Vicious — 19 (Patreon)

Author's note: iT'S WEDDING TIME! I hope you enjoy it. Things are going to get very very interesting. 

word count: 4K 

 The ceremony was set against the backdrop of the grand manor, its towering presence casting long shadows over the grounds as the night crept in. Y/N stood in one of the smaller, more private gardens—a place she had often retreated to for peace, but tonight it was the site of her initiation, where she would sever ties with the past and bind herself to her future, her new family.

The air was thick with the scent of roses and jasmine, mingling with the coolness of the evening breeze. A small gathering was present: Harry, standing tall with his trusted men—Lex, Charlie, and the rest of the inner circle. Giana, her best friend, was at her side, quiet but supportive. The ceremony was private, intimate, just as it should be, away from the eyes of the world.

Y/N wore a long, deep green dress, symbolizing renewal, her roots, and the passage from one life to another. She looked down at her hands, slightly trembling, trying to center herself. The manor loomed behind her, the place where she had spent so many years battling her demons, and now, on the eve of her wedding, she was ready to give herself to another path, to Harry and his family.

Harry’s eyes were on her, a steady gaze that both comforted and unsettled her. He knew this wasn’t easy for her, but it had to be done. She was marrying into a family where loyalty was everything, and tonight, she would be expected to renounce her ties to her Italian roots, to her father's legacy.

A small table stood in front of her, and on it, a dagger, a family heirloom from Harry's lineage, a candle flickering beside it, casting shadows over the engraved metal. The air seemed to still as the moment approached. Harry stepped forward, his footsteps soft on the grass, and took her hand, his touch warm, grounding her.

"You’re ready for this?" he asked quietly, his voice low but laced with concern.

Y/N met his gaze and nodded. She had to be ready. There was no turning back now.

An elder from Harry’s family stepped forward, holding a small, rolled parchment. It was the official document that outlined the oath she would take, renouncing any claim to her father’s name, his legacy, or the life she had been born into. Her loyalty now belonged to Harry’s world, to the family that had taken her in, protected her, and ultimately demanded this allegiance.

The elder’s voice rang clear and strong, “Y/N, daughter of the Castellano family, tonight you stand before us to declare your loyalty to the house you marry into. You will forsake the blood ties of your past and pledge yourself to the people who stand before you now. In doing so, you accept that your former allegiances, loyalties, and ties are forever severed.”

The words felt like weights in the air, pressing down on her as each syllable sank deeper into her chest. She glanced once more at Giana, who gave her a small, encouraging nod, and then back at Harry, who hadn’t looked away once.

The elder handed her the parchment. “Read your oath.”

Y/N took a deep breath, unrolling the parchment. Her voice wavered at first, but as she spoke, it grew steadier, stronger. “I, Y/N Castellano, hereby renounce my loyalty to the house of Castellano and the bloodlines tied to it. From this night forward, my loyalty, my heart, and my soul belong to the family I marry into. I swear to uphold their values, protect their secrets, and honor the bond forged through this union.”

A moment of silence followed, heavy with finality. The dagger lay before her, gleaming in the moonlight. Tradition dictated that she draw a small drop of blood to seal the oath. She hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached for the blade. But Harry, sensing her hesitation, stepped closer, placing his hand over hers.

“It’s okay” he whispered.

With his reassurance, Y/N made the small cut on her palm, watching as a single drop of blood fell onto the parchment. The act was done. The oath was sealed.

The elder stepped forward once more, his voice solemn. “From this moment forward, you are bound to this family. May your loyalty be unwavering.”

Harry gently took her hand, wrapping it in a soft cloth to stop the bleeding. The ceremony was over, but the weight of it lingered. Y/N had just cut ties with everything she had known, and while she loved Harry, the reality of what she had done settled deep within her.

As they walked back towards the manor, Harry’s hand remained on the small of her back, a constant reassurance. But Y/N couldn’t help but feel the gravity of the night. She was no longer Y/N Castellano. She was becoming something else—someone else.

Y/N couldn’t quite put it into words. It was as if the ties to her past had been severed, and she was floating in uncharted waters. She looked down at her hands, feeling their slight tremble, wondering if this was really what she wanted.

Harry, sensing her unease, stepped closer. His presence was calming, steady, and as he reached for her hand, the warmth of his touch grounded her, if only for a moment.

“I know it feels… heavy, like you’re losing something. But you’re not. You’re gaining more than you’re giving up.” Harry whispered softly, his voice soothing as it broke through the thick silence.

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes searching for something—reassurance, understanding. “I feel like… like something in me has changed, Harry. I’m not sure what it is, but… it’s unsettling.”

Harry nodded, his thumb gently stroking her hand as he led her over to his office. They sat down together, the night’s cool air brushing against them. “I understand. But I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re feeling. But I promise you, I’m here. We’re in this together.”

Her heart squeezed at his words, but there was still a part of her that couldn’t shake the sense of loss. “But what if I’m not ready to let go of everything? My name… my heritage… it’s all I’ve ever known.”

Harry sighed, his gaze softening as he tilted his head to look at her more fully. “You’ll always be a Castellano, no matter what oath you take. That part of you will never disappear. But you’re also going to be my wife. And you own loyalty to this clan”

Y/N’s eyes welled up, emotions threatening to spill over. “I’m scared”.

“I know,” he whispered, pulling her closer. He wouldn’t admit it outloud to her, but he was too. The stakes were too high.

The morning of the wedding dawned softly, the first rays of light creeping through the sheer curtains of Y/N’s room at the manor. She hadn’t slept much the night before, her mind restless with thoughts, worries, and the overwhelming sense that today would change everything. As she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of the day pressed heavily on her chest.

This was it. The day she would become Harry’s wife. A mix of emotions swirled inside her—excitement, fear, uncertainty. She hadn’t anticipated just how deeply she would feel all of this, how the idea of merging their lives completely would shake her to the core. She had always imagined her wedding day as something simpler, maybe even more traditional. But nothing about this had been normal. Not the oath she had taken the night before, not the chaos surrounding their families, and certainly not the way her heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions at once.

She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of the dress hanging in the corner of the room. It was beautiful, but it felt foreign to her, like it belonged to someone else. Y/N sighed, throwing the covers off and getting out of bed. Her feet touched the cold floor, grounding her a little, but the unease didn’t disappear. She had made the choice to go through with this, but now that the moment was here, doubt gnawed at her.

Downstairs, Harry was pacing in his room. The tuxedo jacket hung neatly on the back of a chair, his shirt still unbuttoned as he ran a hand through his tousled hair for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could think about was Y/N, about whether this was what she truly wanted.

He was scared.

It wasn’t the marriage itself that frightened him, but the weight of everything that had come before it. The complications with their families, the lies, the secrets—how could they build something solid when so much of their foundation had been built on shaky ground? Harry loved Y/N. He had known it for a while now, even if he had been too afraid to admit it to himself. But that love came with its own fears.

Would he be enough for her? Could he protect her from the storm that seemed to follow them everywhere? And deep down, there was a part of him that worried she might wake up one day and realize she had made a mistake.

Silas had teased him the day before, trying to convince him not to go through with the wedding, but Harry knew it was more than just cold feet. It was fear of losing Y/N, of losing what they had before it even truly began. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to give her the life she deserved, but he was determined to try. If she still wanted him after everything, then he would do whatever it took to make this work.

His thoughts drifted to the previous night, to the oath Y/N had taken, and the way she had looked afterward—vulnerable, but strong. She had given up so much for him already. He felt a surge of guilt rise in his chest as he thought about all the things he hadn’t told her yet, things he wasn’t sure he could ever fully explain. But this was it. They were in this together now.

Harry stopped pacing and stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize the man looking back at him. It wasn’t just the exhaustion that made him look different. It was the realization that this was the turning point. After today, everything would change.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, her hands gently smoothing the soft silk of her dress. She looked at herself, her reflection staring back with wide eyes and trembling lips. Was this the person she had become? A woman caught between two worlds—her family, her heritage, her loyalty, and now Harry.

Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation she had had with Giana earlier that morning. Giana had asked her the simplest yet most profound question—do you love him? And Y/N hadn’t been able to answer right away. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel something for Harry. She did. But love? Could it truly be love when so much was built around obligation and expectation? Or was she just fooling herself, hoping that what they had could eventually become more?

Her fingers brushed over the fabric of her dress again, but her mind was elsewhere. The memory of Federico’s words haunted her still—how he had tried to sow seeds of doubt, to convince her that Harry was betraying her. But deep down, she knew Federico’s manipulations were about power, about control. Harry was far from perfect, but something told her that his mistakes weren’t born out of malice.

A soft knock on the door pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She turned to see Giana peeking her head inside. “You ready?”

Y/N forced a smile, though her heart raced. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Giana stepped inside, her presence offering some comfort. She had been her rock throughout all of this, and even now, on the brink of the biggest change in her life, Giana managed to steady her.

“You look beautiful,” Giana said, her voice soft.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, her voice barely a whisper.

They stood in silence for a moment before Giana spoke again. “You sure about this? It’s not too late.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her stomach flipping nervously. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be sure, but... it’s what has to be done, right?”

Giana gave her a look, one that said she didn’t completely agree. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded, taking Y/N’s hands in hers. “No matter what happens, I’ve got your back.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight with emotion. This was it. There was no turning back now.

The garden where the wedding ceremony took place was nothing short of breathtaking, a serene, private oasis tucked away behind the towering stone walls of the manor. Y/N had always loved this garden. It had been her place of refuge growing up, the one spot where she could escape her family’s suffocating expectations, the endless whispers of the Castellano name, and the weight of a past she wanted so desperately to leave behind. Today, however, the garden looked different—no longer just a sanctuary but a stage for a pivotal moment in her life.

The rows of seats were lined with cascading white roses, their petals as soft and delicate as the clouds that drifted lazily across the bright blue sky. The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air, mingling with the fresh, earthy smell of the grass beneath their feet. Lanterns hung from the arched trellises that framed the aisle, casting soft golden light over the scene as the sun began to dip lower on the horizon. Strings of lights were woven into the trees, twinkling like stars above them, ready to illuminate the night as it fell. It was intimate, elegant—exactly what Y/N had wanted.

At the front of the altar stood a towering floral arch, a breathtaking arrangement of greenery, white peonies, and blush roses that swirled around it, soft and romantic but with an understated grace. Beneath the arch, Harry waited, his face a mixture of anticipation, nerves, and determination. He tugged at the sleeves of his tailored black suit jacket, the rich velvet fabric catching the light. His hair, tousled in just the right way, framed his face, but it was the look in his eyes that stood out most. He wasn’t just waiting for a ceremony to begin—he was waiting for a transformation, for a moment that would solidify everything between him and Y/N, binding them together in ways he couldn’t fully put into words. The garden was beautiful, yes, but it couldn’t compare to the gravity of what was about to happen. Harry shifted his weight, trying to control the surge of emotions building inside him. The truth was, he hadn’t been able to sleep all night, thinking of what the day would bring, of what marrying Y/N meant not just for him, but for her.

As the guests quietly found their seats, Harry’s gaze swept the crowd and landed on a figure he had hoped wouldn’t come—Federico Castellano. Even dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, Y/N’s father still carried an aura of authority and coldness, his presence a reminder of everything Harry was trying to protect Y/N from. Federico sat near the front, his sharp eyes scanning the decorations, the people, and finally, landing on Harry with a subtle but unmistakable smirk. Federico wasn’t here out of fatherly pride; Harry knew that. He was here to assert some twisted sense of control, to witness his daughter—once so deeply enmeshed in his power—walk away from the family’s legacy and into something new, something that had nothing to do with the Castellano name.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away. He didn’t want Federico here, not at all. He’d fought against the idea, even argued with Y/N about it, but in the end, he had relented. She had insisted. For her, this wasn’t just about making a statement of love; it was about closing a chapter in her life. Having her father there, despite his disapproval, was a silent way of showing him that she had won—that she was her own person now, married to a man she chose, not one arranged by family alliances or business deals. Still, it took everything in Harry to keep his composure. Federico’s presence felt like a shadow creeping into what was supposed to be the brightest day of their lives.

Y/N’s steps echoed softly across the grass as she walked down the aisle. The garden seemed to hush itself in anticipation. Harry’s breath caught in his throat when he saw her. Dressed in an ivory gown that flowed effortlessly around her, Y/N looked every bit the bride he had imagined. But it wasn’t just the dress, the delicate lace detailing that hugged her shoulders, or the soft veil that trailed behind her. It was her expression—the mixture of vulnerability and strength, the quiet determination in her eyes as she looked straight ahead at him.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow down. Their eyes met, and in that instant, nothing else mattered—not Federico, not the weight of their families, not the looming threats that always seemed to follow them. It was just them, as it had always been, as it always would be.

Harry’s heart swelled as Y/N finally reached him. She gave him a small smile, though he could see the tension in her shoulders. He knew her well enough to know that this day carried a weight far beyond the vows they were about to exchange. It was a day of endings and beginnings, of cutting ties with the past while stepping into a future neither of them could fully predict.

As the officiant began the ceremony, Harry’s hand slipped into Y/N’s, squeezing gently. She squeezed back, but he could feel the slight tremble in her fingers. He leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for her to hear, “you look beautiful”

She nodded, exhaling a shaky breath. “Thank you”

The ceremony went on, each word spoken tying them closer together, each vow filled with promises they both hoped they could keep. But it wasn’t the vows that weighed on Y/N’s mind. It was the feeling of her father’s eyes burning into her back, the knowledge that this was more than just a wedding—it was a severing. And somewhere deep inside, she wondered if it was truly over, or if her family’s hold on her would ever really let go.

As the officiant asked for their vows, Harry turned to face her fully, his heart pounding. He wasn’t one for grand declarations. Words had always felt like a barrier, a veil that hid what he truly felt. But now, standing before her, he had to find something, anything, to express what was inside.

He took a slow breath, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him—Federico, the guests, his men. Yet, in this moment, it was just him and Y/N. He caught her gaze, the one place he could always find clarity.

“Y/N,” he began softly, his voice low and rough, “I’ve never been good at... saying things. You know that. But you’ve always seen what I can’t say.” He glanced down for a moment, collecting himself, before looking back up at her. “There’s a lot about me you’ve had to put up with, and probably more you’ll still have to, but... you’ve stayed. You’re here.” His grip on her hand tightened briefly, a small reassurance only she would recognize.

“And it’s not the vows, or this,” he gestured vaguely to the ceremony around them, “that make this real for me. It’s you. Just you”.

His words weren’t elegant, weren’t polished, but there was a rawness in them, something deep and unspoken that only Y/N could grasp. The layers of meaning, hidden beneath his simple sentences, spoke louder than any poetic vow. It was Harry’s way—an unspoken agreement between them.

“I’ll do what I’ve always done,” he added, his voice dropping to an almost-whisper, meant only for her ears. “I’ll be where I need to be, for you. Always.”

The unsaid words hung in the air between them. It wasn’t flowery or romantic in the traditional sense, but Y/N understood exactly what he was saying. That he would fight for her, protect her in ways others couldn’t see. That even in the silence, in the moments where he couldn’t find the words, he would be there.

As the ceremony reached its crescendo, the officiant turned to Y/N, his voice steady and clear. “Y/N, do you take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, from this day forward?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt the weight of the moment, the enormity of what she was committing to, yet her thoughts were anchored by the warmth radiating from Harry's hand holding hers. “I do,” she answered, her voice strong and resolute, infused with the certainty that had blossomed within her despite the chaos surrounding them.

The officiant nodded, a smile crossing his face as he turned to Harry. “And Harry, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, from this day forward?”

Harry’s gaze remained locked on Y/N, the world around them fading away. “I do,” he replied, his voice steady, but laden with unspoken emotion.

With that, the officiant proclaimed, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

A rush of anticipation surged through the air, electrifying the atmosphere as Harry stepped closer to Y/N. Time seemed to slow as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her cheek, the touch both gentle and possessive. His gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips, a mix of reverence and longing.

As he leaned in, Y/N felt her heart race. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment just before their lips met. The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration of a promise fulfilled. But as their connection deepened, it transformed into something more fervent, more passionate—a blending of two souls sealing their vows in a world where nothing else mattered.

The kiss felt like an eternity, a moment suspended in time where the outside world faded into oblivion. It was a declaration, an affirmation of everything they had faced and everything they would face together. As they pulled away, breathless and glowing, Harry’s eyes held a spark of something profound—something Y/N knew would carry them through whatever lay ahead.

The applause of their guests faded into the background as they reveled in their shared bliss. In that instant, under the warm sun and surrounded by blooming flowers, Y/N felt as if they were the only two people in the world. She had made her choice, and with Harry beside her, she knew they could face anything together.