Marriage - Tumblr Posts

4 years ago

I need to reblog it. It's so adorable and my heart totally melt. I wish you everything the best 😘

Y’all being pregnant while moving into a new house is BUCKWILD

My husband is an intelligent man, but he has gotten in his head that if I lift one box I will PERISH


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1 year ago
Haa Haa Haa . Luckily This Isn't The Case For Me!

Haa Haa Haa 🤣. Luckily this isn't the case for me!


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1 year ago

I really hate forced mariage to lover

All the stories on wattpad about a girl being forced to be with a violent man and ending falling for him.

I'm sure some of them are good, but the general vibe of this trope isn't for me.

However, I love forced mariage to best friends

I'm still not into the violent husband thing, it's just that the friend to lover trop is more about two people being forced and both are uncomfortable but on equal foot

It can either be two gays helping each other get the girl/guy, one gay and one ally, both straight and in love with others or just not interested in relations

So if you have any of those stories, feel free to share! :D


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13 years ago

nathanpersuasion:

Marriage. “When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?  

Read More

In a relationship, married or not... You should read this.


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3 years ago

Love Story - Adam Stanheight / Reader

A/N Taylor Swift's Love Story inspired this one, clearly. LOL.

Adam Stanheight pulled you in, and you rested the back of your head on his shoulder, looking at the image in front of you. In the photo the sun was setting, you were in your prettiest dress, and Adam was in a tux. You both were hugging each other tightly. “You remember?” Adam asked in your ear.

“How the fuck would I forget?” You answered bluntly. “On the count of three, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“One, two, three.” You closed your eyes, and so did Adam. A younger version of yourself came into your mind.

You could still feel the wind on your skin, as you stood on the balcony in summer air. You were overlooking a raging party, the lights were dim, and everyone was dressed in ball gowns. In the back you could see Adam Faulkner walking towards you. “Hello,” he whispered.

“Hi.” You gazed up at him in awe. Adam was a nice guy, but sometimes he came off on the wrong foot. Your parents weren’t sure about him. Your father didn’t want you near him and he made that clear to Adam. “Stay away from Y/N.”

This was so disheartening to you that you started crying on the stairs, grabbing Adam’s hands and jeans, and begging him not to leave. You needed him in your life. “Please don’t go!”

Adam kissed you casually. He was so nonchalant. You wondered how he could be so calm all the time. “I’m not gonna leave you,” he assured you and tipped his head to the side. “Why would I do that?”

You stood up and pulled Adam closer. “Adam, take me somewhere we can be alone. I’ll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run. You’ll be the prince, and I’ll be the princess.”

Adam smiled in amusement. “It’s a love story. Baby just say ‘yes’,” he finished and you melted. Your parents were still watching from the side, glares on their faces. Then Adam pulled away. You were forced to watch him leave afterwards. Your heart hurt and it drove you mad.

But you were not easily deterred. You wouldn’t give up Adam for the world. Your mom and dad didn’t have to know what you got up to when you went on long walks. They’d never know you were still seeing him. You snuck out the very next night, and met Adam in the garden. Your heart fluttered when you touched his hands. He was so perfect standing there, with the moonlight behind him. In whispered tones you expressed how much you loved one another, and proceeded to walk delicately around the rose bushes and the petunias and the sunflowers. Your conversations were hushed, as you tried to keep quiet. You both would be so dead if your parents knew about this. But lucky for you, that wouldn’t happen. You were way too cool for this shit.

You came up behind Adam, and covered his eyes. “Close your eyes,”

It was time to escape this town for a little while.

Adam raised his hands up to yours. “Hmmm,” he hummed. “Y/N.” He leaned into you.

You kissed him on the head as Adam pulled your hands back down to his sides. “How are you tonight?” You wondered aloud.

“Brilliant,” Adam answered. “You?”

“Same.”

“Come out so I can see you.”

You felt suddenly self conscious. You had dressed up for this event. It was the same outfit you wore on your first date with Adam. Slowly, you moved out from behind Faulkner, and stood in front of him timidly. “Hi,” you murmured.

Adam gaped at you, then let out a low wolf whistle. His eyes traveled all the way down your body and then came back up to meet your gaze. “I like it.”

You smiled, a light blush tinting your cheeks. “Oh…” You found yourself unable to look at Adam. He took advantage of your shyness, and kissed you.

“Cause you were Adam,” you mumbled around his lips. “I was a scarlet letter.”

The door to the garden was flung open then. Apparently, your quietness hadn’t lasted. “How many times have I told you?” You recognized the voice of your dad again, and you frowned miserably. “Stay away from my child! Stay away from F/N L/N!”

Adam backed away, but he wasn’t daunted. “Sure.” He said with a shrug, and saluted you. You stared at him in disbelief, and then grabbed his shoulders. He was everything to you! “Please don’t go!” You gasped.

Adam kissed you roughly. “I’m not gonna leave you.” He smirked at you. “Why would I do that?” There was a knowing glint in his eyes. Your heart softened into hot wax. He was so perfect. So casual. How did he do that? How did he make you want him even more? How did he stay so relaxed, even though you were being torn apart from him?

You blinked up at him in amazement. “Adam… please…”

Adam winked at you, and glanced you up and down once more. “You look gorgeous in that, baby.”

You watched him sadly as he disappeared into the shadows, and retreated back into the trees. “Adam, take me somewhere we can be alone,” You muttered under your breath. “I’ll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run. You’ll be the prince, and I’ll be the princess…” You trailed off out of habit, allowing Adam to finish it. You were greeted with silence. It was so deafening, you almost flinched physically. You forced yourself to continue. “It’s a love story. Baby just say ‘yes’.”

Your father spoke up from behind you after a while. “How long?”

“How long?” you asked him.

“How long have you been seeing him behind our backs?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Y/N, listen to me. I don’t know what you see in him. All the good guys turn out to be bad people in the end. You need to let him go. He’s not good for you.”

“I love him!” You yelled abruptly. “Stop trying to convince me that he’s not worth it. You haven’t even met him, you don’t even know him. Get to know him first!”

“You should drop him,” your dad grumbled.

You stormed past him in a huff and went to your bedroom, where you were hoping to get some sleep - but you doubted that you would.

The next day you found Adam waiting in the garden for you. You gave him a reluctant smile when you saw him. You didn’t know what he was doing here, and for the first time you weren’t glad to see him. This was not a safe place for him, why did he come back here?

You threw on a coat, and went to greet him. Your feet brushed over the cool grass as you trudged over to him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How are you?” Adam asked calmly.

“Could be better. Adam, they’re trying to tell me how to feel. This love is difficult.”

“But it’s real,” Adam replied smoothly. “Don’t doubt that, F/N L/N.”

You huffed out dubiously. “How can you say that after last night?”

Adam only said, “Don’t be afraid, we’ll make it out of this mess. It’s a love story. Baby just say ‘yes’.” He brushed out your jacket. “Please.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Days went by after that. You didn’t see Adam for a long time. You wondered what was happening. Why wasn’t he answering your calls? Why wasn’t he showing up anymore? Maybe your dad had been right from the beginning? You didn’t want to think that, but life was getting lonely. Speaking of your dad, you hadn’t seen much of him lately either. He hadn’t spoken much to you at all. You walked aimlessly around the garden, your heart heavy.

What the hell?

You didn’t want to feel hopeless, but there was an empty setting in your stomach. It worried you, it upset you, it frightened you. You decided to go for a walk. A long walk. You needed out of here! Some place to clear your head. Some time to get away from the memories.

When you reached the outskirts of your small town, you stopped walking. You didn’t know what you were doing here, but you knew you should return home. It probably wasn’t safe here by the road when it was getting dark. You turned around, and found someone you were not expecting.

Adam Stanheight was watching you from afar. A smile was on his face. You stared at him halfheartedly. “What? Are you here to break my heart?”

Faulkner shifted his weight from foot to foot, but didn’t say anything to you, which made you feel even more dismayed. His eyes shone with some kind of deviance, and playfulness, and… knowledge that you were unaware of.

“What? Are you going to talk to me?”

Still, silence.

“Well I have some things to say to you.”

Adam shrugged. “By all means.” He was way too damn relaxed!

“Adam, save me! I’ve been feeling so alone. I keep waiting for you, but you never come!”

“Let’s change that,” Adam said in a quiet tone. Kneeling to the ground, he pulled out a ring. “Marry me, Y/N. You’ll never have to be alone. I love you, and that’s all I really know. I talked to your dad-”

“How the hell did you talk to my dad?” You interrupted.

Adam tilted his head to the side. “You said something that changed his mind.”

You glared at the ground. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” Adam insisted. “He got to know me a little. He said he was sorry for jumping to conclusions. Said you were right the whole time, and that maybe not everyone’s life will be the same. He said he gives us his blessing.”

You stared at him. “What?”

“Just pick out a white dress, okay. It’s a love story. Baby just say ‘yes’.” Adam put a lot of emphasis on the last word.

Your heart was almost literally jumping out of your throat. “Oh my god. Yes. I will. I want this.”

Adam pulled you down and kissed you. “Don’t be so negative, princess. I didn’t give up on us. Why should you?”

You buried your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

Adam hugged you close. “Stay with me.” And you kissed him in response.

Slowly, cautiously, you opened your eyes again. Adam was holding you close to him. “Adam,” you whispered.

“We were both young when I first saw you,” he said softly.

You clung to him. “We’re still married after all this time,” you said distantly.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Adam remarked.

You pressed close to him. “Me neither.”

He kissed you, and pushed you to the floor. You let out a moan of surprise, which Adam seemed to take delight in, and he started caressing you. You allowed him to touch you. “It’s been awhile,” you commented.

“Shh. Just relax.”

You leaned your head back. “Sure.” You whispered, as Adam started pulling off your clothes. And that’s exactly what you did. But the sun was setting out the window and the windows were closed and shuttered, and the neighbors were all asleep. But Adam was calm and collected - as ever. The duo would follow the sun tonight and take things all the more slowly. It was vital for the first year anniversary. It was the newly made tradition.

And it wasn't about to change.


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10 months ago

This is my husband 🤣❤️ he always wants the tea and is always delighted when he has some to share with me


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3 years ago

Open or close casket

Open Or Close Casket

How much of yourself is supposed to be given in the name of love? What are the rules for living independently, dependently? Can I breath with my own permission? Am I allowed to feel what I want without you!?

At what point, is affection and consideration, gestures willingly done without force?

People say being single is terrible. I say being single is a book that needs to be written. Single people witness couples people go through there ups and downs. Single people believe it or not! Know most of your intimate Intricacies as well your inadequacies too. All in the name of being heard. I listen!

Relationships are conventionally thought to be two people who admires so much that they rather be together than a part. In today’s world it’s almost always how hard can you make me cum. How much can you give me for this pleasure? Well if you don’t know. Im single who’s ready to mingle. But! Many of my close friends are not. One in particular is the Enchantress. A woman so beautiful, she is said to make even the most of (homo) reconsider if he is.

You see, she’s been in a relationship with this man for two going on three years now. A relationship that was budding like the spring equinox were in. Often I’d see her rushing into a cab leaving us behind. While we were in a group setting. Usually I would consider this being rude. But! I too know the bee sting of love. Her man is a doctor who originally from South America. But! Was raised here in the states. My friend has a taste for the luxurious things in life. She chooses to be with a man who has what it takes. Than a man she’s have to build up and be drained from. And No! She has her own. And yes! She does identify, occasionally, as a gold digger.

The way she puts it, is that men. No matter where, on the planet choose to be with a naturally bountiful woman. A woman who can and does understand his emotional, physical and spiritual needs. So why not be with a man who can make this bond, a enjoyable one. Never having to worry about the price on a tag. Or the amount on a dinner bill. To focus on what she’s naturally capable of doing. Giving birth and tending to their children.

I had a hard time, honestly; viewing her perspective at first. Until I first hand had seen what women go through in romantic settings. How they are expected to always give up or tend to more than their partners. This too can be implied to feminine gay men, who are the submitters in there relationship. You see, to me submission is an act of great trust. It is one of the most valuable things any person can give to one another. Now! For the sake of this post. I’ll do my best to stay on topic. However. Straight men or other identifying people can submit to their wives and partners too. It’s a bond. Which is why people kill for love. In the case of the enchantress, I have seen her do this over and over. To the point that I don't understand why she gives him so much privilege. Time after time I see how each time he chips away from her. Little by little there's parts of her light that grows dimmer and dimmer. I wonder How thins will turn out in the end.

At the end of the day all we or me, can do is help her see what's happening. After all, to many people, love is blind.

The desire of the heart is what makes her so vulnerable to his actions. She's not unaware of how things are for her. She see's she feels and she knows. there's been times when I tell her to think about it all. Think about how you would feel in the future with this man. When you wed this is what you wed into. You take on him, his burdens, his mother, even his children and the 1st baby mama! Yes! I said it 1st. that's coming up later ronin much detail.

I have to say, when you choose to bind yourself or anyone else you must think of how hard it is to be them. Love spells are not something to be played with because in fact they are not love spells. they are domination spells and binding spells. Actions that strip or lessen the will of another. That is why you must make sure the person loves you on their own accord. And not just" like" you! She herself has said the root has worked stuplendidly. And yes she said she waited for him to love her before she loved him. Or loves him. But! What spell could be so, If he's already being worked on? Regardless of the spell cast on to this man. Or even for future knowledge. You must be clean of the eyes that lay on you. You must have a clean subject to work on. Paint you canvas with your herbs and candles. But! if the cloth or canvas is stained with that of another. What say you do? What do you do. And that is nothing! Or nothing but! Clean. And this is where I believe the Enchantress trouble's lie. She fell for a canvas that's been soiled and cast upon. And like a woman in love. She did not clean and or wait. She did not see the signs or what had been done. Only what her heart desired, She saw what her spells have brought her. A man of her wishes.

The desires of the Enchantress is that:

A man who can love, even through the dullest of pain, sharpest of blades. That he'd be able to continue to push through and try.

A man who's wealth goes beyond that of his first, second and even third born children. A wealth that is not worried for. Where the children can be sing gleefully and be most gay.

A man who puts his wife's needs before his own and expect the same in return.

But! these are only but a few mutters I was able to hear from the parched lips of my sister witch. For her spells are hers. I myself prefer the scrying of my crystal balls and tarot work. With the watchful eyes of the "MIST" people to do my bidding. I think that spells are last resort. Unless other wise absolutely needed. Manipulation I feel is just as good, if not better. Because The mind and heart wants what it wants. And that can undo or break through, poke through any spell or any binding. And that to me is the case with the enchantresses relationship. No magic or spell. Hell.....not even being bound by spirit can change the internal conflict a man has regarding the love lost from a parent or his first love. Or the hearts true desire. To me this is why men need to learn to own there feelings. I have seen many spells undone though actions and not intention because their hearts desire are else where.

There will be things said and things seen that may make this union be more than just questioned! I must go for now Dear Tumblr. Until then................................ To be continued.


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3 years ago

I just really want an online friend that probably lives in the UK or Italy or Japan or something and we talk almost everyday and when I get online their icon pops up, or whatever I don’t actually know how that works, and I can get so excited to see they’ve sent a new message and we play online games together and we just trust and love each other so much and we have a great time together and then either

      a. it turns out that they’re in my area for a few weeks and we decide to meet up and we just have a fun time doing things together and they realise they’ve fallen in love with me but never say anything because they’ve heard me say that I’m not into dating and then they just die inside a little every time I mention a person is good-looking and have a mini-heart attack when I tell them I think they’re attractive but they think it means nothing because I say that about a lot of people when in reality I just want them to feel better because I want to make sure they love themselves and they eventually confess and we get married

      or b. they eventually move to my area and we become friends in real life but don’t know it’s each other and I decide this would be the best person to marry because I’ll probably never meet my online friend in real life and then I confess and they reject me because they’ve fallen in love with the online me and I’m a little disappointed and way embarrassed but otherwise move on while that night my friend freaks out and tells the online me what happened and how worried they are that they’re gonna lose their in-person best friend and then I’m like oh wait are these the same person? and then I start setting tests and they keep passing them and then finally I’m like hey in-person friend are you this online friend? and then they’re like WHAAAATT?? and I’m like oh yeah I figured it out a while ago kind of and then we get into a fight because I never said anything but I was like I didn’t know for sure and I didn’t want to assume anything! and they leave in a rage and I cry that night because I’ve just lost both of my best friends and also because this just plays into my idea that I can’t do anything right but then they message me at like two in the morning that after some time to calm down they realise I was right and they would have done the same and they’re way sorry and they would like to talk about it and it takes a while to trust them again but we eventually grow from it and they confess and I’m like I want to marry you because I don’t think I would marry anyone else and then we get married.

Is that too much to ask?

(this was just supposed to be how I want an online friend to talk to that just accepts me so openly but it turned into a fic I recently read anyways)


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2 years ago

Sorry for not posting for a while, this year has me busy. I have some amazing news.

Sorry For Not Posting For A While, This Year Has Me Busy. I Have Some Amazing News.

I'm getting married! Me and my now fiance have been wanting to marry for God knows how long and now it's happening!

I already can't wait for the wedding day!


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11 months ago

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐶. 𝑆.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ❆ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜

 | . .
 | . .
 | . .

𝟾.𝟽.𝟸𝟺

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 𝟸𝟹𝟶𝟼

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑣𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑡, 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑒 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑦 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

“𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑

𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 (𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒

𝑦𝑜𝑢)“

~ 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒 | 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑎 𝐷𝑒𝑙 𝑅𝑒𝑦

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

 | . .

Coriolanus Snow isn’t the feelings type of person. He didn’t express an ounce of love for you throughout your entire marriage, and didn’t expect any from you. Not even in the most intimate of moments, and never behind closed doors.

He wasn’t abusive which is better than most man in the capitol. Although if you ever got in his way there was no doubt that you would meet an untimely demise. He mostly just kept himself cooped up in his office all day, mulling over stacks of papers and papers.

You were more than an exceptional wife by his standards. Quiet and obedient, you were smart and graceful and were a wonderful cook when need be. You have given him a beautiful heir, with little to no complications during birth.

He admired your beauty, appreciated you in general, but love you? No. He denied himself of love after that horrible district girl had torn down the walls that he had so meticulously crafted his whole life. All because he had been stupid enough to fall for district scum.

So why was it that when you had succumbed to your sickness had he been drowned in such an overwhelming feeling of dread that he felt like recreating the end of Romeo and Juliet?

At this moment he lies curled in on himself on the queen-sized bed in your sleeping quarters. You two had never shared a room and his is down the hall but for some reason he does not get up when he knows he should.

Sheets engulf his body, smelling of the rose perfume he insisted you wore mixed with the smell of your shampoo. Dried tears stick to his face and his eyelashes droop from the weight of them.

He wasn’t like this immediately after the funeral, what drove him to this point is noticing all the things you had done for him that now leave a gaping hole in his life.

The way you used to draw designs on his coffee every morning, the way you would massage his back after a long day of work without him even having to ask, the way you would bring him snacks when you knew he hadn't eaten all day from being too engrossed in his work.

He would always shoo you away and chastise you for disturbing his work, (although would always bring an empty plate back into the kitchen).

For some reason, he was expecting you to come into his office to hand him a plate of food or ease the tension of his shoulders with your delicate hands. But then you didn't.

And he couldn't take it anymore.

Which is why he has barely moved from his position for days, only to go to the bathroom occasionally. He can’t remember the last time he ate or drank anything. Maybe at the funeral, maybe before.

He sees you in his dreams, what your relationship could've been if he wasn’t so cold to you

.So he rolls over and slips into unconsciousness yet again.

You walk with him in the gardens of the president’s mansion.

The gardens you so carefully tend to every day, even after Coriolanus tells you that you can hire people to do that. You say it’s for your joy, and although he still thinks it inefficacious he leaves you be.

“The gardens really do look beautiful at this time of year,” you state as you lean in to capture the musk of a rose bush besides you.

It really is an alluring sight, even a man like Coriolanus can admit. Although he has come to notice everything you touch has become beautiful in his eyes.

“Yes, it does,” he says, his eyes practically glued to the back of your head.

You reach your hand out to touch one of the flowers and prick your finger on a thorn.

You wince and Coriolanus peeks over your shoulder to see a red stain on your, otherwise perfect in his eyes skin.

“Are you okay?” he reaches out and places and hand onto your shoulder to try and give a soothing effect, nevertheless his hands had never had that effect on people, as they are nearly the same as a corpeses in temperature.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you say.

A strong feeling of a mix deja vu and unease spread though his body, manefesting in a shiver that runs all though his frame.

It’s not fine.

The bleeding doesn’t stop.

Blood gushes out of the wound and the force of it tears the skin around it. Three long gashes spread their way up your arm as you let out a chilling scream.

The red liquid spills and pools around your feet as your face twists in horror. Your knees hit the floor with a sikening crack and they split the fresh blood mixing with the blood littered with debris from the floor.

“HELP ME!” You shriek as the gashes spread up your shoulders and to your neck the loose skin of your arms draping off of the red flesh underneath. Almost like a flower wilting.

You always were his rose.

Coriolanus’s wants to help, he really does, surprisingly. But something is preventing him from moving, his body is as stiff as a board. He tries to move, to override the benevolent power that overwhelms his whole body. But he can’t. He is out of control.

He hates being out of control.

He wakes up drenched in sweat. His heart is beating rapidly and his breathing is skewed. He turns to his side and vomit spews off the side of the bed and into a bowl that one of the avox put down after the third time cleaning up.

Grief is something that Coriolanus has had very minimal exposure to, so it materializes in such a violent way for him.

He stumbles out of bed and makes his way to the desk next to the entrance of the room. Sitting on it is the diary you kept, you would write in it every night, Coriolanus knows. You rarely wrote in his presence but during the few times you did you refused to go into much detail of the contents. He assumed it was because you were writing about minuscule things, and he was right. For the most part.

But as he sat days ago, after your funeral, he found himself turning to the back pages of the worn book to find detailed entries of the last days of your life.

Repeating things like, ‘I told Coriolanus it was just a cold so he wouldn’t worry.’ And things similar to that dotted across the pages.

Some of the later pages become incoherent as your state deteriorates and you become too tired to form the thoughts that ever so filled your brain before.

One of the specific reasons you downplayed your sickness was you didn’t want to distract him from his work.

His stupid, horrid work.

He never wants to set foot in his office again.

Much less touch quill to paper.

His therapist, (that you suggested to him), told him not to beat himself up about it, that it wasn’t his fault. But how could he think otherwise? It was his fault, it was, at least by his justification.

Maybe that’s what he was feeling, guilt. Guilt for prioritizing work over you, his wife, the person he should be completely enamored with. Guilt for not being there for you in your final moments. Guilt for never saying goodbye.

Maybe guilt is why he lays his head down on your desk, or maybe it’s the selfish need to not want to deal with his thoughts anymore. And sleep washes over him.

Coriolanus would’ve been perfectly fine, content even, with sitting at a table in the corner of the room. A glass of posca in hand, observing other people mingle and dance. And he would’ve stayed if Ms. Plinth hadn’t urged him to go dance.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to do formal dances he just despised them. Ms. Plinth was right though, stating that it would be a perfect place to find the wife he talks about so very much.

He goes through a couple of dances with… interesting people before he spots you. You sit at a table with a girl, a beaming smile on your face as you laugh at something the girl had just said. He makes a beeline to you, as nonchalantly as he can. Which is admittedly not very.

Once he gets there your friend gets up and gives you a look and nods her head towards him subtly. He has no idea what that means but hopes for the best.

“May I… uh have this dance?” He asks as you filck your eyes up to him. You hold your hand out to him and he lowers his head and takes your hand in his before bringing it to his lips, giving your hand a slight peck

“Sure, umm-” you look to him for his name

“Snow, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Coriolanus Snow.”

A waltz starts playing and you take to the floor. With one hand still gripping yours and the other resting on your waist where the torso of your dress ends and the skirt stops, he guides you through the dance. And you get lost in the steps and twirls, completing each step from muscle memory.

Couples dance around you and you seem to take in everything but him. But he is solely looking at you.

When your eyes do land on him his breath falters for a second, just as the music slows but he plays off his very obvious staring.

Once the music comes to a stop you thank him and curtsy, “Do you want to go have some fun?” You ask in a whisper just as he is going to send you off. Not that he wants to get rid of you.

“I- what do you mean?” he asks, his mind wandering.

You gasp, feigning insult. “Do you think me a common whore Coriolanus?” you place a hand on your chest, “I meant to wander the halls, visit the garden. Something other than being here.”

He nods and you slip out of the room and walk through the halls.

“You know I really do hate those events. They are one of the most boring things I have ever experienced. I usually just come for the food to be honest.” you ramble as you stroll through the corridors.

“Right?” he says “Also the amount of dances you have to memorize is lethal.”

You laugh, a sound that is like heaven to his ears. Just as he lets his guard down you pull him into a room and quickly close the door behind you.

“I think I heard someone coming,” you breathe out.

“That or you just wanted to get into a room with me alone,” he jokes “though I wouldn’t be completely against the idea.”

Your eyes, god your eyes, shift up to him. “Hm?”

“I said what I said.”

You move to peek out of the crack of the door and see a guard walking by. Once his footsteps fade away you slip out of the room and hurry down the hallway in a fit of muffled laughter.

The crunch of your footsteps ricochet off the hedges of the garden as you nibble a croissant that Coriolanus had snuck into the hall to grab.

“You eat very slowly,” he says, observing the pastry still in your hand.

“You eat like a starved man,” you say as of now you are taking larger bites, conscious of his words.

You and him find a seat on a marble bench under a tree that has draping limbs resembling the strands of a wig once placed on a mannequin that is not quite the right size. By now you have finished your croissant.

The remnants, he notices, are still resting on the corner of your lips.

His hand grips your chin and turns your face toward him. Your brows furrow and your gaze lands on his.

“What?” You question although it comes out as more of a nervous laugh.

He brings his other hand up to your face and swipes the chocolate from your lips.

“You had something,” he breathes. His hand still is resting on your face and a couple of moments of silence pass. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

His words send a rush of warmth down your spine, “so I’ve been told,” you respond in a breathy whisper.

Almost agonizingly slow, he leans into his face getting closer to yours every second, every breath.

Under normal circumstances this would be something Coriolanus would never do. Spontaneous and him don’t mix. But something about you makes him want to rush, rush everything. Just so you can be his.

Coriolanus wakes with a jolt. Quite literally as someone is shaking him out of his slumber.

“Mr. Snow, your supper has been prepared.” One of his maids say. Glinda, that’s her name, old but efficient in her craft.

“Thank you,” he dismisses her with his words along with a wave of his hands and gets up from the chair. Pain shooting up his back from the not-so-comfortable sleeping position.

He makes his way down the hall for a lonely dinner, the first one in days. One that he specifically asked for your favorite foods to be littered across the spread of the meal.

He eats listlessly, and makes his way back to your room.

He doesn’t bother to change into pajamas and just lays down and rests his head on the pillow that he prays will never lose your scent.

He nods off and falls into the dream space of you that will continue to torture him every night.

Now until forever.


Tags :
10 years ago
Both Molly II And Louis Married Muggles.

Both Molly II and Louis married muggles.


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10 years ago
The Weasley/Potter/Longbottom Girls Were Always Close. Everyone Of Them Had At Least One Of The Other

The Weasley/Potter/Longbottom girls were always close. Everyone of them had at least one of the other girls present when they tried on wedding dresses. Victoire had Dominique. Dom had Victoire and Roxanne. Roxanne had Alice. Rose had Alice and Lily. Alice and Lily both brought Rose.


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10 months ago

Can anybody help me? Years ago I read a Hermione and Snape fanfiction on Wattpad where Ron gets cursed when he proposes to Hermione and it's because she's already bound to Snape in a marriage bond. The bond has to be activated by a kiss and though they never kissed she gave him CPR during his recovery from the war and she called it the kiss of life. I've been trying to find it and I can't find it anywhere


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1 year ago

Trust me

Trust Me

Summary- Benedict has been acting weird because of an incident involving one of his muses (she attempted to sa him). Reader tried to gently coax him out of his ‘bubble’ though it was no use until she tried to touch him, earning her a jolt.

Rating- Mature (16+)

Paring- Benedict Bridgerton x female!reader

Warnings- Angst, talks of se***l assault, fluff, slight language, established relationship, happy ending (hopefully that’s all)

Words- 1,841

Trust Me

“Daph, may I ask you something?” you quipped quite unexpectedly. Both you and Daphne were basking in this season’s summer heat from inside Clyvedon Castle’s drawing room, enjoying a rather nice cup of tea. Daphne had decided her time being a Duchess was well-earned for now and was in desperate need of her family’s boastful laughs and silly jests—not to mention their hectic dinners—to indulge her once again. You were especially excited for her visit, not only because you had a chance to see Daph’s little bundle of joy, but because you and she were very close, even before the Duke himself. Childhood friends. You remember all those years ago when you tried to encourage her relationship with the Duke, supporting him over the charming but ‘bland’ prince. She reciprocated her feelings, knowing your deep affection for her big brother, Benedict, and desperately tried to get both of you to admit your stubborn feelings for each other. Her efforts successfully paid off, resulting in the love-bird couple getting married two weeks after their confessions.

It was almost the reason you set up a little date with your friend. Your relationship with Benedict had somehow…shifted? You didn’t want to jump to conclusions before talking with your husband; you knew he preferred some space at times, especially if an idea popped into his creative brain and he wanted to sketch or paint it out before the thought could disappear as soon as it came. But this time…this time felt off. Your first hint was waking up to a cold and empty bed, though you passed it off as a little accident from him staying up late painting (it’s usually when he feels most creative), but then those cold mornings became continuous. You felt it was best to leave it as it was, for now—not exactly avoiding the situation but analyzing it for a deeper reasoning. In the afternoon, when the family mostly had time to take a break from important activities, you would greet your husband with a simple “Hello love” or “Have a wonderful evening, Ben,” but it only resulted in brief nods and odd grunts he never let out before. It was a breaking point when he stayed out the whole evening, never coming back until early morning, only making eye contact with you for the first time at breakfast. You never wanted to jump to conclusions with him, but there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that whatever was troubling him could not be good and would only be revealed if you gently guided him to confess.

“Of course, dear sister,” she said with adoration. “What has been on your mind?” You played with the embroidery on your dress, encouraging yourself to say what had been on your mind for the past week.

“Has Benedict been acting a bit…strange around me?” You could tell your husband had no problems with his family; in fact, you noticed he’d been engaging with them more than he used to. It only added more slight hurt and suspicion to your heart, knowing the problem was most likely you. Your friend only added more salt to the wound when a poorly concealed look of guilt was etched onto her face. Shaking your head, you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to pour from your burning eyes. So it is you. You’re the reason he’s been acting this way; you're the reason he can’t so much as look you in the eye with adoration and instead, uncomfortablene-

“Now, now, I didn’t say I know the reason why he has been acting this way…just that I have noticed,” she said, placing a gloved hand on top of your fidgeting bare ones.

“Have I done something wrong, Daph? Did I disrespect him in any way? Could it be the time I accidentally took the last blueberry tart that one day? I swear I didn’t know that was the last of them!” You remembered his frustration when he found out who ate his favorite dessert that only came seasonally, but he told you it was perfectly fine, blaming himself for not getting to them fast enough. Daphne only smiled at your silly accusation; this was a serious matter, of course, but it was nice to see you deeply care for her brother and his feelings, even going as far as to think of the tiniest times something conflicting had happened between you two.

“It couldn’t possibly be because of something so little and, dare I say, pointless,” Daphne moved closer to you, grabbing both of your hands in the process. “Tell me, when was the last time he acted normal towards you?” You tried to recall, surfing past a week of old memories until focusing on a time when he told you quite happily about a new art project that consisted of a new muse he met at one of the diversified functions he (now rarely) went to. You knew where Benedict’s heart lay and had no problem with who he used for his artistic designs whatsoever, so using another woman for his professional acts never triggered you.

“Well, he was boasting to me about finding a new muse for some artwork before going to bed, and then after his first encounter with the woman, that was when he started to act strange.” Daphne hummed, understanding your words carefully.

“Now, I don’t want to worry you, but maybe his actions have something to do with this muse.” You tried to ignore the deep pang of nervousness within your chest. No. Ben is never the type of person to commit such a vile act.

“I won’t jump to conclusions, but somehow I need to talk with him.” Your dear friend only nodded in agreement.

“It is all you can do, sister. Benedict can have some trouble confessing things that do not relate to others, but with a gentle push, he’ll pour everything he’s tried to conceal out like a waterfall, so don’t try to drown.” She teased with a slight squeeze of your hands, trying to lighten the dark conversation.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

It was now late evening. Most Bridgertons had called it a night, preparing for the next activities that awaited them the next day; meanwhile, you awaited your husband in your shared chambers, sitting on the foot of the bed in your cream nightgown, one of Ben’s favorites. Your husband awkwardly met with you after another time at the bar with Anthony. He stood in front of the entryway, tugging on the collar of his suit as if a hand was wrapped around his throat, stubbornly staying there. You immediately arose from your position, too nervous to say anything that would get him to abruptly leave like other times.

“Ben…” you whispered softly, unintentionally reaching out a delicate hand in the hope he’d grab it and hug you like he never had before and all would be well, but instead, you received a firm nod and a fast-paced walk toward the water closet. “Benedict!” you demanded more firmly, grabbing his hand in the process, but he instantly removed it from your grasp like it was the hottest thing in the world. Benedict stumbled back, wide-eyed with unstable breaths, heart pounding from the touch. You stood where you were, not knowing what to do. Never had he purposely removed your touch; never so quickly and with a face of horror. “What have I done?” you mumbled more to yourself.

Benedict hesitantly said your name but was quickly cut off by your pained voice. “What did you do that day in your art room with that…woman?” you cautiously crept closer to your husband, too afraid he would jerk away once again. Benedict looked as if he was on the verge of vomiting, cringing when you mentioned ‘woman.’

“N-Nothing, love.” Love. The kind and adoring word felt forced and bland coming from him. It only made you inwardly cry once more.

“Benedict, you must tell me. Whatever it is; I won’t get mad. I swear it.” It was like a wave of guilt, hurt, and resentment came crashing out of a dam he tried so desperately to hold back. His eyes were now red and irritated with tears threatening to spill. It was as if his knees had a mind of their own and felt the need to give out, and before he came crashing down, you were there to hold him and gently place yourselves on the carpeted ground. You cradled him, caressed him, gently whispered comforting nothings in his ear—anything and everything to ensure he was alright and safe.

“I-I never meant to hurt you, angel,” he croaked out through his sobs. You shook your head, almost on the verge of tears yourself.

“You can never truly hurt me, Ben; who did this to you? Was it the woman? What did she do?” you questioned wholeheartedly. Benedict cleared his throat while lifting his head to meet your eyes, your slight nod encouraging him to release the burden that had been locked up within his soul for the past week.

“She…She touched me.”

“Touched you?” you repeated, knowing exactly what he implied. You couldn’t bear the culpability to engross your body. You selfishly thought, though very little, that whatever was going on between him and the muse was…intimate, but in true reality, your husband had been assaulted. Your hold on Ben tightened, silently apologizing to his heart over and over again.

“I tried to tell her to stop…I tried to yell, scream, shout ‘stop,’ but every time the word formed in my mouth, it…it melted. I was scared, only thinking about how you would feel if I,” he paused, “if I told you what she tried to do to me. My mother knocked on the door before anything further happened, and I never felt more grateful in my entire life.” You speechlessly cradled your hands on either side of his face, connecting your heads as one.

“Don’t ever be afraid to come to me when you need help, my heart,” you soothed. “I’m sorry for trying to touch you, and I respect it if you would like more space. I’ll find a guest chamber tonight if I have to,” you said before releasing your hold from Benedict, though he grabbed one of your hands and rested it on top of his.

“There's no need. I think I’m alright now, a little jittery but okay. I need you by my side more than ever now.”

“And I’ll be there every step, Ben.” Your smile slowly turned down at the thought of that imbecile of a woman. “I will kill her even if the whole ton watches. Fuck society, fuck Whistledown,” you seethed. Benedict breathed out a chuckle at your antics.

“Though I would have loved to see that, it’s already dealt with.” You ‘awed’ in partial defeat, making your husband laugh more.

“I love you, Benedict. Never forget that,” you demanded sincerely with every nerve and fiber in your body.

“I love you. Never forget it either.”

Trust Me

Authors note: Hey guys! This is my very first complete oneshot and I’m pretty proud of it. It might have some flaws in there but hopefully, I can learn about them and get better. Please tell me if there are any errors or actions that don’t align with the character's personalities and I’ll fix them as soon as possible! Thank you!

Ps, I don’t really know Benedict’s feelings when sad/hurt since he’s kind of a genuine, playful, and overall comfort character in the show so hopefully I got that down but like I said please let me know if anything’s wrong with the short story!!


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11 months ago

cookie run rare pair art

Cookie Run Rare Pair Art

this is old LOL i think this ship is still cute


Tags :
1 year ago

Lost (PG10) pt.1

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, heartbreak.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! So I had put out a post about getting motivation to write something up, so thank you to all for commenting and encouraging me! Love You All 😘

Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

Lost (PG10) Pt.1
Lost (PG10) Pt.1

Journal Entry -1

LOVE....It's something that i have always yearned for.

Even if it's fake. A little bit of admiration, a simple compliment can make my day. 

It's been like this ever since my brother, Isaac Conti left the world. I started living with my step mother Annie Conti and my step sister Julia Conti. Yes, Isaac was my step sibling too but he never made me feel like i'm not his own sister.

My brother was the only one who actually loved me and admired me to the fullest in this family. My mother was an Indian and was forced to marry my father after she saved him from an accident when he was travelling in India. I was a part of a mistake. Ever since my maa died everyone except my brother treated me like shit. Even my father. 

But then i met him. My love of my life, the most important person in my life. My husband Pierre Gasly, the playboy of the F1 track!

Once again life played a merciless game with me. The man that i'm committed to, married to , bound by vows is in love with someone else. To be more clear he's in love with my sister Julia Conti.

How pathetic am i to have a life like this huh! We've been married for about 7 months now because that was my brother's last wish before leaving us. Pierre was his friend and he thought that getting me hitched would've been the best thing to do, but to think of it , it was his biggest mistake. He knew i've always had feelings for a certain blue eyed boy, thus, his decision, but what he didn't know was that Pierre has always been in love with my sister and married me only to get close to her. Pierre cleared everything out for me once we came back from the reception right after our wedding.

Now it's been a few days, two months to be exact that they've been dating , oh! and also sleeping around. What's sad is that i've caught them a few times during action in his bedroom. The only thing that i could do is simply go up to the terrace, look up to the sky and cry my eyes out calling out my Maa and my Brother. I don't blame Isaac for anything.  It's all my fate. 

I'm a pathetic excuse of a human as my husband likes to call me, who does not deserve anything in this world except for tears and sadness.

If you're wondering if Pierre had always been like this? Then let me tell you No! 

It all started after 1 month of our marriage when  he started talking to my sister more and giving her more attention. The lies that had been fed to him by my Step Mother and Step Sister about me is what he believed at the end of the day.

Life has always been a mockery for me. I am not allowed to speak to anyone, it's not like i have any friends to talk to. The only thing i am useful for is to tag along with Pierre to a few of his races or a few other important events as his trophy wife just cause it's an obligation.

No one really knows what happens in our life everyday, not even his grid mates. I'm sure it wouldn't have made any difference seeing they are his best friends. I'm not even allowed to talk to them even if i've seen them around at parties and races. I think my attitude has probably led them to think that i'm a snobby little bitch just like my Step sister. Oh yes! I do use bad words sometimes cause why not? I'm supposed to be able to do at least certain things in life right?

It's not like Pierre is going to read what i'm writing here? 

I've given up everything, every little dreams of mine, SO if you ask me if i think that Pierre is ever gonna love me back , then my answer is No!I would never even dream about thinking that he's gonna love me back.

But there's one person who always looks out for me, he's my only friend I suppose, and that's a certain ferrari driver with a charming smile that always lifts up my mood.

Anyways,I'll just sit aside and keep loving Pierre forever, even after he leaves me for my step sister after a year of our marriage. Just 5 more months to go. 5 more months to be with him. 5 more months to stay by his side as trophy wife when he goes out for parties and races. 

His world is a big one. Where he has got his grid mates, his family, his fans, his work people , my step sister even my step mom...... Everyone except for good ol' me....

I, Mrs. Y/n Gasly is just a LOST case in his big world...

Let's see where the upcoming 5 months take us....

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️


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1 year ago

Lost (PG10) pt.2

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, explicit scenes and languages.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! So a few days back I posted the first chapter of my first ever fanfic! And I'm overwhelmed by the response ❤️ Really Thanks a lot to everyone who had liked the story so far. It's just the beginning of the journey, there's a lot to come. Love You All 😘 Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

Lost (PG10) Pt.2
Lost (PG10) Pt.2

Journal Entry -2

A new episode and a new day of my life. Never in my 24 years of life have I ever thought that I would have to come across this day. This awful day when i would have to sit through a whole day in my room crying my eyes out and coming out of my room only when i'm called for causes like "Julia needs a glass of water, you need to clean Julia's dress, Julia accidentally dropped food on the floor, clean up the mess" so on and so forth. Today was the day when I had to look at the most heart wrenching thing ever...

So here's what happened 

*FLASHBACK*

I was reading a book in my room and suddenly someone knocked at my door. I opened the door and came across Pierre!

"H-hey! you need something?"

I noticed him looking inside my room at our wedding picture hanging on the wall right above my head. Obviously he'd be curious about my room cause he's never been inside my room before. I actually felt a little awkward so i cleared my throat to get his attention.

"Uh! yea actually Julia was having a headache, go and make some soup or something and bring it up to my room  along with some medicine!" There was that tone! Full of despise for me.

"Sure" By saying that i went down to the kitchen to make some soup for her.

That's what my job in this house is after all, looking after the house and the people in it. Oh! Did I mention? We do not have any maids. Cause apparently according to my husband's mistress, I'm not any different than a maid so why waste money on hiring one? Anyways, after making the soup and being satisfied with it I went towards Pierre's room and stopped once I saw something that no married or committed person should ever see. My husband was on top of my sister thrusting deep inside her and them moaning out each other's name. 

You must be thinking that what am i so shaken up about? I should've been used to this by now, Well this is the first time i'm seeing them doing it in front of my eyes. Yes i admit it that i've heard them before but seeing it live, right in front of me is a whiplash of a whole lot of negative thoughts. And what did I do in that situation? Nothing! I just closed the door silently, kept the soup and the medicine outside the room and came back to my room and cried my eyes out! Why did they have to keep the door opened? Did my husband really become so heartless? Did he really want me to see that I can never get his love? Did he really have literally shove it in my face that he belongs completely and soulfully to his mistress and I can never take her place?

Oh! and the agony! My Step sister saw me standing outside the room and smirked!

Yes she had the audacity to smirk at me....

*FLASHBACK ENDS*

I know i'm young and naive. My sister is 27 and i'm 24 years old. She's more mature than I am, sexier, prettier, and more perfect , with an hourglass figure, amazing style. But all that, with a nasty heart it seems. She can easily go out wearing anything and everything that she wants whereas I tend to gravitate towards PJ's, hoodies and oversized clothes. The only time I wear dresses are at the parties that I attend with my husband. But still, he never looks at me the same way he looks at her. She is definitely Pierre's s absolute match in all spheres. And here I am, stupid little girl crying my eyes out inside my room cause my husband is making love to my step sister. 

I, Mrs. Y/n Gasly is once again LOST!

LOST in my sister's PERFECTION!

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️

@peachiicherries @crimeshowjunkie

@oblomovissad ❤️


Tags :
1 year ago

Lost (PG10) pt.3

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, explicit scenes and languages.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! So it's finally here! Tbe 3rd part of my fanfic.I posted the first chapter of my first ever fanfic! And I'm overwhelmed by the response ❤️ Really Thanks a lot to everyone who had liked the story so far. It's just the beginning of the journey, there's a lot to come. Love You All 😘 Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

Lost (PG10) Pt.3
Lost (PG10) Pt.3

Journal Entry - 3

Pain is something that can be forgotten if that one person that you love gives you a smile. Butterflies, jitters, rainbows! Yea, that's my heart right now. I can melt right away. Right in front of him. Pierre Gasly has a beautiful smile!

Those sparkling eyes when he smiles has the power to light up my whole world. But why did he smile at me today?

Let me tell you what exactly happened.

I woke up a little late today because of all the crying I did yesterday. I went into the washroom to take a shower and freshen up and when I saw myself in the mirror I was scared of myself! Like seriously I look like a fucking zombie! Tear stains and melted mascara stains all over my face. But what's worse are my eyes. They were blood red and super swollen. No makeup, no face wash could cover that shit up. But I couldn't let Pierre see me like that. So the only thing that I could think of was wearing sunglasses. BIG BLACK SUNGLASSES! That too inside the house cause I wasn't allowed to go anywhere outside unless it was one of his races or events, where we'd have to pretend to be a super happy and In love kind of a couple. Life Sucks for me. Anyways I changed and was going to go down when I heard noises coming from the kitchen. Other than me no one usually goes inside the kitchen , so who might it be?

A little bit curious and also frightened I went inside the kitchen only to find my ever charming husband sporting the brightest radiant smile I've ever seen. My Husband Pierre Gasly! Standing right there with black shorts and a tight fitting black tshirt. His muscles stretching and struggling from it. The tshirt seems to be too tight but he still looks like a prince.

To be very honest it was a bit weird for me. Okay chuck it! It was very weird for me but I just played it cool by returning a very awkward smile to him.

" Good morning and thanks Y/n" Woah! That was the first time he actually wished me good morning. I seriously felt like I was on cloud 9 but I don't really keep high hopes in life anymore since I have lost a lot of things in this journey.

"Good morning to you too , but why thank you?"

"Oh! Yes, actually thank you for yesterday. You prepared the soup and the medicine for Julia" those words made me want to stab myself . After a whole night of torture and tears he finally finally smiled at me for the first time and that too the reason was Julia. That bitch of a step sister. Who is stealing my husband day by day from me. But who cares if the person who's supposed to actually care does not care about me.

I sometimes think if he ever thinks about me? About my happiness or, I'm just a mere housemate for him? Actually what's funny is that even the housemates are treated better than I am . Also I'm a bit disappointed. Why did he not ask me why was I wearing those hideous sunglasses? Why was I late to wake up this morning? But no, no questions of such were asked by him.

But you know what? I'm not complaining cause this was the first time he actually smiled at me properly.

That's all I've ever wanted. A little bit of genuine recognition from him. Not because of the camera's, not because of the families. Not pretentious.

And so I , Mrs.Y/n Gasly is again LOST!

LOST in His Radiant Smile!

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️

@peachiicherries @crimeshowjunkie @oblomovissad @torossosebs @janeholt3


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