I put some random prompts into an AI generator, and this is what it came up with
Y/N is a first-year university student. But she has one problem- her father is part of the mafia, and she has been plagued with strange dreams about her childhood frie...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
( the story is almost done fam)
You groaned, sitting up from your sleeping position. It was currently 5 AM, and the sun was still below the horizon. The maids bathed you, did your hair and makeup, then slipped you into your dress. They then put you in some accessories. You looked like a princess, but you certainly didn't feel the part.
You would be getting married on Mayonnaise Man's property. It would be a small garden wedding, with several mafia families attending. Your father would be the only person you knew who was attending. You stared into the mirror one last time, wistfully. You had always wanted to have BTS at your wedding ceremony. Sadly this was not possible. You were getting married to Jordan, and leaving your old life behind.
It was now 10 AM, and you were ushered to the site of the ceremony in a golf cart. You watched the site fill up with people from the garden shed. Your hope was truly killed.
After another thirty minutes, it was time to walk down the aisle.
Your father grabbed your arm and began to usher you down.
You felt the judgy gazes of the crowd on your back. You saw the devious face of Mayonnaise Man. With every step you took, your heart shattered. Where were your brothers? Where was the one you loved?
You tried to smile, but you couldn't.
Your father stopped at the end of the aisle and turned to you. "You look lovely today." He paused for a moment. "I wish you and Mr. Styles all the best."
He handed you over to Mayonnaise Man. You were glad that the veil obscured your face, because you didn't want anyone to see your facial expressions of disgust. Jordan Styles stood in front of you, smelling like eggs and Axe body spray. His eyes looked happy in a devious way.
"This'll be one of the best moments of your life", he whispered.
You kept tight-lipped, refusing to say anything.
The officiant began to speak, projecting his voice across the garden. Soon, it came time for the most important bit.
"With this ring, I thee wed", Jordan Harry Weaver Styles stated, slipping a gold wedding band onto your finger.
The officiant then turned to you.
"Do you, Y/N Johnson, take Jordan Weaver as your lawfully wedded husband?"
Say yes. Say no. It didn't matter, you were going to marry him either way.
"I do."
The officiant smiled.
"Does anyone have any objections to this marriage? Speak now or forever hold your peace."
Thirty seconds passed on, but there was silence. Smiles were plastered on Jordan and your father's faces, and you resigned yourself to the fact that you would marry Jordan.
