point forward. Rather than maintaining a facade of normalcy, he regretted not breaking the silence and being there for you in that moment of unease.

His steps hesitated, and his breath deepened as you finally appeared in his line of sight, seated alone in the pavilion outside your room. Your lady etiquette books lay open beside you, but the faraway look in your eyes remained glued to the horizon beyond the lotus pond. For a moment, he stood there, appreciating your beauty, suddenly feeling thankful you looked nothing like your father.

However, as soon as you turned your head slightly and noticed him standing by the entrance, he blinked rapidly, feeling flustered. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and approached you.

Just go talk to her, you fool.

Seeing him approach, you closed the books and made room for him to sit in the small pavilion. He offered a warm smile, "Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you or anything."

Shaking your head, you returned a small smile, "No, not at all. I tried to study, but I just... I couldn't."

As he settled down beside you, reaching for your hand, you didn't flinch or pull away. He released a relieved breath and moved closer, "It's alright, you don't have to force yourself. I know you're probably upset with me. I... I'm sorry, my dear."

Lifting your head to meet his eyes, you furrowed your brows, "What? Why would I be upset with you?"

He winced, wondering if you were intentionally testing him to see if he knew what he did wrong. But then again, he knew you would never do anything like that. Sighing, he admitted, "Look, I know I should've thought things through better yesterday. I was so focused on wanting to punish your family for what they did, I forgot about how horrible it must have been for you to go back there and sit through all of that."

"I acknowledge it was a mistake. My intention was to give you a chance to confront your family by taking you to your old room. I didn't think it would affect you so badly. I realise now that it was a misguided decision, and I regret taking you back to that place. I'm a goddamned idiot."

His admission tugged at your heart, and you responded by placing a comforting hand over his.

"Seonghwa, you're not an idiot. I'm not upset with you," You assured him, "I've been quiet since the visit because I'm still processing the fact that my own father killed my mother. All this time, I believed she died from sickness. Now, I can't help but wonder how different my life would have been if only she were still alive. He took her away from me just like that, and for what? All for his own selfish reasons..."

"I just... I feel so—" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your voice broke, "I-I'm sorry..." You pulled your hands away from him, attempting to wipe your eyes, but he gently grasped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

"No, you need to stop apologising. You have every right to be sad, and I'm here to tell you that you never have to endure any more of the pain you're going through alone. I'm here for you, okay? From now on, I want you to lean on me whenever things get too unbearable. Can you do that?"

Feeling the genuine warmth in Seonghwa's tone and seeing the unmistakable care in his eyes, you finally broke down. The weight of the revelations, the pain of your father's actions, and the years of emotional torment spilt over, and you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. He pulled you close, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed against his shoulder.

Whispering comforting words into your ear, he pressed gentle kisses onto the top of your head. His touch was a soothing balm, providing the comfort and support you desperately needed in that moment. As you let out your emotions, he held you tighter.

The sound of your heart-wrenching cries only caused an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart. The general had never experienced this kind of ache before. Throughout his life, he had always believed that no one had a tougher life than he did. But then you came along, with your fragile form, managing to shake his entire world and alter his perspectives on life. All of a sudden, the notion of having someone to protect and care for didn't seem so repulsive, especially when it was you.

You slowly pulled back, staring up at him through your wet lashes, and offered a grateful smile, "Seonghwa, I want to thank you for doing all this for me. I never imagined someone caring enough to go through all that trouble. I promise, in return, I'll try my hardest to be a worthy wife for you."

He wiped away your tears tenderly and gazed into your eyes, "You don't need to prove anything, my love. You're already perfect, just as you are."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you stuttered, "W-wait, what... what did you just call me?"

He stilled, realising the words that had slipped from his mouth before he softened. Leaning close, he pressed his forehead against yours, "My love."

Seonghwa's presence became almost intoxicating. Feeling him so close, as if with a mind of its own, your eyes slowly fluttered closed. He took that as permission to lean in further, and after what felt like an eternity, his lips touched yours in a soft and tentative kiss. When you didn't push him away, he bravely angled his head before pressing his lips firmly against yours.

Finally, our first kiss.

Pulling away after a while to catch your breath, you bit your lip shyly, "I-I'm sorry if I wasn't—"

He shook his head, "Don't worry, it's my first time kissing someone too," He admitted, struggling to take his eyes off your swollen lips. A soft smile played on his lips as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, "Can I..." He asked with half-lidded eyes, and you nodded breathlessly.

Without wasting another moment, he captured your lips in another loving kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence. His touch was gentle yet filled with a depth of emotion. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of emotions, a mix of vulnerability and passion.

Feeling the need for air, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes met, and you could see the affection and sincerity in his gaze, "You're perfect." He whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, realising that kissing you might just be his new favourite thing to do from now onwards. The moment lingered, the air charged with newfound emotions. It was a beginning, a sweet promise of the love that had blossomed between you.

"Your Majesty, please—"

The King slammed his fists against the handle of his throne, causing the minister to gasp and lower his head. He shook like a leaf, awaiting his impending doom as the ruler declared, "I don't want to hear another word from you, Jang. You're a bloody disappointment. Actually, you're worse than that, you monster."

Kneeling beside your father were your stepmother and stepsisters, equally trembling. Pathetic tears rolled down their cheeks as they attempted to put on a pity show, hoping to move His Majesty's heart. However, their efforts did little to appease his rage. He scoffed in disbelief at their audacity to cry, considering all the despicable things they had done to you and your mother.

This marked the first time the four women had set foot in the palace, and little did they anticipate it would be under such circumstances. The visit might also be their only time here, as the imminent judgement from the King would decide their fate.

Seonghwa stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, an amused expression on his face. He left home that morning after a lingering kiss on your lips, feeling rejuvenated and determined. Choosing not to burden you with the details of today's assembly, he shielded you from further thoughts about your family.

Don't worry, my love. I'll make sure they suffer a punishment worse than death.

"I can't stand to look at you imbeciles for another moment longer. Let's get this over with already. Royal Secretary Choi, would you be so kind as to enlighten us with all of Minister Jang's crimes and his punishments?" said the King.

Stepping forward from his corner next to the throne, San bowed, "As you wish, Your Majesty," Tugging open the scroll in his hands, he began reading out loud, "Minister Jang has committed a total of five crimes. First, he committed adultery voluntarily, and for that, he will be whipped with eighty lashes. Second, he committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, he will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

Dread filled the minister as he gulped, anxiously listening to the secretary move on to the next section, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of his own daughter, an innocent citizen, he will be flogged thirty times. Next, for violating the code of ethics as a minister, which is to be a law-abiding citizen, he will be stripped of his title and flogged another twenty times."

As your father's hands trembled, he attempted to hold himself up by pressing his sweaty palms against the floor, breathing heavily as he awaited the final and most severe punishment. San continued, "And finally, for the murder of his first wife, an innocent citizen, he will be sentenced to permanent exile."

That's... it?

Feeling a sliver of hope, the old man let out a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn't death by beheading or arsenic poisoning as he had feared. Banishment seemed acceptable; he supposed he could still live a quiet life somewhere away from here. Bowing deeply, he cried, "Thank you, Your Majesty! Your grace is immeasurable!"

All the ministers and officials present quickly stole glances at Seonghwa, wondering if he would throw a fit and object to the punishment that was yet to be the heaviest one. However, they failed to discern his feelings, as there was only an unreadable smirk on his handsome face.

Lady Jang and her daughters trembled as they awaited their turn. With a nod from the King, the secretary continued, "Moving on, Lady Jang has committed a total of four crimes. First, she voluntarily committed adultery, and for that, she will be whipped eighty lashes. Second, she committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, she will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

She nodded to herself, seemingly already accepting her fate, as she listened, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, she will be flogged thirty times. And finally, for being an accomplice to the murder of the first Lady Jang, she will be sentenced to penal servitude for life."

Her eyes shot up immediately, finding it hard to accept that she would be separated from her husband. She had believed she, too, would be exiled along with him. But she quickly lowered her gaze as soon as she saw the glare the King had directed at her, as if daring her to complain about it.

Oh god, my life is over...

Noticing the King's patience wearing thin, San quickly concluded with the final sentencing, "Lastly, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, the three young misses of the Jang family will be flogged thirty times each and sentenced to penal servitude for a total of thirty years."

All three of the sisters' jaws fell slack at their punishment. After living luxurious lives like spoiled brats for so long, they were now expected to be servants, performing hard labour for three decades. All their dreams of getting married and leading comfortable lives were shattered. The prospect of finding suitors after serving their sentences seemed bleak. Their lives were forever ruined, and things would never be the same.

"Now that that's settled, remove these individuals from my sight, and see to it that they receive their physical punishments by today. I don't want their presence contaminating my palace walls any longer than necessary. Moving on to the next agenda, let us discuss who will stand in as the interim Minister of Military Affairs until we elect a new one." The ruler grumbled, waving his hands dismissively.

Seonghwa grinned smugly, relishing the way your father's face fell as he absorbed His Majesty's words. The King fully intended to drive the point home, reminding him that, no matter how much he believed he contributed to the nation, he, too, was just as disposable. Consider it emotional torment for further punishment, if you will.

As the members of the Jang family were forcefully pulled to their feet and guided toward the palace torture chamber where all punishments for criminals were administered, the general bowed deeply, "Your Majesty, forgive this humble subject for not feeling too well. Would it be possible for me to excuse myself from the remainder of today's assembly?"

With a knowing glint in his eyes, the King nodded, "Of course, my boy. Nothing matters more than your well-being. I'll have Royal Secretary Choi send you the minutes of today's meeting later on."

All eyes were fixed on your husband as he confidently exited the hall, wearing an excessively pleased expression, looking a little too content to be feeling unwell as he had claimed. It became evident to everyone that he was plotting something, a scheme that even His Majesty was privy to and had tacitly approved.

"P-please, have mercy!"

Screams reverberated within the dim and eerie confines of the torture chamber, a place the general once frequented during his duties of interrogating spies, war criminals, and suspicious individuals to maintain peace within the nation.

The familiar sounds of your family's agonising cries filled his ears, and he couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped his lips as he entered, "Ah yes, music to my ears."

Upon his arrival, all the royal guards present swiftly bowed deeply and greeted Seonghwa with respect, "Good day, General Park!" They dared not continue until he gave them a nod, "Go on, don't let me stop you. I'm only here to enjoy the show."

"Yes, sir!" They chanted in unison. To many young soldiers and palace guards, he was akin to a god, an embodiment of success they aspired to achieve one day. Therefore, his mere presence motivated them to perform their duties with increased ruthlessness and precision.

Taking a seat in the centre of the room, your husband bit his lip with a smug expression, locking eyes with your father whose gaze reflected anguish. The elderly man lay face down on a wooden table, enduring lash after lash on his already bloody and battered back. His painful ordeal was far from over.

Whimpering, your father pleaded, "S-Seonghwa, I'm s-still your father-in-law! Please, at least show a little mercy to your wife's father!" Beside him, his wife nodded pathetically, sharing the same painful fate. Meanwhile, the three daughters stood frozen in a corner, wrists cuffed, awaiting their turn to face their beatings.

A devilish laughter escaped the general as he shot a menacing glare at the former minister, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that supposed to make things any better? I would show you mercy if only you had shown my wife any. You shouldn't have said anything, you fool," Turning to the guard in charge of whipping your father, your husband ordered, "Not hard enough, soldier. I want to see his skin tear."

"Yes, sir!" Striking with increased force, the lashes landed on the old man's back, inflicting wounds that would take months to heal. The continuous shrieks of pain only served to widen the smile on Seonghwa's face, "And to think you were thanking His Majesty for his grace; you've underestimated the severity of being whipped, haven't you? Did you really think you were going to walk out of here with a small bruise? Dream on."

"Oh, I can't wait for all of you to experience the wonders of flogging! It will be delightful, a punishment perfectly suited for your kind." The general sang, eyeing the three girls slyly.

They cowered under his intense gaze, suddenly regretting every action they took on the day of your visit. Perhaps if they hadn't attempted any of those, they might have gotten away with a lighter sentence. But there was no point dwelling on such thoughts now.

"Father! Mother!" The girls cried, witnessing their parents only now completing the first half of their punishment. Before they could continue their wailing, guards approached them, saying, "Quiet down! Worry about yourselves instead; it's your turn."

The former minister and his wife looked practically lifeless by the time the guards were finished with their hundred lashes each. The skin on their backs was completely torn open, blood gushing out relentlessly. They were nearly unconscious by the time the guards moved them to separate poles, where they would be beaten with a heavy stick all over their bodies.

Letting out a small yawn, Seonghwa signalled for them to prepare for the flogging. This would be entertaining to witness; most criminals barely survived this punishment by the time it concluded. He would relish the idea of them being left in critical conditions.

"Enjoy yourselves! Thirty times each for what you've all done to my wife – just the perfect amount to leave you halfway to hell. Don't worry; you'll wish you were dead by the end of this. But rest assured, we will keep you alive," Your husband exclaimed with a clap of his hands, "Now, I want you to think of all the things you've done to my wife as you endure this. Can we all do that?"

In the ensuing silence, the guards approached each family member, forcefully striking them with the heavy sticks in their hands. With just one hit, all of them began howling in pain, "Answer the general! Can you all do as you are told?!"

"Y-yes! Yes!" All five of them sobbed miserably, and the general beamed, "Fantastic! Now, let the official flogging begin! The first one does not count, alright? Consider it warm up!"

The insanity in his eyes was genuinely terrifying, and your family was once again reminded of his reputation. Suddenly, it all made sense. This was how it felt to be a victim of his cruelty. They never should have sent you to him; that was their biggest mistake, and nothing they do or say could ever change that now.

"Yes, sir!"

And so it began, the screams that now filled the room were even more piercing than the ones during the first round of whipping.

Approaching each family member one by one, Seonghwa smirked, "Remember all the times you starved her?" Jinjoo nodded in between shrieks, "Good. And you, recall all the times you insulted her and made her feel small?" Jinhee repeated her sister's actions, nodding furiously, "Very good. And you, remember all the times you did something wrong and blamed it on her so that she would take your punishments for you?"

Jinah cried, tears and snot running down her sweaty face, "I'm sorry!" He shook his head, "Will saying a useless sorry change anything? Nope. Hit her harder, soldier," With a grin of approval, he moved on to your stepmother, "And you, recall all the times you kept her locked up in that prison cell you call her room?" Not wanting to suffer like her eldest, she nodded aggressively, "Good."

Finally stopping in front of your father, he crossed his arms over his chest, "And you, remember all the times you laid your hands on her? Your own daughter?" The former minister nodded quickly but was not spared, "Good, hit him even harder so he never forgets how it feels."

"Twenty-nine, thirty." The beatings stopped for the four women, and they collapsed one by one onto the floor like rag dolls. Blood trickled from their noses and the corners of their lips, their bodies covered in countless bruises and open wounds, soaking their clothes red. And that is only what can be seen on the outside; who knew what fatal internal injuries they could be suffering from.

With his hands propped on his hips, Seonghwa took in the sight with satisfaction, "Very well, some of these scars should last you for life. Now, you look as bad as the way you'd left my wife. Actually, worse. But that's good. I'm very happy with the outcome. Guards, take them away and make sure to send them to places where they're known to treat their servants poorly."

The girls sobbed upon hearing that, "General, please, have mercy! We've already suffered enough!" Your husband scoffed, "Mercy? Have you not been paying attention this entire time? I'm not known for that. Get them out of my sight."

As the guards dragged the wailing women out, they cried for their husband and father. The former minister yelled, still taking his twenty additional beatings as he watched his wife and daughters go, "W-will you not at least let me say my final goodbyes to them?"

"Minister, please don't make me laugh. Did you also allow my wife and her poor mother a final goodbye?" The old man had nothing to say at that, grunts of pain escaping his lips as he tried to endure the remainder of his punishment despite feeling like all of his insides had been beaten to mush at this point. He didn't have to look down to know that he was soaked in blood; he could feel the sting on his wounds whenever the slightest bit of wind blew past.

Just a bit more, and I'm free.

« Preview of Part 11 ��

"Forty-nine, fifty." Your father sighed in relief when the punishment finally ceased. Collapsing to the ground upon being untied, he stared blankly ahead, feeling pain throughout his entire body. Slowly but surely, he slipped into unconsciousness due to the loss of blood.

Unfortunately, his respite was short-lived. A bucket of dirty water was abruptly dumped over him, causing him to scream in agony as the injuries on his body stung intensely, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Did you think it was over?" His blood ran cold as he noticed he was now tied to a chair, unable to move. With most of the guards gone, only him and Seonghwa remained.

"What do you think you're doing, general? I've completed all my physical punishments; you're supposed to banish me now!" The old man croaked, his eyes widening in fear as he noticed the dagger in your husband's hand.

The general burst into laughter, "Oh, minister, you can be quite slow at times. Did you genuinely believe that His Majesty's decision not to sentence you to death was an act of kindness? Who do you think requested your exile?"

"Y-you—"

Seonghwa smirked, "Indeed, it was me. Killing you would have been too merciful. No, I want you to endure a life so filled with pain that you wish for death every single day. Now, after seeing how skilled you were at begging all day, I believe you'd make a very talented beggar. Do you know what would make you a successful beggar?"

Tears streaming down his face, your father shook his head hopelessly as your husband traced the blade against his skin before whispering, "One without limbs."

That was the most violence I have ever written HAHA I had to channel my inner Joker for Seonghwa's character. Anyway, I hope that was satisfying enough!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/5): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

707 notes · View notes

roosterbruiser · 1 year

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Can I request a Bradley thing where he goes in to get a tattoo and reader does his tattoo and he’s just super love stricken. Next thing he knows he’s going to get tattooed just to see reader till he finally asks her to go on a date??? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Honest to God, if Bradley knew that you were going to be the girl doing his tattoo today, he would've pretended to be sick to get out of the appointment. He would've just gone to a different tattoo place entirely. But it's too late now--he's here, sitting in your little cubicle with its potted plants and hand-drawn posters and knick-knacks and bluetooth speaker, and you're quietly humming as you look over his paperwork.

It isn't that he thinks you're incapable of doing his tattoo--God, no. You were the name that kept popping up when he asked around for artist recommendations, the highest rated artist in his area (and the surrounding three--but who's counting?). And he knows you'll do a good job because he's seen your work on other people and even if he hadn't, the posters on your wall are evidence alone. Bradley can draw a crude stick figure on a good day--so he is endlessly impressed with your skill.

It's just that you are the prettiest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. No, not just pretty--something above that. Beautiful, gorgeous. Fuck, you're ethereal even and Bradley hates people that say ethereal.

Everyone he talked to failed to mention that you are simply the prettiest person in every room you walk into and, Bradley knows just by looking at you, that you're probably the coolest person at every party you've ever been to.

You have big eyes that you wear bright colors on, which look almost too good against your skin and those pretty irises. Just looking at you legit makes Bradley want to bite his knuckle. You have a cool haircut, one that is polar opposite of all the Navy-issued chop-jobs he's so used to seeing, and your voice is raspy and lovely. You're wearing authentic vintage Levi's and a smooth bodysuit, one that hugs your body, one that shows the hills of your breasts so well.

Simply put--you're fucking perfect.

Perhaps the worst of it all is that you're so fucking nice. From the moment he walked through the door, you were all smiles, leading him back to your little area and talking him through everything without making him feel like an idiot. You were offering him drinks and asking what his ideas were and then complimenting his ideas. You were making all the little tweaks he wanted and not complaining about it even a little bit.

And now, as he sits on your table with his foot tapping incessantly on the tile, he's just watching your throat vibrate as you hum. It takes him a moment to recognize it, but when he does, it makes him want to rake his hands through his hair.

"Leather and Lace?" He asks you, perching a brow.

And the way you laugh, looking up at him with a bright grin as the sun kisses your face, should be illegal. You're about to put a needle to his skin and watch him cower in pain--he wishes you would take that into account and look less Goddess-like, for the sake of his ego.

"Stevie is my idol," you sigh, pointing casually to the portrait of her on your arm. He inspects it with a smile tugging at his lips, hoping his ears aren't as red as they feel. "You're a big music guy, then?"

He nods, slightly embarrassed. Isn't everyone a big music person? Who the fuck doesn't like music?

You like this guy--this guy that told you to call him Rooster for some reason. This guy who's wearing the ugliest vintage Hawaiian shirt you've ever seen. This guy who has a lewd pornstache, the one who somehow pulls off the lewd pornstache. God, this guy is still wearing his sunglasses inside, but he's just so goddamn cute. He has one of those infectious laughs and a headful of nice, sandy hair. He looks like California has kissed him--pretty. He just looks pretty.

But you can tell that he's nervous. Most people are before getting under the needle--you totally get it. Sometimes you still get nervous about it, too, despite having your arms almost all the way filled in. but you have a hard time imagining this hunk of a Navy man is nervous about a tattoo on his peck. Even just based on the scars littering his face and throat, you're certain he's been through worse.

"So," you sigh, moving your chair closer to him so he can see the paper in your hands that has the mock-up of his tattoo. He leans in and you get a whiff of sea salt and vetiver--God, he smells good. "I scaled down the legs just a bit. I was thinking some light shading through here and filling in here and here--is that okay with you?"

Rooster nods, swallowing hard, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"It looks good," he tells you. "Like really, really good."

You beam at him.

"Well, thank you," you say softly. "I'm a big art girl."

It makes something come loose in his chest--some breath he's had bated releases through his smiling lips. You're teasing him, you're joking with him. It feels good--natural.

"So, with this detail, I'm gonna put us at three hours. Does that sound good?"

Rooster nods immediately--his afternoon is entirely clear. But the prospect of getting to be with you for three hours is exciting--so exciting that it makes his throat tight. Needle be damned, he's going to get to listen to that laugh for three hours. Three!

"Sounds great," he tells you.

You grin, clapping your hands together.

"Well, I bet we're gonna be good friends by the end of this, huh?"

He grins. He already aches to kiss you and he doesn't even know you. Rooster does consider himself a hopeless romantic--but this is a whole new line he's crossing.

You point to his shirt, a slight blush covering your cheeks.

"You can go ahead and take that off now. I'm gonna prep the area."

As he obliges, he watches as you grab a little plastic razor and some paper towels. You're putting gloves on and still humming along to music that isn't playing, mentally cataloguing everything you're gonna need presently.

"Prepping the area includes--?"

You smile, standing up. He still hasn't taken his tank-top off yet, but you can tell already that this guy is fucking ripped. Not even in the usual California way--no, this guy is like movie-star ripped. He looks like he's been plucked out of a blockbuster.

"Shaving and disinfecting," you tell him, gesturing to the razor.

He nods, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he finally shrugs his tank and lets it fall into the chair he was sitting in.

"At least let me buy you dinner first," he teases.

Then you laugh--it's the first time he's really heard you laugh. He likes the sound, likes that you laugh with your mouth closed and your eyes wide.

"We'll see how the tattoo goes," you wink.

You're very careful as you shave and disinfect him, humming Stevie Nicks and Don Henley still. And you can feel his eyes lingering on your face as you work, but it doesn't bother you. He has pretty eyes--you're glad he's looking at you.

"Wanna be the DJ?" You ask with a grin, nodding towards the speaker.

Rooster feels like his heart is about to fall out of his ass. If he'd have known that he was going to be DJing this three-hour tattoos session with you--the prettiest girl he has ever seen--he would've made a playlist. Like, a proper playlist. One that is carefully curated and accounts for all possible avenues of this appointment. His dad used to make his mom mixed tapes--he still listens to them. Even though he thinks that making playlists is only a fraction as romantic, he understands that it's the modern mixed tape.

"Sure," he says softly, connecting his phone. "Are you exclusively a Fleetwood Mac girl?"

You shake your head, making sure all your ink is set out on their stabilizing beds of petroleum jelly and your gloves are intact. You pat the bed and he takes the hint, laying down while you adjust the light above you. Jesus, his muscles are practically rippling and he's not even doing anything.

"Mainly," you tell him, running your fingers along his peck and trying not to drool. "But I'm pretty diverse with my music. Hit me with your best shot."

Bradley suddenly feels nervous--put on the spot. It isn't even that he is about to have a needle against his skin. No, he was in Afghanistan, he doesn't really give a fuck about three hours of needle pricks. He cares about picking a song you think is lame. God, he'd just die of embarrassment if you didn't like what he chose.

As if you can sense his sudden nervousness, you grin up at him--it has the ability to completely relax his shoulders.

"C'mon, flyboy," you smile at him, readying your tattoo gun, "give it to me."

And suddenly Bradley can't breathe. You know that--it's why you said it. You watch him suck in a breath, watch him flounder for words, watch his pupils blow. Now he knows what it feels like for you to stare at his upsettingly beautiful midsection.

So Bradley gives it to you--very subtly turning on Hot Stuff by Donna Summer. It makes the both of you laugh--you even dance a little bit for him, in a silly and unserious way that makes his heart warm.

"Bet you're a good time at the bars," he tells you with a grin.

You nod rapidly, biting your lip.

"Oh, I'm the best to go to bars with," you tell him with a grin. "I dance and I sing and I drink."

"Triple threat," Bradley grins.

You nod again, chewing on your lip again. This guy is cute--like too cute for his own good.

"Few and far in between," you say, sighing. "I'm really a spectacle."

His heart is sitting in his throat. He loves the way you blush when you're being mockingly egotistical--he thinks that makes you genuine. Genuine and confident.

"I'd gladly spectate you at any bar," he says. You smile at him, the blush in your cheeks darkening as you narrow your eyes slightly. "You know, if you're up for it."

Your answer is a resounding yes--you know that already. But you can't just give it to him like that--you like to keep guys on their toes. Especially Navy boys.

"Actually, I have a two-tattoo minimum dating requirement," you sigh, shrugging.

He smirks at you. He can do this--he can do the chase.

"Is that so?"

You nod.

"Unfortunately," you say.

"What's your availability look like tomorrow?"

There's that sweet laugh again--it's bigger this time. God, Bradley loves to make you laugh. You just look so fucking happy. Happiness looks really, really good on you.

It isn't hard for him to imagine that you really are the best person to go to the bars with. He can imagine you in a pretty little skirt, sweat dampening your hairline as you twirl on the dance floor, the golden lights above you reflecting off the glitter on your eyelids. He can imagine that your warmth would be enough to heat the entire place. You seem like someone who is just down--down for anything and everything. He likes that.

"Ready?" You ask sweetly not a moment after, still laughing quietly.

He just nods, blinking rapidly at you.

The three hours honestly flies by. The pain really isn't all that bad, not when you're making conversation the entire time. By the end of the tattoo session, he knows where you grew up and that you don't have a boyfriend and that you have a cat named Strawberry and that you don't have a boyfriend and that your favorite food is street tacos and that you don't have a boyfriend and your first concert was Neil Young. Oh, and that you don't have a boyfriend.

And by the end of the tattoo, you know that Bradley is getting the tattoo in memory of his father, who was also in the Navy. You know that he has an affinity for Jerry Lee Lewis. You know that he has a vintage car and an endless collection of vintage Hawaiian shirts. You know he's gonna be stationed here indefinitely and that he hangs out at the local Navy bar--The Hard Deck. And you know that he is endlessly pleased that you don't have a boyfriend.

"Careful sitting up," you warn softly as you take your gloves off. "You've been laying down for a while. Want a hand?"

Bradley feels totally fine. He doesn't want to brag, but he's pushed his body to the brink in his life. Laying down for three hours having a conversation with the prettiest girl he's ever seen is like a luxury for him. But he wants to touch you--so he lets you grab his hand, lets you help him sit up.

And then the two of you are close--like close enough that he can smell that sweet, flowery musk on your skin. He can see the little flecks of his favorite color in your eyes and the way your lashes fan out over your cheeks.

And you can see his scars when you're this close, these pretty white lines that roll over his skin like ridges on a map. You like scars--as an artist, you think they're part of what make bodies art. They're the human equivalent to an eraser smudge.

He doesn't move for a moment, just looking down at you with that sweet smile, just letting his eyes wash over you. And you don't move from his gaze--you feel totally comfortable in it. You haven't known Bradley for long, but you're a good people reader. You can tell that this man, intrinsically, is a good person.

"Don't you wanna check out your new ink?" You ask with a teasing smile.

He makes a show of glancing down at his chest with his eyebrow perched. Then he hums and nods in approval. When he looks back up at you, you're biting a grin of your own.

"So," he starts softly. "Your availability tomorrow?"

eeeeek fun fact about me: I have eighteen tattoos! so it would by me greatest HONOR to write this little fic!!

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

am i the asshole for leading a guy on an low-key manipulating his feelings? (🐺 so i can find it later)

trigger warnings for mental health issues, family death, and suicide mentions.

title is kiiinda dramatic, i know. and i should be clear that i know that what i did was definitely wrong to a degree, but idk how messed up it was.

for context: i (19 f) was freshly seventeen and had just returned to in person school for my senior year after doing my junior year online at home. the majority of my best and only friend had forgotten me almost entirely and abandoned me despite our texting throughout my online year. new social circles had formed in my absence and i had a very difficult time readjusting, especially because i had come out of isolation with worsened anxiety, depression, and lowkey suicidal idealization. to top it all off, my grandfather who i adored had just died. i was desperately lonely and at the lowest i had ever been mentally in my entire life. i say this all not to excuse my actions but to provide some context as to why i acted the way i did.

so i meet this guy (i think like 15-16?) who we'll call finn. finn is a year below me but we share an elective class. we were initially drawn to each other bc we were both the only alt/geeky kids in the room and hit it off really well. and at first things are going pretty good; we eat lunch together every day, share music, talk about our interests etc. normal friend stuff.

but here's the part where i'm probably ta: finn had told me earlier on that he's the type to catch feelings super easy, so i guess i should've expected it, but he tells me that he has a crush on me. not directly though--he starts talking about this girl that he has feelings for but doesn't have the courage to confess to. and the first time he brought it up i didn't realize it was me and ofc tried to hype him up so he could confess and all that. but by the second conversation we have about it, it dawns on me that he's definitely talking about me. and i'm like "ah fuck," because the last person i wanted it to be was me--i'm mostly into girls, and also saw finn as a little brother more than anything else. but i keep hyping him up anyways saying stuff like "oh c'mon the worst she can do is say no! and even then you can at least move on with closure!"

so he takes my advice and confesses to me over text. i turn him down as politely as i can. which is where this whole thing should've ended tbh. but it didn't. his confession (even though it was over text) really endeared me and made me feel appreciated and beautiful in a way i never had been before. i'm not conventionally attractive + a plus size girl, and had never had anyone confess to me before, let alone say something as sincere and sweet as finn did to me. i was always the girl guys dared each other to ask out as a joke, yknow? it felt nice to know that someone saw me as desirable. again, this doesn't excuse my actions or justify them. just context.

so i decide that even though i know i'm not going to pursue anything with finn, i don't want him to lose interest in me either. so i start acting like i might be into him. tell him certain outfits make him look cute, go on and on about how much i love his hair (he really did have nice hair tbh), lean in a little closer when we talked, and constantly reassure him that he'd get a gf soon because good-looking, sweet and funny guys like him don't stay single for long.

he definitely notices bc he (again over text) asks if it's ok to be more physical when we interact. like can he hold my hand if we walk down the hall or whatever. this is definitely where i should've stopped, but i didn't. i kept up the pseudo-flirting bullshit.

and then he confesses (you guessed it! over text) for a second time, insisting that he really thinks that i like him back now. i tell him i don't know what he's talking about but that i'm happy to keep being friends with him. again, i don't stop the flirting-that's-not-quite-flirting.

this continues all the way until the end of the year. he tells me before i graduate that he really cares for me and doesn't want to lose touch after i leave. i promise him we won't. at this point i'd realized the gravity of my actions and had come to regret the way i treated finn, and decided the best course of action was to let our friendship fizzle out after i graduate. so i stop responding as frequently to him, he eventually stops reaching out until finally we lost contact and i delete his number.

i know that what happened was kinda fucked up, but how bad of a fuck up was this tumblr?

(secondary question: is this something that would've had a lasting impact on him and his view of relationships? i hope it isn't. i hope he forgot about me quickly. i hope he's doing better and has found someone who actually likes him.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Note

Can I pls have "you made me a better person" with Santiago Garcia?

A Better Person

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 650+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Santi deserved to have some soft fluff love

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Santiago Garcia Masterlist

Santi never thought he would settle down. He definitely dated, but no one seemed right, no one made him want to stay and look for no one else, no one made him feel special, important.

Until you came along.

It was unexpected, a random encounter out in the world rather than at a bar or on one of those dating apps. You’d both reached for the same random flavor of chip on the shelf, Santi nearly choking on air as he took you in, his stomach leaping into his throat. He made small talk, flirted a bit, and oh my God when you laughed, the entire world laughed with you. He asked you out and you seemed shocked, like no one had ever asked you out before.

That was a year and a half ago.

Inseparable, you and Santi had moved in together after a year, a big step that Santi had never thought to take with anyone else. But now that you’re here? Everyday? He was so happy he thought his heart would burst from his chest. Getting to wake up next to you every day was his own personal heaven on earth, listening to the little sleepy sounds he’d pull from you when he ducked his head under the covers and shifted between your thighs. He didn’t see how he could get any happier.

Well…there was one way.

It was grocery day and Santi and you were at the store, picking up the things on your list and also checking out some new items. He seemed a little extra handsy today, always wanting to be touching you, his eyes nearly never leaving you. You turn the corner and head down the next isle, pausing to reach up for the same flavor of chips that you’d reached for when you met Santi.

“We gotta have thes-”

Words die on your lips when you turn around, seeing Santi on one knee, gently taking your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Querida, before I met you, I was lost. I wasn’t the worst guy ever but I also wasn’t great. I’ve done some terrible things and I thought I was destined to just waste away, find no true love in this life. But then you came along and I was instantly drawn to you, falling in love the second you looked at me. I’m still shocked you agreed to go out with me,” He chuckles and you feel tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Every day with you has been the best day of my life. You made me a better person, a person worthy of your love, and for that, I am forever indebted to you. And I want to spend the rest of my life, and whatever lays beyond, trying to repay you. Querida, will you marry me?”

Santi holds out a small black box, opening it to reveal the most gorgeous ring you’d ever seen, exactly your style.

“Oh, Santi! YES! YES I would love to marry you!”

The widest smile stretches across Santi’s face as he slides the ring on your finger, standing up with a slight groan that was cut off by your lips on his, applause from the other customers fading in the background as you kissed him deeply, arms wrapping around his neck. He pulls back, putting his forehead to yours.

“I love you, querida.”

“I love you, Santi.”

Within a few months, you became Mrs. Garcia and never go a day without being loved.

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x female reader #santi x you #santi x reader #santi x f!reader #santi x female reader #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfic #oscar isaac character fanfiction #oscar isaac character ff #santi garcia

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evan4ever · 1 year

Note

I think I have a good idea for you write haha what about Evan taking reader to see her favorite artist (Taylor Swift or Harry Styles) but he is also planning to propose when they start singing her favorite song 👀 Like he proposes during Love Story by Taylor Swift or Love of my life by Harry Styles

And they didn’t go unnoticed by the artist

idk it is just an idea haha xx

Baby Just Say Yes

Evan Peters x reader

a/n: not me listening to love story and Great War on repeat throughout this entire fic 🙈🫶🏻 and omg this was so fun to write

—

Evan had surprised you for your birthday with 2 concert tickets to your favorite artist, Taylor Swift. It was 3 months before the concert but you could hardly wait, already having you concert outfit picked out and re-listening to every possible Taylor Swift song you could. Evan was ecstatic watching your excitement over the months only grow and the anticipation become more and more the closer it got. Though he was growing more and more nervous by each passing week leading up to, not for you but for himself, his plan. He had bought a ring the same time he bought the concert tickets — he wanted to propose to you at the concert during the perfect song.

‘Love Story’ by Taylor was your guys’ song. It was the moment you started dating and has been ever since. Not one single car ride went without playing it, even if only for one verse. It always put a huge smile on your face and that was something he lived and breathed for. His plan was perfectly planned out in his head, but of course worries and doubts had to creep in on him the closer he got. What ifs always eating at him once in awhile. But he did everything in his power to push them aside and keep his plan in place. It was everything he wanted, and everything he hoped you’d love.

The night came quicker than he’d expected it to. He was dressed in more causal wear — and long sleeve white T and black jacket over and some simple jeans. You, on the other hand, looked like a goddess in his eyes. You worse a deep V black tank top and some silver sparkly loose slack like jeans. Your hair curled and laid perfectly over your shoulders, your makeup darker than usual but beautiful nonetheless, breathtaking even. You had a few jewels place on the corners of your eyes and he couldn’t keep his eyes off the accent. You were jaw dropping and god, he wanted to paint this picture of you in his mind forever.

“Ready?” You smiled excitedly , your hands clasped together held under your chin and your shoulders up as you nearly jumped in the anticipation of seeing the woman you adored live tonight.

“Ready as ever.” Evan grinned hoping you wouldn’t catch on to his nervous, cracking voice. You let out a small, half contained squeal and took ahold of Evans hand pulling him with you out the door, him closing it behind him as you excitedly skipped down the hallway. Your personality was always outgoing, extroverted, bubbly even — you were a girl who loved to have fun and you never failed to smile as much as you could. People were drawn to you, happiness was drawn to you. It was something Evan really adored, you never failed to make his worst days better. There was no such thing as negativity when it came to you. It was just who you were. Perfect.

The car ride was filled with none other than Miss Swift herself, you singing along to every lyric as the wind from the rolled down window blew your hair back making each song that much more perfect. Evan would peak over at you with a large smile every few minutes and he hoped other people were admiring your true happiness as much as he was. It made him want to take you to every concert he possibly could just to see you this excited.

You both turned in your tickets and found your spots on the floor that was filled with so many other people who were just as excited as you. It didn’t take you long to befriend a few different groups and when Taylor herself came out in stage, Evan was sure you nearly passed out. She started the concert with the perfect song — Ready For It? — which you screamed every lyric perfectly along with the other girls who held onto you and you onto them. Your eyes were on Taylor through every song while Evan’s eyes were on you, not leaving your perfectly relaxed, beautiful body once.

He loved seeing you make friends so easy. Like before, people were drawn to you. It’s like they sensed the positivity you gave off and they just felt comfortable. It was just who you were. He stood close behind you girls to keep any possible threat away, and you’d look back to him with the widest smiles he’d ever seen to reassure yourself he was there and reassure him you hadn’t forgot about him, reaching out to take his hand at times and a few times turning and giving him the most loving, passionate kiss you could.

You were in your element and there was nothing more beautiful than it.

During her song ‘This Love’, another of your favorites, you had held onto him and sang it in his ear. Goosebumps all over his skin from your beautiful voice and kind words that were the lyrics. You sang with such meaning to him. He knew it was your words to him in the form of a song and it took everything for him not to propose to you then and there. God he just wanted to hear you say “yes” and to know that you wanted to be his forever, as much as he wanted you to be his forever. But he wanted it to be to ‘Love Story’. So, he contained himself and watched as you turned back to your new group of girlfriends and sang to the next few songs.

His heart thumped harder and louder in his chest as each song came and went, growing more eager for the moment to come.

Your hands were in the air, the music was blasting but all Evan could hear and focus on was your voice singing along to every song. All he could do was watch and admire the woman he was lucky enough to call his. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. If he could stay in this moment, watching you be so effortlessly perfect, he absolutely would.

And then he heard the start of the song he had been waiting for and his knees nearly gave out. His hand immediately reached to his back pocket for the millionth time to assure himself the ring was there placed in the beautiful maroon velvet box, his eyes closing in relief when he felt it. As soon as his eyes opened they met yours as you turned to him even more excited than before. It was your guys’ song.

You made your way to him, your hands snaking around his waist wanting to hold him to you so you could sing this one together. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you to him while you both watched Taylor sing, your own voices singing in unison to the words. You glanced up at him, him looking down feeling your gaze with a smile and you quickly went to your tip toes placing a kiss on his cheek and whispering an “I love you” in his ear before settling back on your feet and looking back out to the singer all while Evan’s eyes remained on you.

He went over it in his head again, waiting for the middle chorus to begin.

“Is this in my head I don’t know what to think he melts to the ground..” he whispered lowly in your ear, you smiling thinking nothing of it until he pulled away from you and as the song went on, he followed the words and once your eyes were completely on him, widening in realization, he pulled the box out and revealed to you the beautiful oval diamond.

“Marry me.”

It had felt like your heart stopped, sucking in a sharp breath at his words and blinking back the immediate tears that formed. The song continued playing but you were no longer paying attention, only watching the most beautiful picture unfold in front of you. Your hands had made their way to your chest, clinging on for dear life as you nodded.

“Yes…” your nodding got more aggressive as you dropped to your own knees in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Oh my god yes. Please, yes!” You cried tears of complete joy and passion, pulling his face to yours in a tear filled kiss. His own hands instantly found their way behind your head, holding you to him as you both laughed through the kiss before he pulled you into his arms in a tight hug. Your hands held him to you, never wanting to let this precious man go.

He used his own strength to bring you both back to your feet before parting himself from the hug while still keeping you close. You looked up at him then down to your hand that he had taken in his own, watching as he slid the beautiful ring onto your 4th finger, biting onto your bottom lip to keep happy sobs from escaping.

All eyes from the surrounding people were on you, but neither of yours ever left each other never minding them. ‘Sparks Fly’ began playing and you couldn’t even comprehend the perfect timing. You let out a breathless laugh as you gazed back down at the ring that was now on your finger, looking back up to meet Evan’s eyes that still never left you.

“It’s so beautiful, Evan..” you whispered and brought him back in for a hug. Your hands found their way into his hair for your comfort, your eyes closing as your head rested in the crook of his neck. You felt his lips place a gentle kiss against your temple before he lowered his head near your ear, placing another kiss.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you.”

—

Tags: @evanpetersmood @witchsbitchestime @demxnicprxncess @yes-divine-ruler @shjjpm @evanpsrealwife @iruzias @jangsuzchap @quicksilversg1rl l @submissiveforahsmen @angelmenace @lovelizzie-blog1 @justa19 @daylas-life

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bonefall · 11 months

Note

I wanted to ask something queer because it’s pride month but I can’t think of anything… do you have any queer bb rewrite stuff to talk about?

HERE, have a queer jumble of a bunch of the gay changes in BB;

As far back as DOTC, Thunder Storm was transmasc. His childhood best friend is also his lover; Lightning Cry.

There is a third gender in Clan Culture; Meewa. Gray Wing was Meewa and to this day, the role is associated with parenthood and wisdom.

Bumble and Turtle Heart were mates.

The Clanmew parental terms are decoupled from gender; the Mi is the primary parent, a Ba is a secondary.

For an example; Breezepelt is the Mi of his litters, Harestar and Heathertail were both Ba.

In Clanmew, Harestar had so many Ys in his warrior name (Yywayayiaoyyr) that Breezepelt got the kits to call him Yya.

Bluestar was queer. She had strange relationships with almost everything personal, but the only thing that matters is how much she LOVED her friends and how far she would go for them

The entire Forget-me-not friend group was queer in some ways.

And Bluestar’s friend Rosetail, turns out she's aromantic!

She loves romance, matchmaking, but eventually realized she doesn't like being in one. She just likes the idea a lot.

So of course Thistleclaw was PISSED when his sister claimed Queen’s Rights and adamantly refused to name a father.

She matched up her son Redtail with Runningwind, I like to think she was a very "when am i getting grandkits" kind of mom

Redtail was trans, but also gave birth to his children. That was Sandstorm and Longtail.

Redtail's transness was why Bluestar gave Dustpaw to him, she could see that Dust was working something out and hoped that Red would help

Dustpelt is genderqueer! He doesn't conform to the expectations of toms for his society; construction is largely a molly activity.

One-eye was a legendary builder in her time. It was a high honor when she came out of retirement to mentor him, when she was nearly 20 years old no less!

Cinderpelt was a lesbian, but there wasn't really anyone in the Clan she was interested in. Meh.

I do want to write a little scene where she goes to BloodClan to learn about mobility devices to help Wildfur, and has an AWOOGA moment at Cody

Leafpool and Mothwing are in love with each other, and look forward to every meeting. But they serve their Clans above all. The yearning.

I am very partial to Daisy x Squirrelflight, loooong in the future, after Squirrelflight has found fulfillment in her family and mentorships.

Conversely the untapped potential of Spiderleg x Bramblestar is unmatched. Nightmare husbands, this is the funniest thing I've ever heard of

Heartbreaking! the worst people you know have gotten gay married

Brokenstar and Runningnose were so gay I don't even have words for it, there's homosexual and then there's whatever the hell is going on over there

"My childhood best friend is a manifested curse and I would do anything for him, so I dedicated my whole life to becoming a more ruthless and brutal asset to serve his wants and desires, rejecting the stars and walking into the netherworld with glee, and only finding that it is hell because he isn't there. When you look between us, it's impossible to tell which of us was the monster, and which was the man, and yet I have never made a choice that I wouldn't make again."

Blackstar was aromantic! Russetfur was his lifelong best friend and partner, her death devastated him

He had flings and friends with benefits, though. Specifically, he's homosexual/aromantic.

Russetfur was gay too, I'm not sure if she ever had a wife though

I haven't drawn her yet but I see her as butch. Also she had large eyebrows.

Rowanclaw, honor sired for Newtspeck, was transtom

His apprentice, Talonclaw, survived the mauling because Smokefall did not die in the mountain this time around! They had a summer wedding

Irony struck when Rowan's kid Tigerheart also ended up being trans, but transmolly

Funny coincidence that everyone around Rowan ends up being queer

Tigerheart, who later becomes Heartstar, was in love with Dovewing from the moment they were apprentices on the Beaver Quest, before she even hatched

Dovewing dated Bumblestripe, even choosing him and ThunderClan over the instability of running off with Tigerheart

But when she got pregnant she SKEDADDLED

Lightleap and Shadowsight are biologically Bumble's, but Heartstar adopted them immediately

Heartstar is incredibly smug about this. "My wife. My kids. Cry about it"

Ivypool went through something similar, in a pretty bad relationship with Blossomfall and eventually getting with Fernsong

Only Fernsong is NOT smug, he's an ex-kittypet who joined during ThunderClan's Tempest and BOY HOWDY did he not want to make waves

But now he's dating the deputy's grandchild (thru Lionblaze), has an angry Blossomfall on his ass, and.... it's worth it lmao, have you seen his wife? Marvelous

He is the Mi of the children, this is the life for him

Thriftear and Plumstone are gay

Over in RiverClan, Hawkfrost and Reedwhisker were an item and were going to get serious... but then, well. Hawkfrost went through TNP and ended up dead.

In SkyClan, Violetshine, Dragonfly, and Tree are a polycule

I'm not quite sure what's going on with Echosong, Leafstar, and Billystorm. But Leaf and Billy are together, and I think Leaf has a thing with Echo. But Echo and Billy are not together, and Echo isn't involved with the kittens.

This isn't a queer thing but Sharptooth's wife Cherrytail was spayed. I think Hawkwing and co were surrogated by Echosong, but I'm not sure yet

But I do know that Cherry did not birth those kittens

Over in WindClan, I combined Jake and Sparrow into one character. Tallstar’s Collapse is reworked into Talltail traveling around with him and his group, until ultimately, he realizes it's not that easy to leave his Clan behind

I want to approach it as a tragedy, that he couldn't stay somewhere he was truly loved and happy

He was raising kids with Jake, two orphans they found. One of them followed him, even though he tried to tell him to stay with Jake and his sibling

That kid becomes Flytail, and then Flylight as an honor title

Sunstrike and Furzepelt are gay, and Furze is going to be an AVOS save thanks to Brushblaze, Breezepelt, Harestar, Heathertail, Crowfeather, and two more cats I haven't picked yet

Speaking of Brushblaze, Leo is an ex-BloodClan trader who joined WindClan to be with Onewhisker

It fell apart and he's been bitter about it ever since

Onestar is a disaaaaaaaster

He had a fling with Firestar before Fire realized he was aromantic, and it never would have worked anyway since Firestar was leading a clan

He always had an excuse for why he wasn't doing PDA with Brush, but while he was going through apprenticeship (despite being a qualified adult cat, very frustrating) Onewhisker was seeing Smoke

I kinda just want to remove Onewhisker having Whitetail as a mate entirely, I already fixed the apprenticeship thing but I kinda just like him having someone honor dam for him and he raised Heathertail alone

And lastly, Firestar

Firestar is totally aromantic.

He honor sired Sandstorm's kittens and raised them with her, because she is a deeply reliable friend and ally. They're in a QPR!

There's definitely a couple I missed (toadnettlepool, Sedgecreek x Greenflower) but that's enough for now

#HAPPY PRIDE MONTH #Queer #Better bones au

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forgodsgoddamnsake · 1 month

Text

HELL'S ANGELS - 2nd

Warning: Harry's kinda mean-not all the time bc you're mean too lol-, violence, mentions of ra#pe, murder, guns, language, mentions of prostitution, smut (NOT WITH YOU and i didn't write it in details)

As I sit there in the coffee shop to get a cup of cappuccino, my eyes wander, looking through the glass window. The cup, which is held between my hands, warms me. On the other hand, Harry’s diving in his own curiosity, wondering what has just happened with Alessandro.

“So?” He asks, falling into the trap of being the first to speak. My eyes’ attention is drawn back to Harry’s eyes. I bite my bottom lip as I think of what should be spoken about and what should not.

“What do you know about the Scavo?” I ask.

“Well, the Scavos were not a powerful family, they struggled so much in life and they blame it all on the powerful families. Once Alessandro ruled, they started getting more power and money. That’s it in a nutshell.”

“That’s right, but you don’t have the full story. My family had helped the Scavo because they were just so poor, my grandfather and my father after him really tried providing them with money, work, anything. Alessandro’s mother used to work as my nanny, she stayed with us to take care of me. I grew up with Elio and Alessandro, and Alessandro fell in love with me. When he became the ruler of the Scavo he told me that he loved me, I liked him, as well.” I stop, not wanting to tell the full story. But Harry won’t budge until he gets it.

“Go on.” He encourages, inspecting my face to search for an expression.

Sighing, I continue, “He told me that he wanted to marry me, at some point I really thought about it, but then when I told Elio about it, he told me that I shouldn’t even consider Alessandro. The Scavo built their families by pimping out girls, they still use prostitution to become wealthier, more powerful. Alessandro was the one that started the whole thing, but that’s not the worst of them. I already know that prostitution can still be a part of the families.”

“Exactly, what’s new about it? I know many families that are still involved in the human trafficking industry.”

“I could not accept that. I wanted to speak with Alessandro to talk him out of it, I went to his villa only to find him raping a girl. I can swear to god, that girl was barely sixteen.”

I get lost in my thoughts, absent-minded. My body is with Harry, but my mind drifts away to the day I went to Alessandro’s villa, hearing muffled screams of a girl. Two years later and I can still hear her broken voice, begging him to stop. That day, I walked up the stairs and put my ear on the door, I had to make sure what I was hearing war right. Her broken voice that was interrupted by his grunts, gave me goosebumps all over my body, I could feel the hairs in the back of my head stand. Slammed the door open only to see the worst image I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I’ve seen a lot of bad scenes. As he got off of her, I threw her the clothes she had on and covered her with my black coat. Without a word, I helped her up on her feet, she was still crying like a baby. A broken baby. When I heard him telling me, ‘It’s not what it looks like’., I snapped. I pulled out my gun and pointed it at his head, his eyes closed, but I couldn’t shoot. Till this day, I have no idea why I didn’t shoot him. I should have shot him.

I don’t realize that I’m speaking to Harry. I think I’m just having thoughts, but I’m having the thoughts out loud.

“We were friends, I liked him. I can still remember all the good times we had together, but every memory was ruined by that day.” I say, not taking my eyes off of the vain.

Harry doesn’t know what to say, lost in his own thoughts of what I’ve just told him.

“Do you want to take him down?” He asks, gritting his teeth.

I look him in the eyes, his eyes have the same desire to break Alessandro just like mine.

“You don’t even have to ask.”

He spreads his hand to me, “Then, let’s take the son of a bitch down.”

I look at his hand before giving him mine, shaking his hand.

That deal will become the root Harry and I put down. The root to our first real interaction as partners, working on the same side instead of working against each other. Just like I hate human trafficking, Harry despises it. And just as much as Harry hates Alessandro, I despise him, as well.

My phone rings and I see the name of Bianca on the screen, I pick up the phone, “Shit! I totally forgot.” I say before answering, “Hello, beauty, sorry I’m not available now. Reschedule?”

The voice of Bianca yells from the other end, “No! Get your ass here right now!”

“I’m with Harry, Bianca.”

“I don’t care who y- wait? Harry? Your fiancé? Oh my god bring him with you! I want you here in five minutes tops.” Her tones go from up to down and then up again before she hangs up.

My eyes look at Harry’s face, “Wanna come? No? I thought so.” I ask and answer in a matter of seconds, not giving him the opportunity to answer.

“Hey, hey! Go where?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“Ugh, Bianca is making me try the dress I chose for the wedding. She wants you to come.” I say, gathering my things to leave, standing up.

He stands up as well, “I’m coming with you.” He smirks, loving annoying me.

We leave the coffee shop and get into the car, I start the engine only to hear him laughing out of nowhere. I look at him, raising my eyebrows, “Are you crazy?”

“It’s just funny imagining you in a wedding dress.” He answers, still laughing at the image of me in a white dress.

“Why’s that? Am I that unfit to wear a wedding dress?” I start driving, irritated.

“Well, yeah.”

“What?”

“You’re not the usual girly.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone.

“You prefer weak girls? Sorry, you’re not marrying one.”

“I don’t prefer weak girls, and certainly don’t prefer you.”

“Bite me, Harry.” I roll my eyes as he’s scrolling on his phone.

“Bitch.” He mutters.

“Son of a bitch.” I mutter.

As I pull over by the place I should go and act like I give a fuck, I snatch my purse and get out, forgetting that I have a guy walking next to me. To be honest, I’m not forgetting him, I’m pretending to forget his existence. His tall figure, on the other hand, is not forgettable.

I walk in just to be hugged out of nowhere by Bianca who looks super excited. The place is full of white wedding dresses on mannequins everywhere. Harry smiles to himself, I don’t know that just like I don’t know that he’s loving the idea of being with me to try wedding dresses. Harry has been living the life of a king, has countless women to sleep with every day, owning whatever place his foot steps in. He knows that his ego is similar to mine. As if he owns whatever on top of the earth and what’s underneath.

Bianca pulls away from the hug, “Hi, Harry.” She says, shaking Harry’s hand, shyly. He shakes her hand back and smiles at her shyness.

To my surprise, I see Elio sitting on a luxurious couch in front of the fitting rooms, having a nap. I walk to him and lean down to his ear, “Elio!” I yell as he jumps in his place, looking around like a lost puppy.

“What? Is there a problem with the deal?” He, sleepily, asks. I laugh at him before drawing my attention to the assistant that will bring the dresses for me to try on.

Harry takes a seat next to Elio who’s cursing me, Harry chuckles and says hi to Elio.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, taking off his suit jacket and placing it next to him.

“Bianca forced me. She needs someone to control y/n.” Elio answers, rubbing his eyes.

“Is it that hard?” Harry arches a brow.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Elio says, watching as Bianca forces me to take off my jacket.

Harry watches us as well, chuckling as I’m arguing with Bianca.

“Bianca, you don’t want me to take it off.” I argue, trying to hold onto my jacket that she’s trying to undress me of.

“No way, take it off!” She insists as she pulls it off only to be surprised that there’s a bulge under my bodysuit. Her hand enters my bodysuit through the collar, touching me to catch whatever this bulge is.

“Hey! That’s harassment.” I playfully accuse her just when she pulls out my knife from its housing, she raises the knife to look at it in disbelief.

“A knife, y/n!?” She exclaims.

“Did you expect a dick under my bodysuit?” I smirk and she just stares at me. I notice Harry and Elio laughing at us from the couch, enjoying the situation.

“A bride with a knife under her clothes, how convenient!” She scoffs, walking to Elio to hand him the knife. Elio takes it from her and places it between Harry and him.

Harry and Elio laugh harder as they watch me pull out a couple of bullets from my bra, handing them to the surprised Biana whose mouth is open wide.

“Y/n, all of them.” Elio demands with a smile on his face.

I roll my eyes and pull out a Swiss knife from my jeans pocket, I hand it to the open palm of Bianca. She gives me a look, not believing that’s all I have.

“What? There’s nothing else.” I cross my arms. My eyes draft to Elio who’s chuckling and then to Harry who has a wide smile on his face.

He will deny it, but he’s having fun. Bianca walks again to Elio to give him the bullets and my Swiss knife then walks back to me with a threatening look, pointing her finger at me, “If I find any more weapons on you while we’re in the fitting room, I’ll make Harry strip search you.”

I am startled by her bringing up Harry in her words. On the other hand, Harry is smiling, “Will be my pleasure.”

I look at her with a confused face, “Why him?”

“Because it’ll be weird to make Elio do that.” She answers, simply, dragging me to the fitting room.

As I try arguing with Bianca to let me try the dress I chose earlier, she finally lets me try it after a hundred dress I hate. I look at my reflection in the mirror, this is what I look like in a big wedding dress. Like a beautiful woman in a wedding dress, I look. With no weapons on me, my fingers feel the fabric of the dress. Bianca looks at me with teary eyes, fingers intertwined, she thinks I’m the most beautiful bride she’s ever seen.

“Let’s show them the dress.” She says, opening the door of the fitting room.

“Isn’t it bad luck when the groom sees the bride in the wedding dress?” I ask.

“Nonsense, he has to see you! C’mon.” She encourages, helping me out of the fitting room. As I walk out of the fitting room, Harry’s eyes catch me walking towards them. His eyes inspect me from head to toe, he inspects my hourglass shape in the sparkly fabric, my skin tone, my cleavage, my hair that stops at the small of my back, and my face. I only see the warm smile that creeps on his face before I’m interrupted by Elio who takes me into his arms in a tight hug.

“You’re like a princess.” Elio says to me, pulling away from the hug and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smile at his words before my I eyes look at my groom. But my groom has left, his seat is empty.

“Where did he go?” I ask Elio who looks at Harry’s empty seat.

“I don’t know, he was just here.”

I have no clue why, but my heart aches that he just left without I could see what look he had in his eyes when he saw me in the wedding dress. I didn’t get the chance to tease him, or to hear him give me a smirky response. In a minute he was there, and in a minute, he was no longer there. His absence has deeply affected my state, and I don’t have a clue why.

I am caught up in business. Going through meetings and controlling deals has been exhausting to the maximum, adding that Bianca won’t shut up about the wedding preparations. Getting Harry’s absence as he saw me in the wedding dress out of my mind has been quite challenging, but I put up with it just fine.

I still don’t want to marry him, I can’t see myself marrying, plus he’s a person I barely know. If I barely know him, then why am I so upset that he left me out of the blue?

The truth is, Harry didn’t like the feeling that he was happy seeing me wearing the wedding dress. Fear of liking me has started crawling into his head when he felt his heart hammering, looking at my attire. This is an arranged marriage, he shouldn’t like the bride, he shouldn’t pay her so much attention, his heart shouldn’t beat that fast. Or so he thinks. Because as a matter of fact, he likes me and that isn’t right to him.

Neither of us has given the wedding preparations any attention, we just know that tomorrow is the big day. Tomorrow, we will be destined to stay together for the rest of our lives, tomorrow the sun of loneliness will set only for the new sun of unity to rise. This day, Harry has decided to spend his night with his lovely Bella, a prostitute that he has claimed for himself a long time ago, she’s a blondie with beautiful blue eyes and she doesn’t act like a hooker so that’s why he gives her special attention. Right before the day he’ll get married, he’s fucking a prostitute in his bedroom. He has her pinned on the bed, hovering above her as he’s thrusting in and out of her in silence. Harry’s so focused on fucking his feelings, anger, desperation, out on her. Her screams, face, and the rest of her body are given little to no attention at all unlike what he’s used to. His mind is focused on reaching his high without any images of you interrupting his thoughts. He can hear Bella screaming that she’s cumming, but he just continues roughly fucking her senseless until he finally reaches his high. He falls down next to her on the bed, panting. The room is dark and only a ray of light creeping through the bedroom’s window, and through the darkness he can see me on his mind, walking towards him in the wedding dress. My features are drawn in his head as he remembers me, he huffs, disappointed in himself. He takes off his condom only to throw in the bin next to his bed. His posture is straightened, sitting on the edge of the bed, head between his hands, trying to throw the thoughts away. He’s not supposed to like me, he thinks. Everything he likes and sees in me only become more and more provoking.

He feels Bella’s arms crawl on his shoulders, fingers sneak on his skin just like her head that’s placed on his other shoulder. Speaking in a soft voice, she asks, “Why the long face, Harry? You’re never silent during sex.”

“Sorry, Bella.” He only manages to apologize, raising his head from his hands as he feels her breasts on his back.

“Don’t apologize, I just wanna know what’s on your pretty head.” She says, playing with his hair. With no clue, Harry doesn’t know why he’s hating her touch, though he’s never hated it before.

“Tomorrow.” He manages, eyes are looking at the floor.

“Not excited to being a married man?”

“No.”

“Is the bride ugly?” She asks, liking the idea of Harry thinking that his bride is ugly.

“No!” He answers in a harsher tone than he intends. “She’s so beautiful, she-You should go, Bella.” He says softly, gently removing her arms off of his body.

Bella’s startled face nods before she stands up to wear her clothes, while Harry is still on the bed, lost in his own mind, not even hearing Bella’s voice as she says her goodbye. Her eyes go down, leaving his bedroom and closing the door behind her on Harry’s lost mind.

Meanwhile, I’m in the balcony, drinking a cup of tea and smoking a cigarette, thinking of tomorrow. The future is terrifying. The past, once, was the future. If we knew the future, would it matter for the past? Would life become better if we had the precise knowledge of time? I am utterly unaware of what life has for me, but is that a good thing? I do not have any idea how life with Harry will be, but I’m certain that I’m uncertain.

The wedding day.

Without the both of us realizing it, Harry and I are both looking at our reflections in the mirror. He’s inspecting his image in his own mirror, in his room, while I’m inspecting my image in my own mirror, in my room. My fingers feel the silver dress I have on my body, carving my shape. The makeup I have on only exudes my beauty, and the nails I have on only show how pretty my hands are, and every effort in my look only screams beauty. On the other hand, Harry is watching how handsome he looks in his expensive tuxedo. He hates the bow around his neck as much as I hate the high heels on my feet. But both of us, don’t look happy.

The wedding ceremony is right down there, in Paolo’s gardens of the mansion. But I’m still in my room, and Harry’s now is waiting for me. As I sit on the edge of my bed that I’m leaving for good, the door opens and I see Paolo along with Elio entering my room, I get a glimpse of my bridesmaids standing outside in their black dresses. My face doesn’t have the slightest trace of happiness, and both Elio and Paolo notice.

“Sei bellissima.” My father says, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he looks at his beautiful daughter in a wedding dress. Any father’s best day of life, is the day they see their beloved child in a wedding dress, ready to start their own families.

“She really is beautiful, uncle.” Elio agrees, noticing my sad face. Elio squats to level with my face, holding my hand. “Don’t be sad, everything will be alright, I promise.”

“I don’t wanna leave you and father.” I confess, trying not to cry, and with no doubt, I succeed.

“You’re not leaving, you’ll be living less than fifteen minutes away.” Elio assures me.

Though my father wants to calm me down, he doesn’t do that. Instead, my father says in a husky voice, “Get a grip, y/n! You’re doing this for the family.”

Elio hates the tone of my father, because Elio always has had a soft spot towards me, he treats me like a girl unlike my father. I nod at my father’s words and stand up, chin up, “I’m ready.” I say, confidently, sucking in every sadness in me.

Elio stands up again, sighing deeply as I take off of the room, arm in arm with Paolo. The bridesmaids are following as I take my steps down the stairs before walking to the gardens. The golden-colored and white flowers are everywhere, the welcome stand has my name and Harry’s on, the giveaways of candles for the guests are set on a beautiful wooden wide table. Everything seems like I’m marrying the love of my life, but I’m not, I’m marrying someone I don’t know. The veil that’s following me, I should love, but I don’t. The guests who’re enjoying their time, watching the bride walk down the aisle, I could not give a careless about. All I see is the beautiful altar that is decorated beautifully with light veins and flowers, and I can also see the man waiting for me at the end. A man whose hair is brushed back and eyes are watching every step I take along with my father. He looks handsome in jeans, but he looks even more breathtaking in a tuxedo.

As Harry’s standing there, he looks like he’s seeing a lovely painting, painted by Van-Gogh. His heart is hammering as my father brings him in a hug before he finds my hand in his. We both make our way to the priest, standing opposite to each other. None of us dare to look at each other, but we have to.

I raise my eyes up to see how handsome my future husband is. The dimples that are hidden because he’s not smiling, the pink lips which I will kiss, the skin of his face, the eyelashes, the green eyes that look like grass after a rainy day, all of this shall be mine. But will they actually be mine?

He raises his eyes up to see how gorgeous his future wife is. The painted full lips, the body carved by gods, the smile that’s missing, the thick lashes, the tone of skin, the hazel eyes that look like the sun after a rainy day, all of this shall be his. But will they actually be his?

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to witness and celebrate the holy union of Y/N and Harry. Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church” The priest says, pulling both of us of our thoughts.

Harry takes a deep breath, following the priest’s words, “I, Harry Styles, take you, Y/N Cappitani, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life”

His words mean so much, yet so little.

I sigh, deeply, following the priest’s words, “I, Y/N Cappitani, take you, Harry Styles, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life”

I don’t mean a single word I say. I don’t know you, Harry. I think.

The priest says his blessing over the wedding rings. Tyler, Harry’s friend brings him my ring. Slipping the ring on my finger, Harry says following the priest’s words, “Y/N, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”

I automatically do the same, placing the ring around his finger, following the priest’s words, “Harry, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”

I get lost in my thoughts again, I don’t hear a word the priest says, but I only get snapped out of it once I hear the word ‘Kiss’. Oh, hell no.

My eyes wander between Harry and the priest, shaking my head no, but Harry only grins at me.

“Kiss?” The priest asks, looking at me while shrugging his shoulders.

“Of course not! My father is here.” I refuse and everyone bursts into laughter. Paolo laughs, nodding his head at me as an approval.

“We have to kiss.” Harry’s grin widens, pulling at my hand so I stand in his arms. His body is rock-hard or I feel so. I can feel the heat up my cheeks, not letting my eyes off of the guests, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“I can’t kiss a boy in front of my father!” I state only for the laughter to grow louder.

“Just kiss him already!” Elio yells, chuckling at me.

“I’m your husband now, I can kiss you whenever I want.” Harry whispers into my ear and I only feel my cheeks getting hotter. I have never been in a situation like this.

With wide eyes, I feel Harry’s hands cupping my cheeks and pulling my head slightly forward. His head leans down, his breath hits my lips right before his lips gently touch mine. His lips are the softest lips I’ve ever felt in my entire life, his minty breath draws me into kissing him back. I can feel the warmth that suddenly hit my whole body just by the touch of his lips, and I can feel the butterflies growing in my stomach. The kiss is gentle and sweet, and it feels so good to kiss someone you’re meant to kiss. Pulling away, I sigh with my lips apart, I want to kiss him again, I shouldn’t. Get a grip! I think.

Harry’s grin fires my craving to his kiss again, but the cheering I hear stops me. His eyes look more beautiful from this distance.

The celebration is nice, but my head is still lingering on the memory of my first kiss with Harry. Elio has a lot of fun, dancing with girls here and there, enjoying his time. Everyone seems to be happy with the unity of the Cappitani and the Styles. After a while, as Harry and I are sitting next to each other, having glasses of champagne. Elio clicks on his glass to make a toast.

“Oh God, he’s gonna tell an embarrassing story.” My palm finds my forehead, Harry smiles and watches Elio who stands up from his chair and grabbing the mic from someone I don’t care to know.

“Hello everyone,” He starts, talking from the mic. “We’re here to celebrate the wedding of my beautiful y/n. Y/n is the most amazing person you can ever know in your life, she has the biggest heart although she’s very bad at showing it.” Everyone laughs. “She’s independent, powerful, strong, and every good quality in the book. Don’t worry, y/n, I won’t talk about the time you punched a guy just because he confessed his love to you. I hope you don’t punch Harry today.”

“I will.” I smile, giving him a thumbs up as Harry’s giggling next to me.

“And Harry, if you ever have trouble controlling her, call me.”

“I’ll take care of it, Elio.” Harry replies, chuckling.

“The last thing I wanna say is, Y/n is my sister, she’s everything in my life, she’s the backbone every guy needs in life. Harry, she will stand tall in the darkest times even if you wish to get down on your knees, she’ll always pull you up. Y/n will move heaven and earth for someone she cares about, so make sure to be that someone. To Y/N and Harry!” He raises his glass and everyone follows, cheering and clicking their glasses.

I smile to Elio who smiles back at me. I love him more than he even can realize.

A couple of people make their toasts, but as the last one is making his toast, “I wish you both the b-“

He’s interrupted by a loud clicking sound on a glass, our eyes follow the sound. The sound comes from the glass Alessandro holds in his hand as he stands by Harry and I’s table. He has a black suit on, but the bags under his eyes are darker than his suit. His silver hair is messy and he looks terribly sad.

“It’s my time to make a toast!” Alessandro starts, eyes look crazy as he watches men stand up and before our men grab their guns, Alessandro’s men raise their guns up, I notice two of them holding machine guns pointing them at everyone. Harry looks startled but makes a good job hiding it, but he can’t lift the gun under his jacket as one of Alessandro’s men point their own gun at his head. How are they here? The mansion should be protected.

“No need for violence, for now.” Alessandro says, deepening his voice at the last part. “I wanna say, Y/n has played a huge part in my life. An excruciating part, actually. I fell in love with everything about her, every little detail, hear me?” His words are directed to Harry, eyes are crazy with anger as he’s looking at Harry. Harry’s lips turn upside down in both disgust and anger, wishing he can shoot Alessandro in the head. “She was so sweet to me, so beautiful. Honey, I never could see you in another man’s arms, I couldn’t let him have you. You saved yourself for me, remember? You fucking saved yourself for me! How could you?” As his words turn to me, his tone of voice gets nicer and softer. I look him in the eyes with no expression, getting comfortable in my chair, arms crossed. “You just come and take her? Huh? What do you even know about her? Tell me Harry, what’s y/n’s favorite color?”

“Black.” Harry answers, confidently. The answer is correct.

“Oh yeah? What’s her favorite meal? What angers her? What’s her favorite place?” Alessandro walks closer to Harry, the glass in his hand shakes as his hand shakes.

“Pasta. Disrespect and underestimation. Paul’s coffee shop.” Harry answers, looking into Alessandro’s black eyes with nothing but confidence, certainty and rage.

I am surprised that he gets all the answers right, but my eyes are still on Alessandro who’s annoyed and insane. “Are you done?” I ask in monotonic voice.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” He asks, moving behind my chair.

“Very.” I answer as I feel his nose brush onto my hair, sniffing me. His eyes close as he breathes in my scent.

“If you touch her, I’ll blow your brains out.” Harry growls, biting his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, darling. He knows better.” I smirk as Alessandro’s face is in sight, his face is dangerously close to mine. Everyone’s eyes are on the situation, not even one person can pull up their gun. Women and girls looking afraid, fear eating their skins.

“Do I, Y/n? All I wanna do is touch you.” His hand hovers above my cheeks, wanting to touch me but not actually doing so. “I wanna touch you so bad.”

“Are you done?” I ask again, glaring at him.

“No! He!” He pulls up his black metal gun and points it at Harry’s forehead in frustration. “He took you from me.”

“Exactly, so gather your puppies and get out or I won’t be so nice.” Harry makes eye contact with Alessandro, not intimidated by the guns pointed at him.

“Let’s be clear, Alessandro. If you harm Harry, I’ll kill you. I should’ve done that when I had the chance.” I say, slowly.

Alessandro’s eyes go down, feeling a gun under his chin. My gun. No one has imagined that a bride will have a gun under her dress, but I do. I hold the gun, the tip of my gun right under his chin. Temptation eats me to kill him.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Alessandro softens his voice, not believing that I’d do that.

“Try me.” I shrug.

“But I love you!” He screams, crazily.

“I don’t give the slightest fuck. Tell your men to leave. NOW!” I shout the last part, feeling the gun’s weight heavies in my hand due to the fact I’m fighting the urge to shoot.

A moment of silence. I know Alessandro thinks of every possibility to kill Harry without losing me, but he can’t. His face darkens with more sadness and lowers his gun, nodding his head at his men. They put down their guns but stand still.

“Now all of you leave!” I order, not lowering my gun. Alessandro straightens up to swallow his glass of champagne to the last drop, then looks at me.

“You’re the most beautiful thing in the world.” He says with complete adoration eating his eyes, but suddenly he’s snatched and thrown on the table in front of me with a loud thug.

Harry has snatched him by the collar and thrown him on the table, Harry who’s pinning Alessandro down, hand holding him by the collar while his other hand is holding onto his gun and pointing at Alessandro’s forehead. My eyes widen as all of this happens in a matter of seconds, jumping up from my seat. Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed, lips turned upside down and eyes are just wide with rage.

“Hahaha,” Alessandro laughs after he’s swallowed the surprise. “Do it, please. She’ll be the last thing my eyes see.”

“Don’t fucking mention her one more time! She’s MY wife! She’s all mine! She’s my wife, you piece of shit!” Harry sees red as he’s yelling in Alessandro’s face.

Our families’ guns are pointed now at Alessandro’s men and I see Elio standing next to me, pointing his gun at the guy who had a gun at Harry’s head a minute ago. “Don’t even think about it.” Elio growls at the guy.

The whole situation is complete and utter chaos. That’s what happens every time Alessandro makes an appearance.

“She’ll never be yours, she loves me. She’s always loved me.” Alessandro’s voice is daring.

I see the guy Elio’s pointing at is taking a step closer slowly towards Harry. Elio follows and takes a step forwards to the guy, “I fucking dare you to take one more step!” Elio threatens.

“No, you piece of shit!” Harry’s hand tightens around his gun. “Joke’s on you, she’s mine. She’ll love me, and I’ll do everything you can’t do to her. I’ll love her, I’ll protect her! And listen to this, motherfucker, I’ll even FUCK HER!” Harry shouts, pulling Alessandro up by the collar only to smash him back down on the table.

I look over at the table and I see Paolo’s gaze on me, I know that look very well. His eyes tell me to take control. His expressionless face tells me to stop this situation at once.

“You won’t, know why? Because she only wants m-“ Alessandro objects, but is interrupted by a loud sound of a gunshot.

All eyes but Harry’s are on me as my arm is fully raised as I shoot at the sky. I glare at everybody in sight as Harry throws a punch to Alessandro’s face. “GO FUCKING ON!” Harry yells, ready to kill his anger out.

“Harry,” I softly call lowering my arm, but his eyes won’t leave Alessandro. “Harry, please, let me handle this.” I ask, gently, as my hand feels his hand that’s holding the gun. His hand finally lowers down and his eyes calm a bit, but they don’t let Alessandro out of sight. I take the chance to push Harry gently away while Alessandro is still on the table, laughing.

I grab Alessandro by the collar up on his feet and I whisper something only him and I can hear. His fingers trace over my hand that’s around his collar and smiles, “I’ve missed your touch.” He says.

Harry who fumes and walks towards Alessandro again once he hears Alessandro’s words, has been stopped by his friend Tyler whose gun is also pointed somewhere. “Wait, Harry, let her handle him.” Tyler speaks softly to Harry.

“Go!” I demand, letting go of Alessandro.

Alessandro stands there, towering over me and smiling widely at me. He’s loving the moment he’s close to me, wanting to savor it. He nods before he walks away with his men following him and as he’s walking, I call, “Alessandro!”

He turns around to look at me just to jump in his place once he hears the gunshot of my gun, he looks next to him to the guy who’s now dead. His head looks up at me with surprise.

“This is the guy that had his gun at Harry.” I explain and then shoot again just for another guy to fall down. “And this is the guy that betrayed us and let you in.”

He laughs, insanely, clapping his hands “You rock! I’ll take them to save you the trouble.”

He motions to the rest of his men to grab the dead bodies as I lower my gun. Killing is not my first option, only when it’s necessary. Harry stands behind me, his hand at the lower of my back and I let out a breath I don’t know I’m keeping in.

“I wanna leave.” I whisper, but he hears my voice clearly just as much he feels my agony.

Harry opens the passenger door for me, we have arrived at Harry’s penthouse. He snatches me out of my thoughts by this action, he gives me a hand out of car. It’s easy to get out of the car because I changed previously into a white plain dress. The dress is silky and is covering my cleavage but showing so much of my legs and back. I take his hand as we walk into the building and right into the elevator, without a single word spoken. Silence is a blessing as much as it’s a curse. You can appreciate silence either when you have too much to say, or when you completely have no words to form. And also, these are the same reason you can depreciate silence for. We stand apart from each other as the elevator levels up and up. Harry’s hands in his pockets and I can feel his fighting an urge to look at me. When the sound of the elevator beeps, ending the silence, we both get out and as I take my first step into the apartment I’ll live in, I see that the penthouse looks so good. It’s modern-styled, most colors are either white, grey or black, it lacks the touch of a woman.

“Let me show you around?” Harry suggests, placing his keys on the kitchen counter. I nod and follow him.

“This is the living room as you can see,” He points at the living room, it has a huge TV screen that can be used for movie nights and modern white couch with no cushions. The place is minimalistic. Too minimalistic for my liking. But the panoramic huge glass window makes up for the shitty decoration. “The kitchen is open, do whatever you want in there.” He points, the kitchen is also white and there’s nothing on the counter but the coffee machine. The kitchen looks luxurious.

As we walk inside, “This is the guest’s bathroom. This is a guest’s room.” He shows me both and I like the space in each room. “My office and right next to it is your office.” He opens the first room and it’s too white, it must be torturous to sit there. My office is plain and my eyes furrow as I see it, “I didn’t do anything in here, I want you to decorate it as you want.” He explains as he sees the look on my face.

I nod at him and we continue walking, “A gym room.” The gym room has a lot of necessary equipment and a punching bag. I like it.

We stand by the last door; his eyes smile though his lips don’t. “Last but not least, the main bedroom.” He opens the door and I see a huge room; the colors of the walls are different from the rest of the penthouse. The walls are latte-colored, a much warmer color. A huge bed by the wall, and that wall is completely cushioned. I enter the room and explore, there’s a big dressing room and I think Bianca’s taken care of my unpacking for me. A vanity stands there with so much makeup and perfumes I never bought, I look at Harry. Everything has a high-class logo on it.

“Did Bianca buy me these?” I ask Harry, suddenly loving being a little girly.

“No, I did.” He answers, not giving me an expression. “Do you like the place?” He asks, not realizing that he wants me to actually like the place I’ll be living in.

I take a moment, “No.” I answer as he hides his disappointment. “The place looks like no one’s been living here for too long. It needs more decorations.”

He clears his throat, “I bought this place three years ago and I only come here once a month to check up on it. I haven’t actually lived here.” He answers, truthfully.

“Why?” I ask, sitting on the vanity’s chair to take off my makeup.

He doesn’t answer, he just looks at me as he leans on the door frame, watching as I take off my makeup with a cotton round. Inspecting my skin color as I move, his mind wanders.

“What did you whisper to Alessandro?” He asks, falling in the trap of curiosity.

I finish taking off all the makeup, not giving Harry even the slightest eye contact. Standing up and walking towards the dressing room, his eyes follow me. I turn my head to look at him through the dressing room’s glass wall, “Do you wanna sleep here or in the guests’ room?” I ask, avoiding his question.

Not that he has thought I’d let him have sex with me, but he at least has thought we’d have a decent conversation. I think that we don’t have anything to talk about, we shouldn’t even pretend that we like each other and force a conversation. We’re just two strangers locked together in an inescapable cage. Marriage. As much as I really want to prove people right, I can’t guarantee that I’ll act like a real married woman. And I know for sure and certain that he can’t guarantee that he has the determination to become a real married man.

“I’ll go out, you can sleep here.” He answers and I nod. I turn my head, thinking he’s left, I pull out a pajama to sleep in. I let the spaghetti straps of my dress fall off my shoulders just for the dress to fall down around my feet, I stand there in my white black lace thin panties and no bra, my back faces Harry’s eyes that still watch my half naked body.

I pull on my pajama shorts after pulling off my high heels, and as I put on my pajama blouse I turn around to an empty room.

Fucking a prostitute on his wedding night is the last thing Harry’s thought would happen. But it happens. Because in the middle of the night, I wake up to muffled man moans and woman screams of pleasure. I straighten my posture on the bed, looking at the clock, still hearing the sounds along with a sound of a bed banging on the wall. I rub my face, not realizing what in hell is happening. I take off the blanket of my body, stand up to walk out of my bedroom. The voices are getting louder with every step I take towards the guests’ room and that is when it hits me. The guests’ room’s door is right in front of me, and I can hear the woman’s voice screaming his name and hear Harry’s voice.

“Louder!” He screams as if he wants me to hear it.

Rage runs through my veins, and I feel like I can’t do anything. I have no idea what I should do. Should I barge in and kill them both? Should I let them have their fun? Or should I leave once and for all? And as I stand there, thinking and drowning in my own thoughts, I hear them both release their damned climaxes. How convenient!

I’ll make him regret it.

I noticed earlier that he has a cabinet in his office filled with guns and there was a baseball bat. NO! That’s shouldn’t be something I do now. Why am I so upset? Of course, I’m upset. He’s my husband and he’s fucking a girl in our home on our wedding night.

Harry who lays there, panting, doesn’t give the girl the chance to cuddle with him and coldly orders, “Get your things and leave.”

The girl pats her eyelashes at him, but he just looks at her with a stone-cold expression so she does what she’s ordered. Once she’s out of his bedroom, he stands up and pulls up his boxers, getting out of the room. He tiptoes his way towards the bedroom, slowly opening the door slightly only to see my body on the bed, sleeping. He sighs and turns around to leave.

My eyes are open as I feel him open the door, and I have a poker face on. I dive my face into the pillow when he closes the door, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding the whole time.

The door of my office opens and there is Harry’s figure, looking at me as I check my guns and weapons before I place them in the cabinet. I sit on a leather chair, checking a nickel gun in my hand and I don’t give Harry any attention though I feel him entering the office. I’ve changed so much in my office in a couple of hours. I have a modern desk and some electronics on top, a few green plants and some decorations such as the paintings hanging on the walls. A small couch and a small library filled with books.

“Good morning.” He starts, but I don’t return it. “When did you do all that?”

My eyes look in front of me to the vain, I make a clicking sound with the gun I have in my hands.

“Breakfast is on the kitchen counter.” I say in a monotonic voice, putting the gun in the cabinet before closing it.

“Are you okay?” He asks, thinking I don’t have a reason to be this silent. In the end, he thinks I was asleep last night as he fucked a girl on our wedding night.

I stand up, facing him with a big smile on my face, “Of course! I have to go out now.” I say, walking past him and out the door.

It’s not easy to control a girl like me, he can’t just pin me against a wall and demand answers.

He stands there, not realizing a word that’s come out of me and just when he snaps out of it, he jogs to follow me only to see the elevator doors close while I’m inside. He places his forehead on the elevator doors, sighing, “Oh God, what have I done?”

I disappear for a whole day, Harry hears nothing from me and he can’t just ask someone to look for me because that’ll put him on the spot of what he has done, so he’s decided to look for me on his own. He’s went to my favorite coffee shop, he’s kept driving around, searching for a trace of me or my car, but he can’t find me. He makes his way back to the penthouse, thinking I may have returned. He’s right. So right. Once he takes his first step into the penthouse, he hears moaning. His eyes widen, trying to question his own hearing, walking down the hall to the bedroom only for him to hear me moaning a man’s name and he also finds a man’s moaning coming from the room. He slams the room’s door open.

I smirk at him, sitting on the futon by the bed, fully clothed in the same outfit I’ve had on before leaving, all alone, and there’s a porn video playing on my laptop that’s placed on the bed. His eyes are still wide, looking around the room, looking for the man he thinks is hiding. I can feel his anger by watching his flared nostrils, the vein that’s popping in his forehead and his clenched jawlines.

I press the pause button on the laptop, “Not a very pleasant surprise, eh?” I ask, smirking slightly at his anger.

“Why?” He wonders, taking a step into the room and closer to me.

“You know why. Fucking another girl on our wedding night isn’t a pleasant surprise, too.”

“It’s not like I’m cheating, we don’t care about each other!” He yells, angrily.

“It is cheating. I’m your wife, son of a bitch!” I yell back, standing up, facing him.

“It’s an arranged marriage, it’s not like I want to touch you.”

“Do I look like I’m dying to suck your dick?”

“Here we go again with the smarty shit!”

“If you desperately love hookers, you can take them anywhere but here!”

“It’s my house! I can do whatever I want!” He yells at my face and I glare at him.

“Everything Alessandro says sounds so right now.” I growl, making my way past him to leave, but he grabs my arm.

“What did you just say?” He glares back at me.

“Are you deaf? He’s right, I won’t ever give myself to a piece of shit like you.” I spit the truth, not the full truth but still.

“You have a filthy mouth.” He bites his bottom lip in frustration, tightening his grip around my arm.

“Just like yours.” I free my arm from his hand and walk out of the room and in to the room’s bathroom. I slam the door behind me and sit on the floor, trying to hold back the tears I’ve kept. Since I’m alone, I let my tears fall down my cheeks, sniffing the sadness I feel from remembering Harry’s voice out the door. I can’t feel that, but Harry stands by the bathroom’s door, palms spread on the door frame and head down. He wants to say he’s sorry, but he can’t.

I stand up to look at my reflection in the wide mirror of the bathroom, my eyes are blood red from all the tears I’ve managed. I turn on the water to splash my face, breathe in, breathe out. I make my way to the door, open it to find no one’s there. I quickly grab new clothes and walk to the bathroom again to take a shower, not bothering to look for Harry.

Standing under the shower, the hot water drops hit my skin in the loveliest way, washing away the feelings. I raise my head up so the drops hit my face, doing so I get glimpses of Harry in every encounter we’ve had. His face is too unforgettable to just get out of the mind, his touch fires my heart like a bullet.

I’ve always had my way with words, I can write poems of his features. Harry can’t be loved by just one heart, he’s worthy of a thousand hearts, but I only have one. He’s worthy of a heart to adore his voice, a heart to contemplate his silence, another heart for his eyes. I have a lot to say about him, but time isn’t enough. I hope there’s a way to get closer to him, just to touch him and forget about the rest of the world. He’s so easy to fall in love with, but I just can’t.

I make my way out of the bathroom with a towel around my body, but once I open the bathroom’s door, I see Harry’s body laying on the bed. His eyes inspect me, they wander, looking at the water drops the fall from the tips of my hair, the showing wet skin of mine, and my face that’s looking right at him. He grins at me and pats on the bed next to him, motioning for me to take a seat. Not controlling myself much, I do what he wants, sitting on the edge of the bed, but not giving him the pleasure of an eye contact.

I can feel his gaze on me, and all I can do is hold the towel tight around my body.

“You smell so good.” He starts, softly, his deep voice sends shivers down my spine, especially that I feel him move closer to me. I have this craving to let him touch me, but I stay silent. “Get dressed, I’m taking you out.” His voice gets sterner as he asks.

“Where?” I ask, hating how low my voice is.

“You’ll see.” He says, getting off the bed and walking away.

There’s a feeling in me that wants to give in to him, but desperately I hold this feeling back. I sigh, wishing I know more about him.

Harry opens the passenger door for me, I smile to myself at his gesture as I take a seat. He closes the door and walks around the car to open his own door and sits next to me. The smell of his wooden cologne makes him a little more attractive tonight, and since he’s wearing the infamous black shirt and black tight jeans, it drives my eyes to curiously wander to his tattoos. His body looks toned and very touchable. He catches my eyes and immediately I look away.

“Like what you see?” He grins, looking between me and the road.

“You’re not that bad, I was just wondering about your tattoos.” I answer, acting cool.

“What about them?” He asks, liking the simple conversation.

“How many do you have?”

“Ugh, I lost count. Do you have any tattoos?” He asks, casually.

“I have one, got it behind my father’s back when I was 17.” I chuckle, remembering.

“Tell me about it.” He asks me, nicely, having a smile on his face and I really get the urge to feel his dimples.

“It’s stupid. Elio and I decided we wanted tattoos like older people so we went to that tattoo place two blocks away. He had a tattoo on his thigh, and he hated the feeling of the needle. I teased him about it so he dared me to get a tattoo on my thigh as well, though I wanted one on my shoulder. I kept screaming at the tattoo artist and almost hit him.” I tell, giggling just like Harry.

“What did you get, then?” He asks, smiling.

A daring feeling get the best of me, so I raise my leg up on the console. I have a long black silky dress on, and it has the cut on one side so when I raise my leg up my whole right leg shows. Harry looks my leg up from the black heels I have on and down to my fully exposed thigh. My tattoo is a small daisy just a couple of inches away from my heat. His breathing gets harder as he eyes my flesh. I see him gulp and stiffen a little on his seat.

“It’s beautiful.” He manages, looking at the road again, trying to avoid the bulge that’s forming in his pants.

“Like what you saw?” I smirk, putting my leg down.

He gives me a single look that’s enough for me to feel myself get wetter, “I love it.”

With that he pulls over by a restaurant, he gets out of the car and walks over it to open the door for me. Once I’m completely out, he closes the door and takes my hand as we walk into the restaurant. He says his name to one of the employees and we take our seats at one of the tables. Although the restaurant is fancy, it’s also cozy so that makes me a little more comfortable in my seat.

“I pre-ordered for us if you don’t mind. Let’s hope you’ll like my choice.” Harry starts, he’s always the one that starts the conversation. And maybe this is something I like about him.

“No problem.” I smile softly. I can feel his eyes burning holes on my skin, he admires my skin tone as it glows in the light, my shiny long hair and every little detail about me. The ignorant me doesn’t know that he loves the fact that this woman before him is his. I have to admit, we -women-, hate to be thought of as a thing a man owns, we hate to be seen as a piece of decoration, but sometimes it feels good to feel owned by someone. If the person of interest treats you right, loves you, doesn’t ruin your life with his possessiveness, it’ll feel good to be owned by them. Owning a person doesn’t mean that you have the authority to stop them from something they like, it doesn’t mean to force them into something they don’t want, on the contrary, owning and being owned is more of a feeling. Security is the feeling, to be certain that your person is yours and only yours. It’s fascinating when you think about it, their body, hands, face, features, qualities and all is your own. Your own to admire and feel, not to destroy and ruin.

“Tell me more about you, y/n.” He, again, starts.

“Ugh, let me think. You already know too much about me, I’m not that open book.” I smile, sipping from my glass of fine wine.

“I’m your husband, I should know everything.” He plays his ‘Husband’ card again, and I let him.

“My mother died when she was having me, my father took care of me and Elio. I don’t know what else to say.” I chuckle like a little girl, slightly nervous.

“Anything you want to say, I’m all ears.” He smiles at me; his voice sends heat into my skin.

“Well, I was homeschooled, just like everyone. I don’t have friends other than my cousins. I got into business really young, father had me start from the least decent job.”

“From zero to hero.” He giggles, holding his glass of wine, sipping from it. “My dad did the same to me.”

“No wonder they’re friends.” I shrug, hands holding my arms.

“What about boyfriends? Had any?” His question startles me, though it’s a very expected question. I shake my head no and he asks again with furrowed eyebrows, “How so?”

“I was not the girl that dates around, I was only interested in my family business, my family and that was it, you know?” He nods his head only to startle me again with another question.

“Then what was Alessandro?”

“Ugh, he was never my boyfriend, I was into him at some point, but he started creeping me out. He’d talk to people as if we were together, he had this imaginary idea of me saving myself for him, but that’s not the truth.”

“What’s the truth, then?” He asks, grinning, enjoying my denial to Alessandro’s claims.

“As I said, I was not the girl to date. That’s why I never wanted someone enough to sleep with. I like tough guys, tough enough to stand up to me.” I look into his eyes and I can see his eyes grin just like his mouth. “What about you? Had a girlfriend?”

Sipping the last drop of his glass, “Oh yeah! To be honest, I’ve had many.”

“You give the vibe of a fuckboy anyways.” I tease, holding the wine glass in between my fingers.

“Unfortunately, I believe you.”

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

It seems like my question is unexpected to him, because his face goes down just when the words come out of my mouth. The silence is broken by the waitress bringing our plates and refilling our glasses, we give her a thanks and once she leaves I see that Harry has ordered fancy pasta with pesto sauce. My eyes look up to him again and I feel the mood goes down.

“Harry?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He sternly, says.

“Understandable.” I nod and bring my fork to eat.

Not that I am not curious, but I know that I need to respect other people’s choice of not talking. The rest of the night goes well, to my surprise. Talking and teasing each other all the time. And when it’s time to go home, driving back to our place, I hear him sigh.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened on our wedding night. I shouldn’t have done that, I just thought you didn’t care.” He apologizes, and it seems like it’s hard for him to do so.

“Apology accepted. Now you know that I do care.” I say as he pulls over by our building, pulling the handbrake. I have got no clue why, but watching his hand pull the handbrake turns me on, maybe it’s the way I see how big his hands are around it, or maybe my imagination that wanders of the things his hands can do.

He rests in his seat, facing me and looking into my eyes, his look like grass after a rainy day.

“Your eyes look like grass after a rainy day.” I confess, his eyes widen a little. “What?”

“That’s so weird. I always thought that yours look like the sun after a rainy day.” He confesses back and we both smile at each other.

His scent drives me insane, and all I can think about is our first kiss at the altar. His lips were so gentle yet so dominant, I wish I could kiss them again. His hand comes closer to me, pulling a strand of my hair, feeling it. His eyes go from my hair to my lips, thinking about the chance to actually kiss me again. Biting my lip, nervously, I see him lean in closer to me. His lips are inches away from mine, breathing onto them, partially open.

Temptation grows and butterflies fly in my stomach as with every breath I smell his cologne. A small strand of his soft brown hair falls on his forehead, and his eyes look down with deep desire at my lips which are apart.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Softly, I ask, falling into the same trap Harry falls into every time.

With frustrated long sigh, he pulls away from me, clenching his hands and craving to feel my skin on his hands. I let out a deep breath, disappointed. I look away and open the door next to me, but I feel his hand grabs my arm roughly, pulling me closer. In just one swift move, he leans in and crashes our lips together.

Heat along with desire burst from the kiss. His lips are as soft as a cloud, and though it’s very dominant. His lips nib onto mine, exploring the details of my lips. Caught up in the bliss of the moment, I give in and kiss him back. His hands make their way around my waist, trying to pull me closer to him. While his hands enjoy the feeling of my shape, my fingers run through his soft locks, deepening the steamy kiss. Filled with built up frustration, Harry’s lips pull my bottom lip. His teeth gently follow his lips move, giving me the attention, I crave. I can taste the wine on his full lips just like he can taste it on mine. The passion he puts into the kiss tells me that he really is determined to savor the moment, savor the taste of my lips on his.

Just when I thought the moment would last forever, he pulls away, panting on my lips. His forehead on mine for a second before he completely pulls away and just like that I miss his touch around me, I miss his lips on mine again.

His gaze is turned on the cement of the road, “We shouldn’t.” That’s the only thing he manages.

I bite my lip, still feeling his left scent on my lips. Violently, I make my way out of the car, not closing the door behind me. I walk towards the building in the most powerful, yet seductive way. Not feeling it, but his eyes are on me as I’m walking.

If he thinks it’s fine to kiss me just to pull away, then I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.

War it is.

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episodeoftv · 5 months

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Prelims, Vote 5 of 8

The top 4 finales will move on to be included in the main bracket

Propaganda is under the cut, may include spoilers

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Ok listen so no I wasn’t expecting much from this show like I knew what I was getting into. But oh my GOD the way you could FEEL how rushed this finale was. Early cancellation‚ I believe there was meant to be one more season. (Also personally did not enjoy it bc I did not find myself compelled by Ezra’s storylines this season but he is the main character so the last scene of the entire show was something I thought was SO stupid). Also broke up the found family. Unsurprising but I’m dying out here and they couldn’t have thrown me one line? The actual structure of the majority of the episode was pretty tight‚ like if it were a normal episode it would be fine. But then they had to go and try to wrap everything up before it was meant to be wrapped up and nothing has ever been less satisfying

Jane the Virgin - 4.17 Chapter Eighty-One

context: back in season 3 the protagonist jane was married to michael. he died in a heartbreaking and brilliantly done episode, and then the series jumped forwards 3 years in time. michael, his relationship with jane and his death was always treated with respect, even as jane slowly began to fall for her old flame and friend rafael. in the season 4 finale, it seemed like rafael was going to propose to jane, which was lovely. but then the very annoying drawn out villain told rafael ""something"" that made him withdraw and lash out at jane for reasons she and the audience didn't understand. they still had sex which was disturbing considering his anger and drunkenness, and then at the end of the episode it was revealed that the information he found out was that michael was alive. he'd been alive this whole time. the last moments of the episode are jane and michael seeing each other again. this made NO SENSE considering he died in a public place from an aortic dissection (a sudden blood pressure spike from a pre-existing injury) and they had a casket at his funeral - but apparently the villain has been keeping him alive all this time!! for some reason!!! this finale not only ruined the main romantic relationship between jane and rafael for pointless drama, it also spat upon the memory and fans of michael, and michael and jane's romantic relationship. not even to mention the ridiculous drama that another fan favourite petra was put through this episode. the entire thing was full of cheap shock value moments and cliffhangers to try and get audiences to watch for the final season.

My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! - 2.12 My Graduation Ceremony Happened...

incest

True Blood - 7.10 Thank You

so much wrong (really) with this show (which i love) but that final fucking image just does me in! sookie, our protagonist, who's been battered back and forth between stubborn heroine and hapless waif for 7 seasons seems spends her final (on-screen) moments sitting at her table surrounded by loved ones - which would be heartwarming if tara (abused for 6 seasons and then fridged, thanks alan ball) wasn't missing, a woman wasn't sitting next to the groomer she married (they meet near the beginning of the show when she is 17 and he is almost 30, they start dating immediately), and sookie were sitting at the head of her own fucking table. it's nice that sookie gets what she wants - she's tough but pretty milquetoast (don't get mad at me! i love our twee fairy vixen!), and she really has wanted to just be cozy and settle down this whole time. it makes sense to close on her enjoying a semi-mortal evening with the people she has left. but to leave on her tropily pregnant (even if it's in character - if it were just the pregnancy it wouldn't irk me so) and centre her nameless, faceless husband in the final frames of 7 seasons that have been (for better and way worse) about nothing but sookie? despicable! it's the series finale i've hated the most, but in some ways it's almost perfect because it totally exemplifies the political identity crisis true blood has for 7 years. edge vs. wholesomeness, agency vs. damselhood, change vs. status quo. it's such a disappointing result of the struggle that not only sookie (a character so many fans hate for her simultaneous stubbornness, ditz, and naivete - and who i love btw!) but the writers struggled for (sorry) 7 seasons. it's like witnessing your dear, baby faced, precocious & clever kid relative exit an intense emo phase only to become corporate law student. it's the cold fear that can only be induced by a white teenager with a briefcase. it's the slump end to a potentially fruitful struggle. in this sense it feels inevitable...but does it HAVE to be?...at least bill died.

The Who Was? Show - 1.13 Julius Caesar & Bruce Lee

the show got cancelled before season 2 released EVEN THOUGH it was certainly meant to have a season 2 so i will never see my silly blorbos ever again, nor will we be able to see who ate those grapes. It has been 5 years and I am still not over it :'(

#prelim #wfprelim #wfpoll #poll #polls #csi: ny #faking it #imposters #jane the virgin #my next life as a villianess all routes lead to doom #my next life as a villainess #true blood #the who was? show

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highpri3stess · 2 months

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Also I hc that the reader likes to journal (or starts doing it over the course of the story for emotional release and as a record so that she isn't disbelieved if she ever has the courage to go to the police) and it has a little drawings as well (and I like to think she draws well but let's be real it's prolly like stickmen, boys wear pants and girls wear skirts) as apart of trying to pick up a new skill to unpack her trauma. She draws Emma and later draken as these positive figures, hiding so brightly and even as a sketch of them holding hands and having rlly bright smiles. And then her abusers are drawn as these faceless figures doing god knows what to her (to unpack her trauma from being sa'd twice. SO FAR.)

And I'm imagining a worst case scenario where y/n ends up snapping and unaliving herself at the end and later Emma and draken see her journal entries and drawings as well as a letter.

[Hi Emma. By the time you read this. Chances are I'm mostly likely dead. I promise you, I didn't want to do this, I didn't want to leave behind the only friend I've had in my entire life just because your older brothers'. But, i can't do it anymore. I just can't. I don't wanna wake up after tossing and turning bc they've invaded by dreams. I can still feel their dirty hands on my temple. I can still feel hear their slurs, that I wanted this, that I enjoyed it. I'm sick of walking down these goddamn halls, knowing that everyone hates me and is willing to hurt me just to be in their good graces. There is so much more I can say but I just can't. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry for what I'm about to do, what I did. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you by seeing my dead body. Whatever you do from here on out. Please please PLEASE don't blame yourself.please don't punish yourself, I chose this path. Just like they did. You have many wonderful people by your side, they're willing to help you. Just promise me you won't isolate yourself. Just don't follow me. Graduate this hellhole, get married to draken, have kids, or get a job and make a lot of money. Whatever dream you have, please don't stop it just for my sake. I'm sorry Emma, but I can't go on like this. Please forgive my selfishness.

Love

Reader.

Oh dear god, I'm going to cry.

#anon if you wanted to shatter my heart you won #monsters ♡#this was such a good hc

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cozymochi · 2 months

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DOES TIA Do any school club stuff? Does she have one she admires, likes? Dislikes?

THANKS I LOVE TIA LORE DUMP EXCUSES!! SHE IS OFFICIALLY in the Newspaper Club 😩, but not out of actual interest. It’s just a means to assist in documenting her school life as she’s supposed to do. It’s her credit, I guess. Honestly, they don’t really get into the logistics too much, so I wouldn’t sweat the details here either. I imagine Crowley just shoved her (and Grim) in there.

Though despite being in that club, Grim says he’s in the “Gourmet Club.” But that’s just self-proclaimed only 😩 that club doesn’t actually exist, it’s just an excuse to eat food after classes are done. (Tho im pretty sure this is actually true, I have no basis for this though, just a hunch, but my hunch hasn’t been wrong yet.) I’m sure his “club” has a lot going for it considering the sole member lives with freaking Tia, an already gifted chef. Besides, they count as one student. If Tia is officially in the Newspaper Club, then so is he via technicality.

Since cooking is an art she’d probably be more drawn to the “arts” clubs. It’s hard to say if she admires any though, given I think she can have a one track mind at times. I don’t think she really gives herself the opportunity to be interested in them beyond surface level. Which kinda sucks, cuz she might be missing out on new things to experience or be invested in. She’s not a sports person either, but nearly all her closer friends are in sports clubs, so she’s often present to see tourneys, games, whatever if they have any. Which btw, this is definitely a shift from how she’d be back in her home world, cuz if her friends there ever invited her to anything or ask her to do something like that she’d’ve just shirked it in favor of focusing on her long term goal (as per her Tiana allusions, cough cough. And now she may never see those friends again :’3). She still kinda tries to shirk going to these things because… habits, y’know. I’m not entirely sure she has any opinion on sports clubs themselves, again, that one track mind can sorta. Y’know.

The only club Tia would actually want to hypothetically be in is a Cooking Club because god forbid she stray from the path she set up for herself. Though, I am not sure if one is confirmed to actually exist at the school. The Master Chef/Culinary Crucible special class DOES though, so I don’t know. I DREW THAT! …If Tia wasn’t so serious sometimes, I don’t think she would be totally opposed to just joining in on the “Gourmet Club” thing. She loves food too.

Total aside, I like to imagine that the Newspaper Club is sparsely populated with a few guys (probably 3) who just don’t even talk to each other lol. They all do different things without exactly collaborating because it’s NRC. No one reads the newspaper anyway!! Internet exists, as everyone points out. Club time for Tia is sitting in a classroom and perusing her ghost camera photos and organizing things. Or just… think. Worst case scenario she and Grim are completely alone in that “club” and it was a dead club that only got resurrected cuz it was convenient for the bird man and happened to line up with Tia’s documenting school life thing. Honestly that feels real. She’d rather be doing anything else though. It’s not like clubs were a school requirement back home unless you wanted to look more rounded on some applications. Clubs weren’t exactly on her radar either, it was saving money to get into her own school of her dreams. So dividing time for a club and hanging with people was mostly off the table.

I think Tia is still trying to figure herself out though. A lot of her identity so far is still solely based around her long term career goal and hardly considers much of anything else if it doesn’t tie into that somehow. The whole “being transported to another world” thing is just an obstacle on the path right now. Omg I wonder if she’ll be forced to go through life changing stuff, learn lessons, and go with the flow on top of being forced to confront any internal demons that up until now she’s been burying from watching other guys completely collapse from doing so, plus… other typical things of the genre!!! 🫣🫣

…it’s an in-joke that I think she low key enjoys the picture taking. The cast is very pretty.

#cozy ask #twstposting #tia dumarais #THATS RIGHT!! THE FROG IS TWISTY WONDERLAND ITSELF.#if ur wondering why i keep saying non defonitive words like ‘i think’ its because #i also wanna just learn about her this goes along #i speculate on my own kiddos like lol

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chronsart · 4 months

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Hello, I hope everyone has a happy new year.

I've been gone for a while, so I feel like its important to let people know where I've been, and I felt like maybe this could help someone if they read it.

I've had a rough year. Really who hasn't. I'm certainly not experiencing the worst fate a human could in this time. Even if they're not the same though, everyone faces their own Titan, their own kind of wall. It makes me feel small. But... kind of seeing everyone elses makes it a little easier for me to stand in the shadow of my own.

I've experienced some awful things over the years. Emotional and physical problems, but above all, what may be the worst, is that I've had a terrible relationship with my art and my writing. With everything I've drawn, I've felt as though my work has been nothing but disappointing or largely far from what I want. I've had this large, oppressive wall that makes me feel as though I can't or am unable to express myself the way that I want. I haven't had much faith in myself. Negative in fact. But... things have started to change. So, in 2024, I want to make the difference clear.

Things started changing in me in 2023. Maybe it was in play earlier than that. I had wins and failures, but I was able to pick myself up after those and try again. I felt lost. I looked for purpose, found a job, and a place I thought I might belong, and then lost it. I had done something wrong. It bothered me. But, rather than just stop and feel like this mental block, this wall had moved a little closer- I tried again. I didn't exactly push the wall back just yet. But i started to really look at it, and test the bricks. Take a shovel and really wack em. It didn't really do much at first, but I gave it a shot. At least I was angry. I didn't want to accept this anymore. But I couldn't very well break the wall with a shovel... so I dug a hole instead, beside the wall. I couldn't dig under the wall. It went too far. So I planted a seed inside it. The plant would need light eventually, but all seeds begin in darkness. So I put down my shovel, and I waited.

Towards the later quarter of last year, my life started to change. I had learned many new skills, I solved a few of the problems that were burdening me, and I have begun to feel as though I might be able to move forward. I started wandering into many unfamiliar things in life, and while I was scared at first, I wasn't so much by the time I'd charged through them. Or was dragged through, more like, in some cases. I'm trying my best to get into the swing of things, but the change of pace has left me very tired and I imagine I'll be struggling with that for a while as i adjust. I've still got a ton of bricks to break, and the hammer I made is still kind of heavy, but the wall is coming down.

I started selling plants in the hope that I could have a sort of backup to art. I just needed some distance. (But i also felt like I was running away. I just didn't really want to admit it.) I set up an art business selling plants, and ended up meeting locally with a customer to hand off their plant. Normally, I'd just sit it out and wait for them to show up after all the payment was in order. But, this time they knocked, so I came out to talk for a small bit, and... they ended up buying more plants, what do you know. And then we just started talking about things. Life, what we both did. We were both exhausted trying to keep things going, but we were moving. I mentioned my art on the side... I thought about just leaving it out of the conversation entirely, but it sorta slipped out of me.

This turned out to be the right thing to say. They said that they were opening a gallery. I was invited to be a part of it. After a month or so, we got things going. Yesterday, I was the first artist to have sold their work there. This is the first gallery I've ever been a part of, and it felt really nice to be a part of it and to meet so many other artists and hear their stories.

I realized I've been observing my art through a very dark lens. Yesterday, I was able to see my work through the eyes of other people. Despite all the flaws I saw in my work, other's saw the things they loved in it. And I know its not the first time. There have been plenty of people online who think what i create is cool. I guess I've just been blind to it. In a way I am. Even though I can see the numbers and the hearts, they don't really mean much to me if I can't really see the faces and hear the reactions of the people who see my work and what they innitially think of it, or when they see it in person. Art through a screen just isn't the same as when you hold it in your hands, and behold it in your world. Maybe, that's a good enough reason to start a physical sketchbook.

My art got printed for the first time in years two days ago. When i saw it innitially, laying on this bench, I was a little scared to approach it. I remembered all the flaws in that art, and this coil of anxiety wound up in my chest. But... I saw the look on the face of this person next to me, just genuinely looking at the art for what it was. After a moment, that coil loosened, and all those depressive thoughts slipped away. I remembered then when i was making that art, how I made it. What i wanted to make vs how it turned out. I didn't hit the mark exactly, but I could still appreciate the result. I even remembered the experience of drawing it fondly... and I kind of wished that I'd recorded it. Maybe i could have appreciated it better. I even wanted to create an alternative to that drawing. It felt really nice. It felt relieving. Like I could pick up a pencil again without worrying so much what i was going to create, to do it all over again. I even looked forward to it.

I guess working with my plants helped me figure things out in a weird, round-about way. And even my plants aren't perfect. They've lost leaves, wilted, died, but I've been learning to fix some of the mistakes I'd made. I've even managed to bring some of my plants back from the fucking dead, and I've managed to keep my others alive. Healthy even, thankfully. I do run a plant business afterall, but it took me roughly three years to get decent at growing them. And now I have around 400 plants in my house, and have plans to build a green house, maybe in the spring this year.

My art on the other hand... has just been so rooted into my damaged psyche that I haven't been able to open it up to becoming sustainable, despite people asking me about it. Maybe that will change this year. It feels like I can start to make it so. I want to reach out this year. I want to make people happy, even if I can't see them myself.

So... while I'm still terribly critical of anything I create, I feel like I can forgive myself a little more, and accept as well that while I can't make anything perfect to any degree, I can make a few things that are good and be happy with that. Even if i fail, the most important thing that I do is try again and make something new. Make a few things that I can like, despite what the nagging doubt in my head says.

I really hope that I can come to feel as though I can breathe again and to believe in my art and stories again. Maybe I can allow myself share more freely in the coming year. I feel like its more tangible of a possibility that I can believe in. Already I'm making more art, and more story projects to release. And I'm certainly not perfect, but I'm going to regret not trying just because I was afraid of making a mistake. I've learned, that making a mistake is easy, and getting back up is hard- but staying down hurts so much worse.

Right now, my seed has grown into a lovely little tree. It's reached a little further than my wall now, reaching light over the top that I've begun to see through its leaves.

I hope that the coming year is good to you. But if it isn't, I hope you find the strength you need to make it the best that you can. Maybe, collectively, we will make this year a little easier.

If you find yourself stuck like I have, maybe grow yourself a plant. Even if you're bad at it. Like, even the "I kill every plant I touch" kind of bad. I was there too. Its not something bound in this mystic "talent" people think you're born with when you're suddenly good at something. It's just like art. So, maybe, give yourself a chance. Find one, learn about it. What it likes, what it hates. Add it to your routine, or let it help you to create one. Every new little leaf and flower, is so rewarding to see when they appear. Each new leaf is different, even though its the same plant. Sometimes the first few are a little weird till they get going. And the roots, those are really cool too. They go wherever the water and the food is so that they can help the plant grow better leaves. So they're really good at finding things, even in the dark. They just feel it out. They don't know what it is, but they know its good or bad. They're especially good at finding all those cracks in the bricks that are too dark for you to see. And sometimes, they even break something loose, and let in some light so you can see through to the other side.

#chronsrambles #personal #dunno what possessed me to write all this #but it feels nice to get it all out of my system #i have an endless amount of stuff to complete but i need to just be at the point im not falling asleep at my desk hah #catch you later #happy new year #i hear its the year of the dragon #maybe I'll catch one by its tail

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fatyaoi · 8 months

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your art has literally changed my perception of my body, like it made me realize its hot as fuck to be fat. anyway may i request how you imagine postal 1 dude if he took care of himself and gained some weight from it

um . i spent like a full week trying to figure out how i wanted to respond to this because it is genuinely i think the most touching thing a stranger has ever said to me. i couldn't quite say what i wanted to so i'm just going to say what i can. putting it under the cut cause its a little long and wordy but um. i don’t think you had any idea this would be the case but your message was so so profound and special to me. i am wishing you so well sincerely with my whole heart and i am so grateful to hear that and to be a part of whatever journey you are on. please continue being loving toward your wonderful body and i hope you enjoy the dude <333333

i’ve literally spent my entire life capital f Fat. i can’t think of a time i wasn’t the literal fattest person in any given room. the only way i was personally able to heal from a lifetime of mistreatment was through kink. i have always been deeply and exclusively attracted to fat men, and drawn to other fat people in general- but my own relationship with my body was impossible to fully mend without rediscovering myself through the eroticism of fat. even in my worst moments of self doubt, there is no hatred and i would not change this aspect of my body for anything.

the objective fact is that the fat body is a beautiful, desirable, sensual, and natural state of being. in fact i think it’s one of the best things you can be :^) just about everything i do is dedicated to the love of, and healing through the love of fat. its the reason i draw what i draw. i mean yes its insanely hot when a guy gets too fat for his button up but my experience of pain and heartbreak and euphoria and Love goes into Everything i do. so the idea that the minuscule amount of time i have really been vocal or open has done anyone any sort of good like. i am literally so grateful. i am overwhelmed and so happy and so grateful.

um that was a lot but its been like. swirling around in my head for a hot minute now. again, i think this is probably the most touching thing a stranger has ever said to me. anon im assuming youll see this at least i’m praying you will, but i am sending you so so so much love i’m literally squeezing my eyes shut and focusing so hard on blasting you with big pink hearts ok? please know you are so right and so hot always. showing yourself the love and kindness you deserve is one of the hardest things you can do and i am So proud of you. i am rooting for you. in fact i am rooting for everyone who might be reading this. please know in your hardest most painful moments that i am rooting for you and that i believe in you.

any remember everypony-

#that was a lot. um. heehee <3

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jasonsmirrorball · 3 months

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my darling ro!!!!

i loved your ak jason snippet so much, i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. do you have any other head canons for a relationship with ak jason?

sunnie (@fic-over-cannon)

minors, blank and ageless blogs dni with this post

i’m gonna be sooo honest with you the only thing i’m thinking about ak jason is being railed five ways to sunday or whatever the saying is. idk i just think he’s so smart but also so volatile and he can almost be cruel. i don’t think it’s a healthy relationship i think it’s very physical but entirely on his terms in the sense that you’re only allowed as far as he lets you.

sometimes he’s indulgent and other times it’s like you’re a stranger despite being the longest standing relationship he currently has ? does that make sense? idk i think this version of jason is just very unwilling to give up the reins, he’s in control at all times and nothing happens that isn’t a result of him letting you to. he fucks good though so!

it’s like being in the worst situationship of your life ever imo LMFAO just with higher stakes. like you’re not in a relationship but you are? you’re stupid as hell if you think you could let anyone else touch you because you’re for him only. and i don’t think he’s exactly going out fucking random people either but he’s adamant to keep that line drawn between you both.

lowkey …. i feel like in his worse moods he doesn’t say a word during sex like he’s fully silent except for heavy breathing and like groans. am never not thinking about ‘what’s the matter? lost for words? u expected more…i’m hurt’ but i don’t see him as the type to run his mouth when he’s actually angry angry. but when he’s coming down from a high….it’s missionary it’s mating press it’s legs over his shoulders, nose tucked into your neck, lips by your ear gasping out a laugh and just goading you. he’s mocking, he’s condescending, holding your orgasm from you and dangling it in front of you because he owns that, too. he’s got you too dumb on his cock to slur out anything else.

#sorry ak jason just does too much to me like i think of him and immediately have to go put my head in a tub of cold water #love letters 💌#jay my heart #loverboy 💌

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foxieflower · 21 days

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For Vanq: 17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise? 20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? 25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

Oh I love these questions so much. Okay, answering for the Big Guy then.

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

I will admit, that one's pretty hard. Recently we have made an au in which Vanquish is kidnapped by an obsessed elf for close to 100 years (he's a druid ans I also headcanon that tieflings live as long as half-elves so he's got a lot of life there) but while it's a pretty long and drawn out experience, he's really mellow and calm in that au, so it doesn't feel quite as impactful as some of the other alternate universal situations he's been placed in.

I'd wager its a toss up between the necromancy au and how his life starts in the Modern au.

In necromancy, that's also a slightly fnaf inspired au in that he was killed and forced to be reanimated as a walking corpse with his mind still intact. Having to carry out the bidding of someone he once called a business partner until Aywin comes around.

At the start of the Modern au, Vanquish is a tiefling created of a pact, a rarity in the modern area. He is kept as the child of a terrible cult, wanting to use him as a sort of sacrificial devilish beast to bring them blessings. He does escape, but it did a lot of mental damage to him that ultimately let him to becoming the ruthless tycoon he is.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Vanquish absolutely has trouble with jealousy, he has a lot of explosive and powerful feelings, no matter how negative people view them. His jealousy often manifests in rage and aggressive protectiveness over his beloved, Aywin. Now of course, Vanquish never entirely thinks there is ever any sort of flirtatious interaction between Aywin and someone else, he just does have an issue with hot-headedness and lashing out. In truth, Aywin either wears pink glasses or he just thinks those red flags are rather decorative. (I promise, they love each other and practically never fight. Sometimes they talk out if one or the other wants to push Van's jealousy buttons because they love the fire in each other's eyes)

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

Gotta say, this is the most difficult question. I could say something about his design, the fact he has age lines and imperfect skin textures. I could say his personality, how he's this perfect mixture of explosive rage and tender kisses. But really, I think the thing that really bring him forward is how he has come to be. He was simply a character I created for world building involving a character I had used in a quickly ending dnd campaign. A cult leader than my little thief got tangled up with but eventually grew to like, it wasn't a lot and due to the constraints of the person running it, they wouldn't have had a lot of interaction and got shelved. Time passed and then entered @gluskincasual he started a campaign during my Weddie obsession Era and soon I found myself digging up these two ocs to make them look like Eddie and Waylon, now called Vanquish and Aywin. It was fun to make this character and play him but it was obvious that as time went on and I started to come up with more in depth and built up stories for these two with Toby... that they meant so much more to us than simply some dnd characters but and extension of each other... especially once we began to date.

So I think the best thing about him to me, is that he both represents me and the part of me that loves my partner 😳🥰

#foxie thoughts #send asks #vanquish #vanquish and aywin #please send me morenof these #i love them so much

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raccoonhearteyes · 1 year

Text

December 18th, 2018

It has been over a month since Lexa saw Clarke. Or accidentally fucked her after falling asleep on her roof. She was just so warm. And kind. And being pulled into Clarke’s orbit is just too easy. Lexa knows that if she sees her, she won’t be strong enough to walk away. Even though it’ll be better for her. So instead of risking the temptation, Lexa has avoided any place she may run into Clarke. She refuses to go near the gallery. She avoids the whole borough where Clarke lives. She won’t even let herself get coffee somewhere if there’s a chance a flash of golden hair and baby blue eyes will send her spiraling again.

Lexa usually loves the holiday season in the city. She loves the lights and the display windows. This year, seeing happy couples kiss at the Rockefeller tree, families cozied together in the winter chill just makes her feel hollow and empty.

The Darkness preys on weakness, and skates by Lexa. Lexa’s too depressed to walk away and make him chase her. When he takes a lap the second time, he slows to a stop in front of her.

“What’s the matter Lexa, no holiday spirit this year?”

“Hard to be cheery when you spend it alone.”

“What are you talking about, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re not exactly the company I’d ever hope for.”

“Hm, still hung up on your artist, then?”

In the past twenty years, he has been cruel and relentless in trying to get her to give up her soul. He taunts and times his appearances on the days when she feels the worst. But he is still the most consistent aspect of her life, the only person or devil that remembers her. That she can carry a conversation with without worrying about being forgotten. While he’s shown up at bad times, he sometimes shows up just to check. They talk about things other than stealing her soul every so often. Sometimes he’s the outlet she needs for a more serious conversation that a stranger won’t have.

And tonight, for whatever reason, he seems less likely to convince her to give up. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit. Maybe she’s projecting. Maybe she really is just that desperate for some semblance of human connection.

“I feel like I lived an entire life with her in these past six months. I know her better than most of her friends do, but I’m not even a blip on her radar. So now I'm just killing time.”

“Until what?”

“Until I die. Until I give up and let you take my soul.”

He seems genuinely surprised at her confession, then she continues, “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

“Known what?”

“That offering a life in which you don’t age seems like something that would last longer. But no one lasts longer than a standard lifetime, do they? People barely last a full lifetime.”

“The best kind of deals are the ones where you think you’ve won,” he shrugs arrogantly.

Lexa is fuming with anger at this point. Who preys on foster kids with lofty promises and rigged deals? This is so wrong, and yet she’s still so trapped, so lonely, that he still might win.

“So, is this you waving the white flag?”

Lexa is about to say yes, to end it, and let him take her soul if it means the heartbreak stops. But suddenly, there she is. Wrapped in a knit scarf and a beanie, art supplies sprawled over a park bench as she draws the scene. Clarke. She looks beautiful, and seeing her there at this exact moment feels like a sign, and it gives Lexa the courage to tell the Darkness, “Not today.”

-----------

Like a moth to a flame, she’s drawn closer to Clarke. But she’s wary of getting too close. Close enough to bask in her warmth, but not so close that she burns her wings. It’s a delicate line to tightrope her way across. Especially in the aching loneliness of the holidays.

Clarke is drawing people, as she always does. So Lexa decides to stand near enough that she’ll inspire another piece, but not so close that she risks falling into conversation with her. That’s too risky. Too easy to fall back into her orbit. Too easy to get sucked into another devastating heartbreak.

So Lexa is content to watch from afar. To watch Clarke's eyes light up when she captures a moment on the page. To watch her smile at the little kids learning to ice skate below the massive tree. To watch the colors of the tree reflect off her blonde hair and the snow get caught in her lashes. It makes her chest swell with longing, so full it begins to ache.

It’s not her fault a family asks her to take a photo of them. To get the full tree in the frame she had to take a few steps back. It’s not her fault that happened to be in Clarke’s direction. It’s out of her control that Clarke watched the whole interaction, watched the silly faces she made to get the baby to look in the right direction.

She was trying to avoid her. To be close, but not too close, but Clarke noticed her this time. It’s not her fault.

“That was adorable,” Clarke says, gesturing at the small family happily peering at the photos Lexa had just taken.

“I couldn’t let the baby ruin the photo by looking over there,” Lexa blushes.

Clarke just smiles at her, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Lexa doesn't try to continue the conversation. She very intentionally turns her attention back to the tree and the ice skaters below, but she should have accounted for Clarke. Clarke, who has no hesitations in starting a conversation with a pretty stranger, who always talks to new people like they’re old friends.

“Can I draw you?” she asks.

“Sure.”Always. She knows she’s breaking a promise to herself, but instead of being rude or dismissive, she caves to blue eyes and a soft smile.

Clarke has her turn around to face her, lean back on the railing and prop her elbows on it. She wants to get the whole tree in the background, and Lexa tries to steady her breathing to prepare for the intimacy of sustained eye contact while Clarke draws her. Again.

They make idle chit chat while she works. Lexa keeps her answers short, just shy of curt. She doesn’t return the questions because she already knows Clarke’s answers. Instead, she focuses on the pink tongue poking out between Clarke’s teeth. The little freckle above her lip. Those eyes. Lexa blinks and Clarke is teasing her about something she said over fries. Those eyes are full of mirth and still feel like home. She blinks again and sees the same cocky twinkle looking up from between her legs.

She has to get out of here.

But Clarke’s not quite finished, and Lexa is a glutton for punishment. So she stays to model, letting Clarke's eyes trace the curve of her ass. The jut of a jawline. It’s a divine sort of torture.

But she can’t let it go any further. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t. She’s not strong enough. She’s too afraid to get caught up in a conversation. To end up tangled in bed with Clarke yet again. Her heart can’t take it.

The second she sees Clarke finish, she literally runs away. It’s not her proudest moment. Or her most well-thought-out, but she’s on survival mode now, and it is what needed to be done.

Safely on the other side of the rink, she takes one last look at Clarke, who just finished signing her name to the bottom of the piece. Lexa watches her look around in confusion. Glancing down at the piece then up, looking for the model and seeing nothing. Not recognizing the face. Not remembering the brief conversation they had while she worked. Drawing a blank. And Lexa’s heart shatters once again.

#lexa #clexa #clarke griffin #the invisible life of addie larue #clexa au

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