#LUKA WITH MAID DRESS ON PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[143mizi]

Personally I think Luka and Hyuna should switch outfits (ignore the idiot in the middle)

[sssusuki]

Based on that one song by Camilla Cabello - Shameless because the discord made me insane—

Hyuna x Luka (Assassin AU)

Her world was practically crumbling to her feet and Hyuna didn't know what to do. The kingdom was rightfully up in flames over the recent parties and glamorous events held to please the nobles and celebration of the prince's debutante, yet they did this all while their people were starving and dying, only able to voice their words over the anonymous voice that was the internet.

Scrolling through all the threads of people asking for help again and again, her anger bubbled quickly into rage. She had gotten into this kind of work to fix this, and yet she hadn't done anything. Anything. It was annoying, sufferingly so that she couldn't help anybody.

She clicked her phone off. Now was not the time to dwell on what she has and hasn't done, because right now, she is about to bomb one of the very last grand parties held at the palace and hopefully show those stupid nobles right in their faces that their hubris will be the end of them.

Just the idea makes her feel better.

Breathing out and slowing her heart, she stuffs her phone in her breast pocket and fixed her blazer. She was wearing a classic suit and tie, as it seemed that more masculine was in fashion due to the prince's debutante.

Tch, the mere thought of the man makes her blood boil. They were similar in age, and yet, so, so different. Too different.

She fixes the mic in her ear as she brushes through her hair once again, remembers her posture and expression, and begins to walk up the stairs.

The guards don't even check for an ID or invitation she looks so natural in her act. She is a little proud of herself.

The chandeliers are blinding as she is made immediately aware of the loud chattering despite it being almost midnight. All she has to do is mess up the party and she is out of here, repeats in her head like a mantra. She calms down and zones out the loud noises as she focuses on her mission.

She takes a small wineglass from one of the servers and pretends to sip on it as she scouts the area. Heavily guarded, she notes. But not enough that she couldn't get away. They were really getting careless at this point.

Finally, she spots it, a little hallway a bit behind one of the staircases to the second floor. A servant hallway for them to traverse without the nobles getting all pissy that there are commoners breathing their precious air.

She glances around to see if anybody notices her— they do not— and so she takes her chance.

Slipping into the passage, she is quick to find a break room for the servants and use one of the many dresses to disguise herself. It was a simple maid's dress, yet her prosthetic was poking out a little bit which worried her. It was the only recognizable part of her that was usually posted on her wanted posters.

So, she just decided to pull her boots up higher and hope nobody noticed.

Testing the weight on her prosthetic, she is filled with relief when she finds it isn't that painful.

Moving back out and slipping through with the rest of the servants, she seamlessly travels the halls of the palace looking for the throne room. All she has to do is leave the mark of the rebellion and get out. It'll be more than sending a message, it'll give people hope. Something very uncommon nowadays.

Going up a pair of stairs and twisting and turning whichever way. She would've been lost had the map of the castle not been practically engraved into her brain. Finally, she saw another servant hallway. Specifically, the one that headed straight to the throne room.

She slowed down a little bit, the peace settling into her bones. It was eerily, perhaps peacefully quiet. The bright moon casts great shadows in the long halls. Painting otherwise bland painting and statues into something hauntingly gorgeous. She could almost stay here forever. She doesn't.

She hurries into the servant hallway and continues making her way towards the throne room. Two rights, up a few flights of stairs, and then a left turn leads her right to the doorway which leads to the throne room.

She breathes in heavily once more, stopping her continuing breath for a moment to hear anything. She hears nothing. She steps in.

The throne room is even more grand than tales say. Giant pillars of stone waxed and carved to perfection. Carpets and capes more expensive than she ever will be, decorating the floor and walls. The only indication that this was from the modern period instead of the age of Zeus was the occasional indent in the wall to indicate a TV or the giant blaring cameras pointed every which way.

Thankfully, she doesn't have to deal with those cameras. They've been down the moment she got inside the castle thanks to one of her friends in the rebellion. They were pretty well known for their expertise in technology.

Slipping into the throne room after admiring it from inside the safety of the servant quarters, she takes one last moment to look around. The dome-like room had a glass roof, showcasing the gorgeous stars. The giant, imposing throne having the light hit it just right making it look like some seat of light.

She is quick to take out her knife and begin carving into the stone of the throne. First, she slowly begins making the mark of the rebellion. A songbird flying. It may not mean much, but with a modern monarchy so heavily associated with music and harmony, they were surprisingly strict on who was allowed to sing what. So, it was a rebellious signet. Something that couldn't be bound by the laws of this land.

Second, some sort of phrase to catch eyes. She tries to think for a moment, coming up with "The revolution is here" and, "Continue singing" as a few before groaning and hitting her hand against the stone. She has to make something memorable and iconic to the revolution and she can't do even that?

Then she hears a chuckle. She jumps as she feels a chest hit her back and push her back onto the throne.

"Aren't you cute, sweetheart?" The honeyed voice purred in her ear and she recoils.

It's Luka. Prince Luka. The man this whole party was thrown for and he isn't even attending it.

She whips her head around and backs up into the throne, trying to hide her handiwork she has indented upon it, "Why the hell are you here? Shouldn't you be at the party?" She snarls as he laughs.

"Yes, I suppose so.. but I never found any fun in them to begin with," His face momentarily drops to something of anger before going up again to that saccharine smile.

"May I ask what you are doing here?" He teases as she feels her brain cells leaving around this man.

"Same as you, I never found fun in parties," She sticks out her tongue and tries to relax herself against the throne like she does belong here.

"And is that why you're defiling my father's throne?" He inquires, barely stopping a smirk from falling onto his face.

Hyuna visibly gulps as his smile widens, "Uh, yes, exactly," She nervously laughs.

Shit this isn't how it was supposed to go at all. She was expecting him to be caught up in the glitz and glamour of the party, not this!

Suddenly he is all up in her face, caging her on the throne. His hands are above her head and he is practically straddling her on the throne. His blonde hair is inches away from her face and— her face flushes in embarrassment as she pushes him away.

Only to find he grabs her wrist to pull him with her.

Suddenly they are in this weird tango as Hyuna tries her hardest to hide all the weapons on her body and Luka tries to find them.

He twirls her around as she expertly avoids tripping over her feet as he suddenly grabs her by the waist and pulls her in.

"You're surprisingly good at this, what's your name?" He asks, his charming smile now dropped to a more monotone, almost annoyed look.

He keeps his firm grip on her waist as she begins to take the lead in the tango and somehow doesn't tangle their feet as she dips him and twirls him.

Suddenly, she recognizes her body shifts in weight as they switch positions. Suddenly, he is the one guiding her in the smooth steps of the tango as he practically has himself holding onto her thigh.

Eventually, he dips her as she is forced to raise her leg so she can balance and not fall and goodness does it annoy her.

Suddenly, he changes the tempo as he practically slides Hyuna right into his chest and she is forced to put her head onto his chest despite them having close heights. She sighs at her own predicament.

Carrying both of them, Luka guides her with on hand on her waist and another holding her hand as they seem to waltz slowly across the floor.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" He hums in her ear, "Cat got your tongue?" He makes a bold move to slightly nibble on her ear as she stiffens and immediately begins to up the dance into a more hurried waltz.

He simply laughs, something in her heart flutters at it. She is quick to ignore it.

Eventually the two slow to simply swaying from side to side on the dance floor, holding each other tight. If you asked Hyuna why she was embracing the enemy right now she couldn't give you an honest answer.

Inhaling his scent, of roses and heavy perfume, she was surprisingly not disgusted by it. All the while, Luka is humming soft folk songs in her ear. She recognizes one of them from her childhood. A song of a girl bravely encountering a beast near her village and falling in love with it, breaking the cursed spell and turning them back into a human. Some of the words he sang were unfamiliar now, but they were once the language her mother would whisper to her before bedtime and for once, she feels like crying.

Putting her head into the crook of his neck, she can only dig herself deeper in the silky fabric of his shirt as she wets his from her tears.

He seems frozen for a moment, before pulling himself together and slowly wrapping his arms around her tightly. Like if he were to let go everything would fall apart. And she could only think the same.

Blonde hair grazed her eyelashes as she felt the tears slowly melt away. She gasps softly to regain her composure.

"Where did you hear that song?" Hyuna inquires, turning her head from the crook of his neck to face Luka. His face is oddly monotone.

"I believe during a banquet In another kingdom," he reminisces, "I can't remember which, they all blend together."

"Oh," she sighs, "I see," He stops swaying for a moment, "It was the Golden Republic, if memory serves correctly," He tightens his grip on Hyuna, "They were known for their rich culture."

She dips her head back down into his shoulder again. She remembers why she is here again. Not to waltz with some sad prince, but to crumble the very society that benefits from hurting others.

She moves her hands from his hair to his shoulders as she pushes him down onto the ground.

She feels guilty. She doesn't know why. He looks betrayed. She doesn't know why.

Her face flashes with conflicted emotions that she hesitates for a moment, which is more than enough for Luka to pounce and switch the positions as Hyuna is found herself to be frozen underneath the man's monotonous, and if anything, sour gaze.

He is quick to go for her throat and squeeze as she thrashes and throws him off.

"What, too much for you, sweetheart?" His voice now sour, the nickname filled with contempt. Oh lord, she feels guilty. She feels something for him. She can't pin what though.

She is quick to go for a running start to him as they both tackle each other and roll on the ground trying to get the advantage on one another.

Though, she seems to find herself at a disadvantage as her leg squeaks in pain as she shuts her eyes, attempting not to scream. Instead, the pain coming out in a low groan.

Luka stops dead in his tracks. His eyes gazing down to her leg. He is straddling her on the floor with both of his hands pinning hers so she can't hurt him.

He is stronger than he looks.

He exchanges a glance back at Hyuna before focusing on her prosthetic and slowly lifting himself off of it so he is slightly hovering. So not to hurt her.

Her heart squeezes.

"The guards will be hear soon, they heard the commotion from downstairs," He nestles into the crook of her neck and whispers into her ear, "You don't have much time, sweetie."

Her breath catches in her throat as she tries to come up with some sort of escape plan. She cannot move and if she did he'd immediately be right back on her. Unless she could distract him long enough—

Oh. A brilliant, but stupid idea. A very stupid idea.

She focuses back on Luka, his face is so close she can feel his hot breath on her skin. She shuddered.

She stares into his eyes for a moment, and really takes a look at him. He is breathing heavily and his hair is tousled from the fight. His cheeks are beet red and sweat drips from him into the floor or Hyuna. His eyes are slightly glazed over in some sort of haze, she cannot tell what. His eyes are trained on her. He seems lost in thought.

She visibly gulps. Now or never.

Luka gets a bit closer to Hyuna just as she acts out her plan. Her lips connect with those of Luka's. His are surprisingly soft and warm.

He immediately lets out a sigh of relief at the kiss before he recognizes that he loosened his grip on one of her hands and she has a knife to his throat. He tastes of chocolate and grapes. Luxuries Hyuna could never hope to buy just for the fun of it.

Does he want this??

She doesn't much time to think though, as Luka himself digs deeper into the knife, little drops of blood slowly coming out as he kisses her deeper, more passionately. She really isn't prepared for this.

Her mind feels hazy and dream-like as she vaguely recognize him beginning to use tongue in the kiss. His hands are now hugging her close by the waist, and her hands are confused whether to grab for her knife or run her fingers through her hair.

And for just a few moments, she lets the intrusive thoughts win as she drags her nails across his scalp and he groans into her mouth.

She feels bad for doing this. But she must. They are on opposing sides. Any more of this and she'd consider herself conspiring with the enemy.

She flips him over so she is over him as she breaks the kiss. He is clearly upset as his hands immediately go to thread her hair and pull her back down. She has to refuse.

"I can't," her voice is hoarse. She doesn't know why.

"You can," He sounds desperate, angry for the first time she hears him, "Stay with me," He drags his hands through her hair and it takes all her willpower not to drop into him right now.

His eyes are filled in a love struck haze, he can't seem to focus as his eyes are consistently drooping. Perhaps he drank a bit before this? She can't do this. Not now. Not in this time.

"I'm sorry," She whispers, cupping his face as she pecks his nose and then lightly kisses his lips. He is quick to hold her in place for a few seconds before she can hear the familiar match of guards and she is quick to get up and begin to bolt even if her prosthetic hurts like hell.

"The balcony," His voice is hoarse. He is sitting up to watch her leave, "Use it, they won't realize." He gives her a charming smile. His unbuttoned shirt seeming even more frivolous and messy after their little situation. Her face heats up.

Opening the glass doors to the balcony, the cold air hitting her face is a welcome gift after all the heat inside the throne room.

"Hyuna." She turns back to look at him, "You asked for my name right?" She gives him a wiry smile and she swears she can see stars in his eyes.

He repeats her name once and twice, and maybe a fifth or sixth time just for extra measure. Before looking back up at her, "We'll meet again and when we do I'll ask for your hand—" he is quickly to stand up and practically push into her hands a handkerchief with a number etched into it, "And don't worry about the throne, I'll deal with your...catchphrase." He finally stops his mother Henning as he grasps at her hands once more, squeezes and then let's go.

She leaves just as the guards break down the door.

She leaves with a heart conflicted when the other leaves with a heart full.

[nullbutler]

Season 2 but it's only when Alois is around

so I just finished rewatching season 2! I made TO THE SECOND time stamps of every time Alois Trancy appears on screen (as well as a few other notable things, such as when the explicit/violent parts happen, when Luka appears, and a few lines that were worth mentioning). here is your Tumblr Alois Stan Season 2 Survival Guide! While it's not everything (I didn't write down the post-mortem Hannah eyeball scene) it is 95% of the Alois content in that season!

This was using the version currently avaliable on Netflix. if the season has been cropped or altered on other streaming sites, I don't know how helpful this guide will be! sorry about that! Also, while I tried my best to warn potentially triggering subject matter, and I'm pretty sure I got all of it, I am not 100%, so if you're going to rewatch the season, please get in a headspace where you know, there is a small chance you might see something. The worst, however, has been caught

TIMESTAMPS FOR THE CSA

EP#1 CLAWED BUTLER -- 0:00-1:14

EP#8 DIVULGING BUTLER -- 9:06-10:36, 12:36-13.59 18.35-18.46

EP#9 HOLLOW BUTLER -- 16:43-16:57

Episode 5-7 have a lot of Alois scenes, but nothing in relationship to his trauma, so if you want an entirely 'safe' and non-triggering viewing, those are your best bet! Episode 1 is also fine, if you start it directly after the opening

TMESTAMPS FOR OTHER DISCOMFORTS

If I were to try to keep track of all of this, then the list would be extensive and long BUT in regards to Alois in particular, a few scenes did jump out at me as being potentially a little ... weird

EP#1 CLAWED BUTLER --

9:27-9:42 (Druitt says something weird and pervy)

EP#8 DIVULGING BUTLER --

0:00-2:02 (Nothing explicit, but he is naked, bandaged, and the camera is...you know how the camera is. Some weird dialogue too, between him and Hannah and Claude. It's nothing too bad)

3:39-4:31 (The Hannah scene. Some people told me they were uncomfortable with the way he tackled her, even if it was just the camera being a little weird)

(If the triggering stuff really bothers you, just don't want Divulging Butler, that episode was...weird)

LIVE LUKA REACTION

EP#8 DIVULGING BUTLER -- 5:02-9:04

EP#9 HOLLOW BUTLER -- 11:45-13:15

EP#11 CROSSROADS BUTLER -- 14:58-16:25

EP#12 BLACK BUTLER -- 12:05-12:28

ACTUAL TIMESTAMPS

It'll take ages to jot these down, so here are the pictures of the notes I was taking. Every time Alois Trancy was on screen, I took note of it

Uhhh fun fact my therapist called me halfway through and I had to write down a number. That's what that scribbled out thing is. Haha...oh, if only she knew...

ALOIS OUTFITS

Also, as per something @hateweasel said, I decided I had to keep track of what outfits he was wearing throughout the episodes. And I can proudly say the little shorts only show up in episode 1, 2 minutes in episode 5, all of the scenes of him in the present in Episode 8, and all of the scenes of him in Ciel's mind palace in episode 12. So about 20 minutes total. This is out of the approximate 50 minutes of Alois Time in the series, with his other outfits cycling in at the maid dress, the devil costume, his normal outfit but with trousers, and then Ciel's outfit while he's possessing him, and then his clothes as a kid.

Here is a diagram. I made up those numbers. I could have added it second by second, and that was my plan, and I started, but it was really really boring

NOTABLE LINES

Some things I just found funny

EP#1 CLAWED BUTLER - Druitt says 'Among us' at 9:55

EP#5 BEACON BUTLER - Alois licks Ciel at 15:34-15:40. It should be noted he spends like 10 seconds proceeding that playing with Ciel's hair and Ciel DOES NOT pull away from him or even seem that disturbed. Huh.

EP#7 DEATHLY BUTLER - There's these shots as the two butlers fight each other where they show the boys reacting. We get 'live Lois reaction' at 6:12, 6:19, 7:39, 9:01, 10:18,10:38, 11:27

In the same episode, the piss line is at 15:23-15:50

EP#9 HOLLOW BUTLER - Ciel actually says he feels regret after Alois dies. This is at 10:10.

Alois's village is also revealed to be called Arachnophile. Ah.

Alois is dead at 20:39

EP#11 CROSSROADS BUTLER - while possessing the body of Ciel Phantomhive, Alois actually tries to hurt himself. It's kind of painful to watch. This occurs at 6:23-6:59, 11:57-13:07

EP#12 BLACK BUTLER - Alois speaks last at 12:05

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 19: Planning

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Monday morning was hectic. The first thing you did was drive to the wedding boutique Montgomery had texted Phoenix.

You fell in love with a lace fit and flare wedding dress that had a sexy, sheer bodice with a plunging, V neckline that was matched with a daringly low back. Sequined lace appliques added a touch of sparkle throughout the entire gown and an all-over embroidered net is placed underneath for subtle detailing. Lastly, there was delicate tonal beaded trim accents around the waist for the final embellishment.

"Y/N! That's gorgeous!" Phoenix exclaimed excitedly. "And it fits you perfectly!"

"I have to agree with your Maid of Honor," the young bridal attendant chimed in.

You grin happily. "Then it's settled!"

"And for your Maid of Honor?" the young attendant questioned.

You look at Phoenix. "I'm okay with you wearing your Navy dress uniform."

"I'll wear a dress if you want," Phoenix offered.

You turn back to the bridal attendant. "No. We're good. Just this."

"Great. Let's just get you out of that dress and then we'll discuss how you'll pay for it," the attendant said haughtily.

"Excuse me?" You question with a slightly annoyed tone.

"Well, this dress is $6,000. That's not exactly affordable on a Navy salary," the attendant replied snobbily.

"Holy shit," Phoenix said appalled.

Another attendant hurried over, whispered in the young attendant's ear, the girl turned ghostly white, and then walked away.

"My deepest apologies, Doctor Astor. Let's get this off of you and rung up."

You and Phoenix step out of Jake's Ford F-150 back at the ranch late that evening. You were able to find a floral boutique that did a nice arrangement for you, and you also found a place that was able to make a quick cake for you...after some pricing negotiations.

Phoenix grabs your dress, and you grab the shoes out of the truck and you both head to the house.

When you walk in, everyone is in the dining room playing a rowdy game of cards.

"Hey, darlin." Jake acknowledges you with a grin and a wink as he looks up from the deck of cards in his hands. "You find a dress?"

"Yes. How are things on your end?"

"Moms got the food all planned and Coyote and I got a nice outfit for Christian."

"Good. We'll be right back. We're going to put this stuff up."

Jake nods and you and Phoenix head to the bedroom.

"I still can't believe he's doing it. Never thought I'd see the day," Phoenix admits.

"He's not that bad."

"Ha! You've never had to fly with him."

You laugh as you walk into the closet to hang the dress up and hear the pitter patter of little feet.

"Ant Tosh!" Christian exclaims and Phoenix picks him up, tousling his dark hair and kissing him on the cheek.

"What's up little man?"

You step out of the closet.

Christian looks at you. "Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Yake my daddy?" he asks so sincerely that your heart melts.

You take a deep breath and sigh as Jake walks into the bedroom.

"Come here, little man," Jake says as he puts out his arms to Christian and Christian goes to him. "I'm not your real daddy, but I can be your step-daddy if that's what you want?"

Christian claps his hands excitedly. "Yes!"

Jake kisses Christian's cheek. "Okay. Now go find Lindsay and Lukas." He sets Christian on the floor and Christian takes off running out of the bedroom. "We're getting ready to start another card game. You ladies in?"

"Hell, yeah!" Phoenix exclaims and walks out of the bedroom.

You gaze into Jake's green eyes. "Yeah," you respond as your heart fills with more love for this man.

[gothboygerry]

Comic idea: peter comes into the room to talk to elias and elias is like "and WHY arent you in uniform?" And Peter sighs and leaves for a sec then steps back in in a maid dress

[ashdreams2023]

Can I get a Loki x reader, please? It's kind of a Cinderellaish experience. Loki is told to hold the crown he must find a spouse. In order to find someone who he wouldn't completely hate he creates an illusion/disguise and end up falling in love with reader. One day Odin makes Loki decide in front of the whole kingdom. Loki ask her to marry him and she says "As flattering as it is he be pursued by a prince, a very handsome prince at that, I am in love. And if I were ever to break the heart of my beloved I haven't the slightest clue what would happen to my soul."

I feel like the reader would understand but still be shocked when he reveals his true self. Maybe she runs out of the room. Maybe a little angsty but like imagine reader sticking up for Loki if Odin started some stuff. No smut but like kinda super fluffy. If you are up for it at least. I know it's a bit much.

I love him so much!

First of off how COULD YOU USE THAT CUTE ASS GIF MY HEART 😩🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Summary: Loki disguises himself to find a suitable queen to role beside him

"This would be convincing enough, don’t you agree mother?"

Frigga sighed pushing a strand of hair out of his face.

"Just be wise when you pick one my son" Loki nodded, he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t going to marry someone who would use him.

Asgard was huge so he was bound to find someone but for his unfortunate luck the first few options weren’t the best.

Some wanted just to use him for a good time, then leave and others didn’t spare him a glance because he’s in their opinion worth their time.

And Loki was a smart boy, he was disguised as lower class, below average looking citizen.

He was starting to lose hope, then he remembered how his mother asked him to come by one of the dress shops in Asgard.

She just wanted fabric not an actual dress for her maids to sew for her.

When he entered the small shop he was welcomed with the smell of tea,  pomegranate tea to be exact.

He rang the tiny bell at the desk at the front and waited patiently, he heard footsteps coming from upstairs.

Then the door opened, and the most delicate spring flower greeted him.

Your smile was sweet as honey, and you moved so gracefully it made him wonder what a flower as beautiful as you was doing working in such small place.

"Good afternoon sir, how may I help you?" Goodness even your voice sounded heavily.

"Ah yes! I’m here to pick up fabric for the all mother queen frigga" you nodded before disappearing in the back for a few moments then came back.

"Here is what she wanted, I’m very honored to be of service to the all mother"

Oh you definitely be more service to me

After warping up everything he took his chance and asked for your name.

Fortunately enough you did, and it was a name as beautiful as you, matched you perfectly.

"And your name?"

Oh right mine…

"It’s…Luka, just Luka"

"Hmm, nice to meet you Luka"

That day he came back to the palace with dozy eyes and the image of you imprinted in his head.

"I’m guessing someone had finally gotten your interest my son?"

"….she’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen mother, I have to charm her"

Frigga could only chuckle at her son, he seemed vibrant and genuinely excited about you, it was a good sign.

Loki kept going back to your store every time he could escape the palace, eager to see you.

He’ll buy you small but thoughtful gifts, like flowers that were your favorite color or something for your store you needed and if there was something broken he’ll offer to fix it himself.

It’s easy to love Loki, and that you did, he treated you like a princess, and most importantly he always made you laugh.

"You look as lovely as Lilac"

"Flattery won’t get you anywhere Luka"

"Will it now?" He pulled you close, placing a soft peck on your lips.

"You’re very distracting" you giggled.

"You like it"

Honestly at that point loki didn’t care about telling Odin about you, he was just happy being with you.

But everything has a limit to it and Odin had waited enough.

"Son, I have been extremely patient with you but now it time to chose who you want to role with"

Loki looked at his mother and she nodded, so he decided it was now or never.

"I have decided but I need her to come to the palace first"

When you got called in to the palace you genuinely thought you were in some deep trouble.

And your suspicion got worse when you were face to face with the all father and his son.

"That is the one I want father, the one I want to wed"

Stunned was an understatement for you.

"I’m flattered but I’m in love with someone else your majesty" Loki felt his heart skip a beat.

You really loved him, for him.

Loki walked down the stairs to you, shifting from his real self to the familiar face you grew to love.

"Hello Lilac, sorry I was dishonest with you"

You hesitated looking him up and down, you reached your hands and touched his face and hands, it was him, really him.

"So it’s…"

"Loki…just Loki"

Before you could answer to him though Odin slammed his cane on the ground shaking the floors.

"This is nonsense! A commoner girl, my son I expected someone at the least as worthy as lady sif, not some random g-"

"My king I do not intend to be disrespectful but I am no common girl from the down town in Asgard" you stood in front of Loki.

"I’m a worrier and all mother Frigga knowns my father who was a noble man to fought for Asgard and died for it, you have no right to belittle me just because I chose to spend my days now in a small shop doing something I love"

Loki stared back and forth between his parents and you, Odin looked like he was about to end you and Frigga looked…proud of you!

"Loki, if you marry this woman you are officially nothing but the son of laufey the frost giant" now that was the last straw, Loki felt angry.

He grabbed your hand and stormed outside the throne room and straight to his chambers.

He punched his room’s door after he locked it, breathing heavily and looking down at his feet.

You looked at him with eyes filled with hurt and empathy.

"Loki…I’m really so-"

"No!" He stopped you "you didn’t do anything wrong, what he said was just another excuse to not give me the throne" he unclenched his fist and touched your cheek with it.

"He can do whatever he wants but I’ll never submit to his wanting, and most importantly…my lilac" he took your hands into his and kissed your lips.

He went down on his knee and looked up at you with all the love of the world.

"Will you make me the happiest being in the nine realms and marry me?"

And how could you say no to that face.

You fell down to your knees in front of him and kissed him passionately, you smiled against his lips and laughed.

"Yes, yes and a million yes’s my love"

Odin could try and forbid him from the throne but Loki sure as hell wouldn’t let him lay a finger on you.

"I’ll make you happy, I promise"

"You already did."

[apricotgojo]

hi bestie.. 😃

so um , i saw this prompt somewhere and i wanted to send it to my favorite blog ! ( you ) so here it is!!

adrien with a s/o who’s from america ( new york specifically ) and she has a very veronica lodge type past. meaning she’s very proper and rich and silvertounged but very kindhearted and sweet and extremely loyal.

but she has a past where she used to be a bully in new york and bullied people if they didn’t fit in , and was practically the it girl from a movie? does that make sense?

however shes changed , yet one day during a akuma attack , her whole past gets revealed and videos of her being a complete BITCH and it being played off as hot by her classmates gets shown to the entire of paris?

what’s adrien doing? is she going to comfort her or leave her?

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

 I had so much fun writing this, but fair warning that it’s kind of angsty oops! thank u for the request nonetheless <333

Ship: Adrien Agreste X reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Tags: Angst oops

What should you do when your father is out on a business trip?

Throw a party.

And that’s exactly what you did. At least that’s what you used to do back in New York.   It’s something you were known for. Now since you’ve got the chance to start fresh with a new life in Paris you decided to bring an old tradition back with you and invite some friends over from the school you’re attending, and your boyfriend of course.

Adrien Agreste. You had no idea what you did to get such an angel in your life. You’ve been dating him for a few moths now and you could already see yourself becoming a better person around him. You came to Paris with the intention of leaving your past behind, starting new and fresh without the bullshit from your past. This was it. Nothing could fuck this up.

“Hey,let me help you.” You hear your Adrien say while you try to adjust the lights near the DJ stand.

“I got it.” You say and get on your tip toes to hang the last light. “There.” You say, a successful smile on your face.

“You really out did yourself huh?” You feel his arms wrapping around you from the back and you hum.

“Oh please Agreste, this is nothing compared to what I used to do in New York.” You say and turn around, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I hope everyone likes it.” You say, more to yourself than to him.

“Of course they will, Ma belle.” He says and kisses your forehead.

You loved it when he called you nicknames, they just made butterflies burst around your stomach.

His soft hand reaches up to touch your cheek and he caresses it gently. You look into his green eyes which were soft and welcoming. He is so gorgeous.

Your noses touch and you sigh, touching his hand and smiling softly. “I hate to ruin the moment, my love but I have to go make a few minor changes before your friends come.”

He pouts at you. “But everything’s already perfect, can’t we spend some alone time together before everyone comes?”

You shake your head. “I promise you’ll have me all to yourself tonight , Agreste.” You smirk and watch as his cheeks glow red. You quickly kiss his cheek and giggle, walking away to the kitchen to make sure that everything is in place.

It didn’t take long before people started arriving.

“Claudia, start offering the drinks around to people.” You whisper to your maid before going to greet everyone.

A familiar bluenette appears, with an amazed look on her face while she looks around. You grin and walk towards her.  

“Marinette! You look stunning!” You say and give each other a friendly kiss on the cheek. She really did look stunning. You’ve never seen her hair like this before, let down and slightly curled.  She’s wearing a dress which perfectly hugged her body and the colour was gorgeous on her - A deep vermilion shade which complemented her fair skin. 

“Likewise.” She grins and looks at your dress. “Oh my god who are you wearing? This dress is gorgeous.” She gasps, eyes wide while she moved around to see the dress from the back and front.  You knew that she would comment on it, she had an eye for fashion after all.

“My father got this for me as a gift from South Korea. The designer is a family friend of ours.” You smile proudly. You didn’t want to brag about it but in all honesty you loved this dress too much not to show it off. 

You look to her side and see a blue haired boy standing kind of awkwardly next to her. “And you must be…?” You trail off, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Luka, Marinette’s date.” He says nonchalantly and Marinette stops looking at your dress, straightening up with her face glowing red.

“Ah, I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Im-“

“I already know who you are.” He states and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re more than sure you’ve never met this guy before.

Marinette nudges him and you see him stiffen up.

“I mean, it was kind of a big deal when you came to Paris and everyone was talking about you so-“

Marinette sighs and grabs Lukas arm. “We’re going to get a drink, It was nice seeing you! Au revoir !” She says and walks away with Luka. You could hear her cussing at him from where you were standing.

Ah, of course. You knew that everyone was talking about you. The new rich bitch from New York who’s mother is in jail. That’s what everyone saw at first. Maybe they do still see it now. But maybe that’s why you fell for Adrien, because he never judged you in the first place despite all those rumors.

You turn around and see him, talking to Nino. He’s wearing the outfit you picked out for him.  Black shirt slightly unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, tan pants with a black belt around them and black converse.  His hair was messy but it looked so good on him and his cheeks were tinted a little pink, probably because of the few drinks that he’s had already.  Your eyes meet and he smiles at you. Right as he was about to come next to you, you feel someone tap your shoulder.

“Hi, Nadja Chamack. Did you move to paris because your mother is imprisoned for drug trafficking? Was your father denied bail?” The woman rushes to say while shoving a microphone to your face. You stare at her wide eyed. You didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, leave now before I call security, you shouldn’t be up here.” You hear Adrien say sternly while putting a hand on your shoulder.

“But was that the reason you came to Paris or was it because of the video that was spread of you-“

“Security!” Adrien shouts and two body guards grab Nadja and her camera man.

You stand there, dumbfounded as the body guards drag them away, the two cussing and struggling to get out of their grasp.

“Mon ange, are you okay?” Adrien asks, cupping your face with his hands, snapping you out of your thoughts.

 You look at him and clear your throat.

 “I’m fine, I need a drink.” You say and remove his hands from your face and start walking away.

He grabs your hand and looks at you, concern filling your eyes.

“No you’re not okay.” He says, kissing your hand and holding it gently. “What did they mean by video?” He asks.

Your body goes into full fight or flight mode.

“God Adrien! It’s nothing.” You snap at him. “just let it go, I don’t want to deal with this right now.” You remove yourself from his grasp and quickly walk away to the open bar.

You didn’t mean to snap at him but that conversation needed to wait until you two got more serious. You weren’t ready for it.

You grab a glass of champagne and down it, your face contorting because of the after taste.

You were about to get another one until you hear a scream.

“We want to know all your secrets! Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!” A distorted voice says and you drop your glass on the floor when you see a dark purple monstrous figure coming your way.

“Shit.” You cuss and run away from the bar.

Everyone was screaming and trying to rush to the exit but everywhere was closed off with a purple like shield around.

You frantically look around to find a place to hide until you see a familiar blond with cat ears motioning to you.

Chat Noir. Thank god.

You were about to run to him until you started floating in the air, a purple bubble surrounding you.

You screamed and frantically hit it to try to escape but it was no use. 

“I got you now!” You hear the distorted voice say and let out an evil laugh.

You watch your phone float out of your hand and out of the bubble.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

You were fucked.

The bubble that surrounded you explodes and you fell from it, right into the arms of Chat Noir.

“Hey I got you it’s okay” He says smiling at you and for some reason you were slightly comforted by him.

 Your eyes fill with tears and your throat begins to feel like it’s closing.

“She has my phone.” You croak out and your body starts shaking.

You see Ladybug swinging from the roof, throwing her Yo-Yo to try and grasp the villain but it was too late.

A screen appeared out of thin air and a video started playing -  you were in it, in your classroom in your school in New York. You knew exactly what this video was.

Your jaw clenched when it started playing.

“Awh look she’s crying guys.” You say in a condescending tone in the video. The girl, Sarah, was balling her eyes out in front of you while you smirk and stand in front of her, your arms crossed.

“H-How could you!” She sobs out.

“How could I what? Your boyfriend was the one with his hands all over me, I just gave him what he really wanted.” You say and chuckle.

“That’s not true he would never-“

“Cheat?” You cut her off, lean closer to her and put your hands on the desk in front of her. “hate to break it to you honey but he did.” You tell her and she sobs even harder.

“Maybe this will help you put you back in your place.” You say, grabbing her face, making her look at you. “You’re a nobody, a loser and you had the audacity to talk shit behind my back?”

Her lips quiver in fear and she was visibly shaking in the video.

“You think you could ever stand a chance against me? Think again bitch.” You say and let her face go, turning around and arranging your skirt.

“By the way, he’s a really good kisser. Such a shame.” And with that you walk away from her while people wolf whistle at you and mumble things under their breath.

You were still in Chat’s arms, he was looking at the screen, eyes wide and lips parted. It was like he was frozen. Tears were streaming down your face, you couldn’t move.

Everyone around you was mumbling and whispering things.

“She’s such a bitch.”

“I knew the rumors about her were true! She’s horrible!”

“This wasn’t the video I wanted! Where’s the proof where’s the-“ The villain gets cut off by Ladybug grabbing her microphone with the akuma in it and slamming against her knee. A purple butterfly emerges from it and she grabs it with her yoyo, turning it white.

    “Miraculous ladybug!” She chants and the place starts magically getting back to normal.

Chat clears his throat. “I need to go.” He mumbles and removes his hands from you. You nod and stare down at your shoes.

“Thank you for saving me.” You say, forcing yourself to smile.

He didn’t even look at you, he didn’t even say anything as he left.

Did he think you were horrible too?

Oh my god.

Adrien.

 After the villains were taken away everyone left without even saying goodbye to you.

You sat down on the platform near the DJ stand and hugged your knees closer to your chest.

You hear footsteps walk towards you and you look up. His green eyes meet yours but they instantly avert to the side.

“You know, when we first started dating, everyone was telling me about these stupid rumors about you and I never wanted to hear them because I never believed you could be capable of that.” He says, a frown on his lips.  “I never wanted to be so fucking right in my life but I guess I was wrong.”

You were trying so hard not to cry in front of him. You knew that this would happen when he found out, it was like a gut feeling. Adrien Agreste is a good person. He likes to be surrounded by good people and that video just showed that you might not be the good person he really thought you were. Your heart ached.

“I’ve c-changed Adrien.” You stutter in a small voice, scared that you would break down if you spoke too loudly.

“Have you really?” he questions, looking directly at you. He was disappointed in you. “God, why didn’t you tell me this before!” He rubs his face in frustration. You’ve never seen Adrien so worked up like this.

“Because I knew You’d react like this!” You say, louder this time as you get up. “For fucks sake Adrien! I told you my past wasn’t perfect and I know I was a bitch but I was young and stupid and I know it doesn’t excuse my actions but I’ve grown from my mistakes. I came to Paris with the mindset of becoming better, finding out who I really am and starting fresh!”

You watch him part his lips to say something but You cut him off.

“Look me right in the eye and tell me you’ve never done a mistake in your life, Adrien.”

His lips close and he averts his gaze away from you again.

  “I know I should’ve told you sooner but I was too scared of losing you. Y-you made Paris feel like my home, you’re the reason why I make better choices, you helped me find myself.” Tears start falling down your cheeks and you look down. “And if I haven’t changed then I wouldn’t be looking stupid and crying over you and explaining myself to you because im genuinely terrified at the thought of losing the first person in my life who I’ve genuinely fallen in love with.” You sob out.

There was silence, apart from the sniffles and sobs coming from you.

“What did you say?” Adrien asks you and you hear his footsteps come closer.

“What?” You sniffle, looking up at him, furrowing your eyebrows. Your eyes were puffy and red and so was your nose. You haven’t cried like this in ages.

“The last part.”

“I’ve genuinely fallen in love with you? “ You mumble and widen your eyes. Oh shit, you’ve fucked up again.

“I know it’s sudden and I don’t expect you to return it back and I don’t know why I just said that but-“ He cuts you off with his lips smashing against yours.

It was euphoric. Probably the most genuine kiss you’ve ever felt in your life.

He breaks away, your foreheads touching and both of you breathless.

His pretty pink lips curl into a small smile and his face cups yours, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I love you too.” He whispers and kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry I overreacted, I just didn’t want to be wrong about you but I believe that you’ve changed, I know you’re heart is pure.”

And that’s when you realized that yes, your heart was pure again. Clean from all the sins you’ve did in the past. You didn’t know if it was his green eyes, soft skin, perfect lips or maybe the way he looked at you that has cleansed you but maybe it took pure love to find a pure heart.

[capesandshapes]

All You Had to Do Was Stay (Post Reveal/ Pre Relationship) (3/4)

Summary:

Three years ago, Marinette revealed her identity to him. Three years ago, he promised to wait in a hotel room for her. Three years ago, she opened the door to find it empty.

Now she's expected to play nice with him, since she's the maid of honor and he's unfortunately the best man. But old habits die hard, and old feelings die harder.

"This is a wedding, not a death march, Marinette."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was going well.

Or, at least as well as a combination Bachelor and Bachelorette party planned entirely via awkward emails could go.

Which could be attributed solely to her and her thousands of schedules and planners, along with the fact that she checked the weather almost religiously and the tide predictions. Adrien just bankrolled most of the thing, which worked well enough seeing as he was the head of a multi-billion-dollar fashion house and she was an up-and-coming designer with an Etsy shop focusing on affordable fashion for normal people. Sure, he insisted on a few things, such as not using the Couffaine’s houseboat (He’d actually tried to argue against a boat entirely) or serving shots with Kim and Alix finally reuniting at this party—But most of it could be attributed to her.

She was pretty sure that was him trying to please her, to play nice after that disastrous night outside the bakery. He was avoiding her as much as possible, and any time he was faced with her he resolved the tension by agreeing to her as much as possible.

He was capable of learning, she supposed.

Marinette stood to the side of the bar as the boat they road on bobbed upwards and downwards, a hand braced on the counter and a glass of water that had she poured into a wineglass in the other. She hadn’t admitted to anyone, but she had a habit of getting seasick. The dim lighting of the fairy lights twinkling overhead combined with the loud pounding of music did a good job of hiding that.

She gave a small, weak smile as she looked out to her friends on the dance floor, some of them being people who she hadn’t seen for far longer than Adrien. Kim and Alix were locked in an exaggerated slow dance that had the two cackling, Juleka and Rose had stolen away to a corner, and Sabrina was excitedly explaining her business as a personal assistant to anyone who would listen. It’d been a long time since she’d seen them all, and it made her sentimental. She rarely saw anyone outside of Alya and Nino now.

“Makes you nostalgic, huh?” A deep, familiar voice asked her, obviously having slid in beside her at the bar at some point.

The side of her mouth tugged harder, and that nauseous feeling in her stomach momentarily left her. She let her blue eyes drift over, practically beaming as she took him in. “Luka Couffaine,” she said. A part of her wondered if he would come.

His long, shaggy blue hair and sharp eyes were now the highlight of the evening. Or almost the highlight. “Marinette,” he said, “fancy meeting you here.”

“Oh yes,” Marinette agreed, “it’s shocking for the maid of honor to be at the Bachelorette party.”

“Well, when she’s got a problem with the best man,” Luka began.

Marinette shot him a look. “Be quiet, someone could hear you.”

“I think everyone would have to be blind not to know,” Luka said, leaning against the bar beside her. She knew where he was looking, who he was watching. Yet, despite that, he said, “a part of me always hoped it would be us out there. Doing all of this.”

Her smile fell. “But you’re happy now?”

“Immensely,” he confirmed, and one look at his face reaffirmed that. He was still watching, still taking it all in. If her eyes traveled to the same place, she could do it too. She could look at Adrien Agreste and wonder how everything got so utterly awful. “I knew it wouldn’t be us, Marinette. We weren’t those type of people.”

“The type of people to get married?”

“The type of people to fit together without any gaps,” he explained. “No room for concern, no regrets.”

She sighed. There was more to it, of course. There was so much more to everything, like the fact that she could never do it, never give herself completely to Luka. She was always waiting, lingering in hallways at the slightest flash of the right shade of blond, and hearing familiar laughter in the silence.

She loved Luka, but she was always wanting. She needed Chat, she needed Adrien, she needed whatever form of him he would give her—

“You still love him, don’t you?” Luka asked. It was a stupid question. She’d seen Adrien six times since he came back, and half of those moments were in passing. Any rational person would say no, only crazy romantics would say yes.

So, she stayed silent.

“I want you to be happy,” Luka said finally, and it was a bucket of cold water poured on her. A reminder of reality, of where she was now, and a rush of that seasickness back to her gut. But when he said it, there was that hint of leftover desire, that underlying subtext that there was a hole in his heart, and it would always be there for her.

And the cold understanding that she never made a groove in her heart for him.

She turned to look at him, only to find him gone.

And with that came sickness.

Awful, churning sickness. A vile wave of nausea that assaulted her stomach. The boat lurched, and with it, so did she.

My god, she was going to die.

Marinette Dupain Cheng, beloved daughter and friend. Died of seasickness because of her own poor choices while planning a party to celebrate her friends’ upcoming wedding.

She threw her head back with another large wave, her eyes watering as she fought the overwhelming urge to die. Lila Rossi was at the party, slithering onto the guest list with a perfectly timed apology to Alya about an awful Instagram post. If Marinette turned any greener she was sure she’d be on Rossi’s snapchat story, paired with a caption questioning why exactly the poor girl was so sick. Another pregnancy rumor.

She grimaced at the thought and nearly fell to her knees as another wave jostled her. Luckily, a hand caught her before she could fall, the warmth of a thick blazer spread across her shoulders and distracted her momentarily.

“And this,” said a voice as she was hauled back onto her feet, “is why I argued against the boat.”

She turned both quickly and unsteadily, catching a mixture of blond and green before, unfortunately, practically falling against it.

She could have done worse.

She could have done much worse.

Such as vomiting on his Burberry jacket or ruining his Chanel shoes.

Adrien’s arms caught her easily, hooking underneath her armpits and hauling her upwards once more. “I’d make a joke about you falling for me, but all things considered… I’d say you’re sick of me.”

Badum tss.

Marinette groaned, resting her forehead against his chest only because it was the main thing keeping the rest of the world from overwhelming her. “Were your jokes always this stupid?”

“Things seem a lot funnier when you’re madly in love,” he said, and she made sure to fire back a glare in response. “That’s good,” he said with an air of authority when she looked at him, “eyes on me, focus on the conversation instead of the waves.”

“Can I have a different conversation partner?” she fired back.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at her as he kept a hand braced on her back, the other braced on her shoulder to keep her upright. “Do you want someone else to know you’re sick?” He asked, “because I guarantee Alya and Nino will hear.”

Ugh.

“We’re going to get you inside,” Adrien decided, evidently having spotted a door back into the cabin.

“And then?” She asked, she didn’t see how that would help.

“And then I’ll stay by you in case it all goes south, and you can play YouTube videos on my phone to distract you for another hour or two until Alya goes looking for you. Then you’ll take some selfies, come back, and we’ll wash, rinse, and repeat.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “I don’t trust you to stay anywhere, Agreste.”

He flinched. “Okay, fair, but… I’m your only option here so,” he tilted his head at her, looking down as he withdrew his hand from her waist only to offer it to her again. “Either you take my hand and we go, or I leave you here at the mercy of the Seine, which seems to be in quite the mood today.”

He had a point.

“Fine,” she said, slapping her hand into his. “I’ll sit next to you, but I will not talk to you. Don’t expect a miraculous turn around.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hope you know that nearly every YouTube recommendation of yours being highlight reels of Ladybug and Chat Noir is not endearing,” Marinette informed Adrien, “it makes you look self-obsessed.”

“It’s not every YouTube recommendation,” Adrien scoffed, moving beside her to point at his screen. “See? Anime.”

“Top ten anime waifus?” Marinette read out, shooting him a look.

“You know that’s not what it says,” he responded, yet she couldn’t help but note the way that he took a second look as if making sure.

They were on the ground in the cabin of the boat, nearest the hallway where the kitchens and bathroom were. Adrien was the one to declare that the safest, a place where she could get water if needed, and if worse came…

“When will this finally pass,” Marinette asked yet again as she let herself fall onto her back, she’d repeated the question with every single video finished, but her impatience continued to grow.

And he repeated the same answer, “in four hours when the boat finally docks and we end up on dry land.”

Four hours.

“You were never good in the water,” he said, “and this is coming from the guy dressed like a cat.”

She glared, slapping his thigh. “When this boat lands, the truce ends.”

His smile faltered at that, and he let himself sink down onto the ground beside her, his eyes trained towards the ceiling.

This had a time limit; all of this had a time limit. Even she had almost forgotten that. Because eventually the wedding would end, eventually there would be no more forced interactions, eventually he would go home. Eventually she would go back to her life and wonder the same damn question.

“Why weren’t you there that night?” There was no gracefulness to how it was presented, it merely clattered from her like a knife falling from a kitchen table. It was heavy and loaded, the kind of question that you swallowed down every time you saw someone, not the type that you lobbed out when you were laying side by side and wishing it had been like this so many other times.

She could feel his eyes on her.

“I…” he began, but whatever he meant to say was a false start. He swallowed the letter and tried again. “I don’t…” Know? Care? Want to talk about this?

Why did she care anymore?

What would it change?

Nothing.

“I was scared,” he said finally.

“Okay,” she said.

And that was that. That should have been that. That should have been her hint, her great sign.

“Why?”

And with that single word he rose to his forearms, looking over at her. He was in her field of vision, where she couldn’t ignore him. A hint of pink graced the edge of his green eyes, but his lips were set in an almost determined look, and she wondered if he would stumble over his words again.

“My father was just arrested for being Hawk Moth, my mother was found in my basement, I lost the only home I ever knew to police investigations, and suddenly guardians were at my door asking for Plagg—all in one day. Choose a reason, Marinette.” It wasn’t vile, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t even cold. She didn’t know how to describe it.

“You disappeared.”

“I couldn’t stand to be in Paris any longer.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“What would I say?!” He replied, his voice loud, far louder than he obviously intended. He flinched as it echoed through the air, and suddenly she was all knives and anger.

“Hello Marinette,” she responded, “or should I say Ladybug, the girl I’ve claimed to be in love with for six years! It’s been great, a fun time and all, but man am I tired—see you in three years without a single message! Good luck wondering if it’s because of you, if you being the girl behind the mask is what changed it all, even though the only difference was one scrap of red fabric!” She glared, sitting up, “Miss. You.”

“You think that’s how it was?” He began, his eyebrows narrowed as he raised from his arms, his eyes staring holes into hers. “I told you…”

“You’d love whoever was behind the mask,” she finished, pushing off of the ground. “But let’s be honest here—Not Lila, not Chloe, and not me. Never me.” She stumbled to her feet, gripping the wall as she finally stood. “I told you who I was, and you were terrified! I saw it, I knew! I should have known why—"

“Because you’re you, because you’re Marinette, because you’re--” he was scrambling to his feet, scrambling to keep her there, scrambling to make some sort of sense.

“Because I’m Marinette?” She repeated, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to hear the mistake. To know that she was right, that this was all some stupid curse put upon her by a universe that would thankfully, in a month’s time, solve the situation.

“That’s not—Jesus Christ, I—”

He didn’t need to say more.

She began to walk away, to risk the treacherous river waves. Anything was better than this, anyone was better than him—

“Because you’re perfect,” he called before she could even begin to walk out that stupid door, and every cell in her body stopped moving. “Because you’re pretty and you’re kind. Because you have a perfect family and everyone loves you, Nino loves you, Alya loves you, I—” He thought better of saying whatever came next there. “Because you were going to be a fashion designer, and the best one anyone’s ever seen. Because you try to be good to everyone you meet. Because at the end of the day you’ll always be good, too good for me, and I’m…”

“You’re,” she was surprised that she asked it, that she could process anything.

And there was a pause, a long, heavy one. One where anything, any combination of words could go wrong.

“Because people would see you walking beside me, and you would still be good, and you would still be kind and you would still be gentle; but they’d see none of that. Because they’d look over and see me. They’d see what my father made and what my father ruined.” Quietly, he confessed, “you would be perfect and none of that would matter, because they’d look over and see Hawkmoth’s son.”

[natbarzal]

Connor McDavid - Until we’re gray and old

this was requested on my Wattpad and I think this fic turned out quite well so I thought I'd post it here too😊it's a little inspired by the songs 'Say you won't let go' by James Arthur and 'Love someone' by Lukas Graham

just wanna say, I don't know how exactly weddings go, so sorry if something doesn't make sense, and also, I of course know that Edmonton is in Alberta, but since Connor is from Ontario, I thought it they'd get married there :)

warnings: none

word count: 2.2k (my longest one here on Tumblr yay😂)

enjoy! 💜

_________________________________________

Y/n's pov:

I stood in front of the full length mirror, taking deep breaths while staring at the beautiful wedding dress I was wearing. Today was the day I was going to marry the love of my life, and no matter how excited I was to finally become Mrs. McDavid, I was also very nervous. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear the door of the room I was in open and close.

"You look very beautiful sweetie. Like a real princess." I turned around to see my mum admiring the dress with a light smile on her lips.

"Mom, I'm so nervous." I told her, my voice slightly shaky. She looked into my eyes before stepping closer to me and taking my hands into hers.

"That's completely normal, my dear. You should see how nervous I was before I married your father - I wasn't very far from running away." she said, laughing at the memory. I laughed too, feeling just a little more relaxed.

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, looking at her curiously.

"I remembered how much I love your father and that there's absolutely no one in the world that I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Connor?" she asked, looking at me with soft eyes and squeezing my hands.

"Yes." I answered without hesitating for a second. "Yes, I am sure. But that's not what I'm nervous about.. what if- what if I fall while walking down the aisle? Or- or I mess up my vow or I drop the ring while slipping it on Connor's hand? Mom what if-" I rambled anxiously, becoming more and more nervous again but my mum cut me off.

"Alright, no more 'what if's, okay? Everything is going to go well." she said and I nodded, closing my eyes and taking another deep breath. That was when we heard light knocks on the door.

"Yes?" my mom called as we both turned to look at the door.

"It's me. Can I come in?" said my dad from the other side of the door.

"Yeah dad, go ahead."

He opened the door and his jaw dropped the moment he saw me. He closed the door behind himself and just looked at me for a moment, being at a loss of words. I let go of my mum's hands and twirled around before stopping and looking at dad.

"So how do I look?" I asked, a nervous smile present on my lips. He looked up from my dress and into my eyes and I saw that his were already filling with tears.

"Beautiful, my darling." he whispered, coming closer. "I can't believe my little princess is getting married. I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday and now? Where did the time go?" he asked and quickly wiped the tears that slipped out of his eyes.

"Please don't cry dad, or I will cry too." I said.

"Give me one last hug as a Y/l/n?" he asked and opened his arms for me. I smiled before stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around his neck, his wrapping around my waist. We hugged tightly for a few moments before I pulled away and looked at mom whose eyes were a little watery now as well. I motioned for her to join us and she did. We all hugged for a little while longer before there was another knock on the door.

"Yes?" I called after pulling away from my parents and straightening out the dress. The door opened and my best friend and maid of honour, Celeste, poked her head into the room.

"Are you ready?" she asked me. I looked over at my parents once again before looking back at her and nodding my head yes.

"I'm ready." I said confidently. My mum came over to me and kissed my cheek, smiling at me before exiting the room. Celeste looked at me and gave me excited thumbs up before turning around and walking out as well. I reached up and pulled my veil over my face. My dad came closer to me and offered me his arm to take, which I did and we walked out of the room together just as 'All of Me' started to play.

Leon and Celeste were the first to walk down the aisle, then my mom, then my little cousins as flower girls and then finally my dad and I.

As we were walking, I smiled at some of the people we passed. It was a small wedding really, just our closest family and friends, around 50 people in total. We didn't need nor want a big wedding, being able to celebrate it with the ones that are closest to us is the most important.

Before I even noticed, we were at the end of the aisle and my eyes were met with Connor's blue ones for the first time today. Connor came closer and stretched out his hand. My dad went to place my hand into Connor's, but not before saying "Take care of her for me, son."

"I will. I promise." Connor said and my dad finally handed my hand to Connor, going to sit down in his chair. Connor helped me up to the altar and then we took our spots opposite from each other. Connor reached to throw my veil over my head, revealing my face. 'You look beautiful' I saw him mouth and blushed before he took my hands and we turned our attention to the priest.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Y/n Y/l/n and Connor McDavid in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife." he said, looking up at the guests.

"Y/n and Connor, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at some time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you, not just the part that seems wrong. In this way, you can survive the times when clouds drift across the face of the sun in your lives, remembering that, just because you may lose sight of it for a moment, does not mean the sun has gone away. And, if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight." he recited. Connor and I were looking at each other the whole time and God bless whoever made waterproof mascara, because I felt my eyes slowly but surely filling with tears. God why do I have to be so emotional. Connor's eyes were a little glassy as well.

"Now it's time for your vows. Connor, you shall start." he said and everyone's looked to Connor. He took a deep breath, indicating he was just as nervous as I was before starting to talk.

"Y/n, I love you so much. When I saw you for the first time in that little café in Edmonton 3 years ago, my exact thoughts were 'Wow, that's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.' You can ask Leon, I told him about you almost immediately." everyone laughed at that a little and looked at Leon who nodded and chuckled at the memory.

"When I came to your table and asked you if I could sit with you and you smiled at me for the first time, I knew I had to get to know you. Then, when you agreed to go out with me, I was over the moon." he said, smiling big at me. I smiled back and carefully wiped the tear that threatened to slip from the corner of my eye.

"Then we went on our first date, and then on many more dates, and every single one was amazing. By the time you agreed to be my girlfriend, I was already madly in love with you. And with every passing second that we spend together, you make me fall for you more and more.

When you agreed to marry me, I felt like the luckiest guy in the whole world. There are days when I wake up and I pinch myself to assure myself that I'm not dreaming when I see you sleeping beside me.

You're perfect for me. You're everything I could ever want in a girl and more and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, trying to make you as happy as you make me. " he finished, looking at me with so much love. I smiled back at him, a wiping away the few tears that slipped down my cheeks before clearing my throat and starting my own vow.

"I love you too Connor. I remember when I came home after you asked me on that date, I was jumping around in excitement for at least 5 minutes, that's how happy I was." I said and everyone laughed a little again.

"When we started going on dates and everything went so well and then when you asked me to be your girlfriend.. I almost couldn't believe it. I never thought I'd have someone this interested in me.

I honestly thought I would never find 'the one' till I found you. You changed my life so much and I'm so grateful for that. You make me the happiest person in the world. Even on the worst days, the ones where everything goes wrong and I just want to give up, you manage to make me smile and thanks to you, I keep going. With you, every single one of my problems goes away. " I said but it was slowly getting harder to keep talking through the tears that were now flowing from my eyes. I saw a few tears slip down Connor's cheeks as well.

"I'm in love with you, more that I thought it would ever be possible for me to be in love with someone. You're my soulmate, my better half, and I want to stay with you until we're gray and old." I finished and and at this point, I think almost everyone here was crying. I reached my hand up to wipe my cheeks before the priest started speaking again.

"Do you, Connor McDavid, choose Y/n Y/l/n to be your partner in life, to support and respect her in her successes and as well her failures, to care for her in sickness and in health, to nurture her, and to grow with her throughout the seasons of your life together?"

"I do." Connor said, looking at me with absolutely no hesitation present in his voice.

"Do you, Y/n Y/l/n, choose Connor McDavid to be your partner in life, to support and respect him in his successes and as well his failures, to care for him in sickness and in health, to nurture him, and to grow with him throughout the seasons of your life together?"

"I do." I answered, looking straight into those beautiful eyes that I fell in love with 3 years ago.

"Now it's time to exchange your rings." the priest said. One of my little cousins, being the ring bearer, ran up to us with the rings on a tray and held them up for us. Connor took mine first and reached for my left hand.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you. Let it be a reminder that I am always by your side and that I will always be a faithful partner to you." he said as he slipped the golden ring on my finger. I smiled and took the other ring off the tray, taking his left hand into mine.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today, our wedding day." I said, slipping the ring onto his finger.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Ontario, Canada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." before the he could even finish the sentence, Connor had his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips were on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with all I had. Everyone started clapping and cheering, but in that moment, everything Connor and I were able to focus on was each other.

Everything was perfect.

I wanna live with you

Even when we're ghosts

'Cause you were always there for me

When I needed you the most

I'm gonna love you 'till

My lungs give out

I promise 'til death we part

Like in our vows

[arthotsglasses]

My Otome Art Masterlist

Here are my otome art! Most recent arts at the top of the list (actively being updated) Personal favs are blolded hehe

Please read guidelines then ask away! 

Ikemen Vampire

Arthur & his little detective

hoodie blanket chibis

Arthur smiling 

Shirtless Arthur in bed

Pouting Arthur

1k follows special Arthur

Comte blushing

Arthur x Theo x Comte BL

Vince & Jean burning kitchen and Seas walk in

Arthur snuggling vic

Arthur x Mc & daughter

Napoleon twerking gif

Arthur playing with orphans

Jean twerking

Mozart’s failed snowman chibi

Theo laying on mc’s lap 

Doctor Arthot Sketch, Colour

MC mocking Arthur w Theo

Ikevam MC character sheet

Arthur, Theo, & MC

Jean & Mc medieval clothes

Doctor & soldier Arthur concept sketch

Comte carrying Arthur

Napoleon

Theo x mc with King

Arthur,Isaac, Dazai, Mc in town

Arthur and Mc napping 

Dazai in pony tail

Arthur x Mc 

Comte x Mc cuddling traditional 

Dazai perching out the window

Arthur’s Birthday 2020

Mozart and Jean 

Isaac Sketch 

Arthur x OC commission 

Ikemen Sengoku

Yukimura commission

Ikemen Sengoku MC character sheet

Shingen x Mc Cinderella

Masamune and Shogetsu

General Sketch 

Kenshin Bunny animation 

Ikemen Revolution 

Ikerev MC character sheet

Kyle & Mc

Ray, MC, Luka

Lancelot, Ray & MC

Dalim 

Dalimxmc 

Ikemen Prince

Clavis route release fanart

Licht stabbing mama >.<

Chev sword fighting on a horse

Chev vs Gilbert sword fight

Ikepri MC character sheet

Diabolik Lovers

Ayato x yui meow meow vampire

Laito eating macaroon

Ayato MB anime style

Young teenage diaboys

Shu, Reji, and Yui sketch

baby Ayato napping under the tree

sleeping sheep Laito

Laito licking candy cane 

Shu smiling:)

Diaboy’s Christmas Dinner

Shu sleeping on teddy bear

Yui phone selfie

Diabois on the plane

Sakamaki pillow fight

Azusa

Subaru holding children

Kino hawwwttt

Dadda Ayato

Female Ruki

Ayato in Korean clothes

Kanato holding Teddy

Ruki Birthday 2022

Tengu? Subaru

Laito winking

Ayato Ballin

Reji & Yui CL hug sketch

Maid Laito

Chuky Ayato

Shu birthday beach

Yui y2k fashion

Child Laito

Gothic Yui

Cordelia

Adult Laito

Kanato commission

Adult Yui

Kanato vent art ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Reji playing the Piano

My Melody Subaru

My Melody Reji

Kanato sleeping on giant Teddy

Chibi Yuma for birthday

My Melody Shin

Kou & Yui sketch

Random Sketch 2.

Kou bb cd prompt 

Morikubo Shin meme sketch 

Random sketch 1. 

Ruki’s Birthday Art 2020

Zero Shin sketch 

Laito Chibi 

Piofiore

Yang body pillow *ORDER HERE NOW*

Orlok modern clothes

Henri x Liliana

Liliana modern clothes

Yang modern clothes

Gilbert x Liliana

Collar x Malice

Kei x mc

Sasazuka in maid dress

Nil Admirari no Tenbin

Rui Sagisawa

Fandoms Mixed

Ayato (Diabolik Lovers) x Oc (maimaiotome) x Yang (Piofiore) Commission

Nokto (Ikepri) & Arthur (Ikevam)

Dante (Piofiore) & Napoleon (Ikevamp) wearing white suit

collar x malice:Takeru, Kei, Hoshino & Piofiore Nicola

[maribatz-2k]

BatBug Kid(s?)

🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇

08/30/2020 Twenty-Two

Day of the wedding and Mari was helping Chloe into her gown with Sabrina, while Louis was in the grooms room with Luka getting ready. Mari dressed into her Maid-of-Honor gown and smiled taking a photo with Chloe and the other Bride-Maids.The chapel bell rang letting them know it was time. Everyone got into position as the doors open and the music began, signalling the beginning. Mari watched just before it was her turn making sure everything stayed in order. She walked down arm in arm with Louis smiling wide and happily toward the groom she stepped to her position beside Sabrina, then watched as the bride walked down the aisle behind her veil with her father.

The ceremony began wonderfully, and it was time for the vows. They were beautiful vows that no one can ever compare. They exchanged the rings as the Priest continued on.

“Does anyone here object to these two coming together on this blessed day?” Louis looked around the church, don’t get him wrong, he wants them to be married and live happily ever after, he just wants something else to happen too. When no one answered and all was quiet, he let out a sad sigh and smiled trying to hide his disappointment. “Then with no further delay, I now pronounce you-”

The church doors slam open revealing a tall gentleman and a small boy dressed in matching suits walking down the aisle. The boy looked stern and moved quickly while the man walked calmly and steady.

“I object to this marriage father.” The man said, Louis smiled greatly and looked to his uncle receiving a wink. “I cannot allow this woman to marry this man.” They stop just short from the bride and groom, with the veil still on they couldn’t see who it really was. 

“Why is this sir?” Luka asked, holding an annoyed look. 

“Because I love her.” A roar of gasps filled the church. “Marinette, please come home. My sons miss you, our sons need to stay together, and I miss you. Please, our home isn’t the same without you, and our sons and I are going crazy.” The man began. 

“He hasn’t slept since you left.” The young boy who looked like Louis says.

“I miss your smile, your laugh when you bake in the kitchen. I miss being able to hold you when we watch the night sky in the gardens. I know when we fight it’s my fault at times, I should have given you an apologize. You left the first time and I was a coward to not have came after you. I won’t make that mistake again. Please Marinette, come home to me and our sons. I’m sorry.” The man said. When the bride didn’t move but to look at Luka, that was all the man needed before he sighed. “I see, I guess it’s for the best.” He turned around and started back down the aisle toward the doors. Luka lifted the veil of his bride revealing a almost crying Chloe, she turned toward a crying Marinette and hugged her. After that she pushed Mari into the aisle and smiled at her. 

“Bruce wait.” Mari’s voice was shaky as she stopped him half way. He turned around finding her in a midnight blue floor length gown littered in stars that sparkled by the light. Her hair was neatly pinned with tendrils of curls surrounding her face as a tear escaped and glistened by the light. “I’m sorry too. I love you and I wouldn’t ever leave you or our boys.”

“You’ll come home?” Bruce said, Damian stared at her confused about something. Mari ran over and hugged the man holding onto him tightly.

“Yes, I will.” She let him go just enough to give him a kiss, earning a loud awe from the crowd around them. She blushed red stepping back then turn toward the bride and groom. “Um...sorry to disturbing the ceremony, please continue.” From there the wedding finished with no further interruptions, Chloe and Luka finally kissed to seal the deal. The reception was no different. Mari and Chloe changed their clothes into a more dance appealing gowns and joined Louis and Luka at the entrance of Le Grand Paris. Bruce meet with them after the initial introductions and the dinner being served, introducing himself properly to the wedded couple. 

“I apologize for disturbing your wedding. I hope I didn’t too much trouble.” Bruce said, holding his hand out to Luka. 

“No worries, I’m glad to see our Marinette is in good hands.” He said giving him a kind smile. 

“So treat her well Bruce, I’ll know where to find you.” Chloe followed with holding the warning in her smile. He returned the smile and walked over away as they left the table to dance. He walked over to Mari sitting in her spot at the table, watching Louis talking to Damian. 

“Hey.” She said noticing him coming toward her. He held out his hand to her.

“Can I have this dance?” She took his hand and followed holding his shoulder lightly.

“You know I was already planning to come home this weekend right?” Bruce stiffened and looked down at her face.

“You were? Last I knew you were suppose to have last weekend. When I heard you were getting married I just assumed...” Bruce stated confusion held in his eyes.

“Yeah, I was suppose to but I couldn’t get Chloe’s wedding dress right and it - wait, what do you mean?” Mari asked. Bruce explained everything that happened ending with her laughing. This confused him even more. She apologized herself and kissed him before anything else could be said. The evening went on the rest of the night as planned. Sending the couple off on their honeymoon. Mari and Louis introduced Damian and Bruce to her parents. Damian wasn’t sure how to handle the big burly man who was bigger in height compared to Jason. Bruce was sort of scared of the little woman who is Mari’s mother. 

The following Sunday they headed home, back to Gotham. The moment Mari stepped into the doors of the Manor all three of the boys tackled her into a hug and wouldn’t let her go. Mari and Louis moved into the manor a week later settling in and enjoying their wonderful new life with their family. Louis had a room set up across from Damian’s. They’re relationship became stronger through saving abused or abandoned animals and Uno strategies, while Damian, Tim, and Mari developed a strong connection as well. Bruce and Mari got married a year later, but that didn’t stop their endless amount of bickering. Regardless, Mari got her happily ever after and she wouldn’t have it any other way.  

The End.

🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇

@fsketchart @moonlightstar64 @dorkus-minimus @toodaloo-kangaroo @amayakans @miraculous786 @crazylittlemunchkin @messymessyml @i-will-be-your-ace @tbehartoo @tazanna-blythe @ertyzeta

[the-fiction-witch]

Submission P1 Lot 666

REAL LIFE: SUBMISSION SERIES COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: FLIRTY + SCARY

I stood carrying the tray of drinks around the busy room, My collar tight to my neck keeping me within the area I was assigned. The constant stream of comments didn't bother me anymore, the slaps and pinches of my arse never bother me either, not like I have much of a choice anymore I couldn't even fix my dress where people had been tugging it up all night, I went to the next table offering the men there drinks and some did take them, as I tried to ignore the speakers,

"Lot 651 Now selling for 37.

Up next Lot 652 a new addition to the catalogue perfect for those looking for younger" He explained, I glanced to the stage seeing poor little Mila, she was only just thirteen today. Her first auction. "Lot 652 now selling for 49." he said, I feared for her, but there was little I or anyone else could do to help her. I just prayed the buyer wanted a maid, I continued with my work going from table to table I went to one where only two men sat, one instantly shooed me away the other's eyes lingered on me

"What's her number?" He asked the man beside him

"666. Why? Want her?"

"Let's just... see what she makes"

"She'll go cheap." He smirked so I continued with my work keeping an eye on the girls, and the prices on the screen until those haunting words came up

"Lot 666. She's been working the room tonight so I'm sure you've all seen her. One of our... bigger girls. I'll open the floor" he says I tried to continue my work feeling everyone's eyes on me. I wanted to ignore the screen, "Lot 666. Unsold" He says I froze but tried with all my might to hide my smile finishing up my work,

"I told you" I heard that voice again "You still want her, go and talk to them."

"I'll think about it"

I hurried back to the rooms where they were keeping us, full of girls leaning on each other to keep each other up, knowone cried. Knowone saw the point, I put my things down and hurried in finding mila on the floor with the sold tape wrapped around her arm

"Shhhhh, shhhhh its okay, It's okay" I told her holding her close

"Where will they take me?"

"I don't know sweetheart,"

"What will they do with me?"

"I don't know," I told her

"Are you coming?"

"No. I'm staying"

"But... you have to come with us y/n" she begs "Please"

"I can't mila, I'm sorry,"

"Will I be safe? Without you?"

".... I can't promise that Mila"

"Then lie"

"You'll be safe. I know it" I told her kissing her head I stayed with the girls comforting where I could, they would be going to the centre. People go to the centre to be prepared and shipped off to wherever the buyers wanted them, some would come back into the system and be sold again in time. And some... we would never see again. It got late and people began loading girls up onto the two transports, one for the centre and one back to our house. Some men came past the window looking at their purchases, The head of it all Luka stood watching it all chatting with men now the auction was finished. I saw one man come to the window beside Luka, the one from that table. He looked inside and smiled. He must have bought a girl. He was chatting with Luka fixing his dirty blonde hair a little, His dark blue shirt hanging off his skin his black suit pants and jacket tight to him, He smiled more curving his finger to imply to come closer to the window I looked around confused who he meant but knowone moved or was even looking trying to avoid the eyes behind the glass, I put my hand to my chest a bit confused but he nodded I went over standing by the glass and I could just about here them

"Yes sir that is Lot 666" Luka said

"she didn't sell did she?" He asked

"No,"

"Good. I'll take her."

"Her rat-"

"Whatever it is. Charge it."

"Very good sir," Luka said clicking and nodding to one of the security, he came though into the room grabbing my arm wrapping the sold tape around my skin "She'll go to the centre with the rest of the girls, you'll get her to your address in three days"

"Umm... don't bother."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll take her now. Have her in the car I'm going for a drink" He says before he headed off luka nodded to the security and before I could even say goodbye I was dragged away with a few others who where being taken tonight and I was forced into a car and handcuffed to the back seat, waiting.

[eyebeastposts]

The Lardy Luka Timeline

Commission Info 

DA Link

AO3 Link

Patreon Link

WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS: BHM Luka (Steins;Gate)

After sending a message to Luka's mother to eat tons of meat, Okabe finds himself in a new timeline where the once slender Luka has taken a much heftier appearance.

This is a commission for goodandnice on DA: https://www.deviantart.com/goodandnice

  Head shivering with unnatural tremors. A splitting pain going through his cranium. The world a smear of different colors. Wading through these familiar sensations, Okabe found himself sitting on the couch in the future gadget lab. Slumping back to let his lab coat envelop him, he rubbed his forehead in an attempt to make sense of the new timeline he had jumped into. Gradually his fingers slid down to scratch at the stubble around his chin, recalling the events leading to this moment.

  In an effort to combat SERN, their lab needed to procure an IBN 5100 computer to crack their code and gain access to their global monitoring system. To do this, they had reached out to a friend who claimed to have one in his family’s possession. He was more than willing to lend the computer to the lab, but under the condition that he would get to send a single message to his mother in the past. The message was simple: “Eat tons of meat to ensure a strong, healthy baby.” Letting their friend believe that the wayward message would give him a more muscular body, Okabe let him send the text under the assumption that it would do little to nothing to alter the timeline. Considering his lingering headache, Okabe was starting to regret his own ignorance.

  “Super hack!” Okabe announced through the voice of his obnoxious persona, Hououin Kyouma.

  Letting out an annoyed grunt, Daru swiveled his barrel-like body around his chair and tilted up his yellow hat. “It’s ‘hacker’. What do you want now?”

  “Do you recall sending a D-mail earlier today for Luka?”

  Daru scratched his chin. “No haven’t seen him and it’s not like he could sneak by unnoticed.”

  Okabe’s attitude was brought down by his recollection that he was the only one who remembered shifting timelines. “Um, right. Of course.”

  Daru sighed and turned back to his computer. “If you’re that worried about him, why don’t you give him a call? You have his number.”

  “Aha, an excellent idea,” Okabe replied, flourishing his flip phone despite Daru’s insistence on ignoring him. Dialing in the number he held it up to his face only for his bravado to falter upon hearing the voice on the other side of the line.

  “Hello?” asked an unmistakably husky voice.

  “Umm, hello. I’m looking for Luka.”

  “Okabe, don’t you recognize me?”

  “Er, yes. It’s just been a while since we last spoke on the phone. Would you be willing to meet today at the lab?”

  “I’m free, but…”

  “But…?”

  “Would it be alright if we met up at the MayQueen? I’m starving and haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

  Okabe glanced at his watch to see that it was barely past 10am. “Sure, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  “Alright see you then.”

  Hanging up the phone, Okabe stepped towards the door only stop upon hearing a series of heavy footsteps approaching him. Moments later, he felt a familiar hand grasp his shoulder. “I take it you want to come too?”

  “Of course,” Daru said with a smile. “It’s been a while since I last got to see Faris-chan. Besides, you owe me a couple of meals.”

  Okabe shrugged. “Very well. Just try not to order too much. I’d rather not treat a pig.”

  “I make no promises,” Daru replied with a smug smile, leading the way out with Okabe following close behind.

  Walking down several blocks brought the two of them into the heart of Akihabara. Waiting for them there was the unmistakable storefront of the MayQueen Nyan Nyan maid café. Opening up the door to the sound of a pleasant chime, it was only a matter of seconds before the two of them were greeted by a familiar face.

  “Welcome home nya-masters,” Faris said, her pink, twin drill hair bouncing in sync with the fake cat ears perched atop her head.

  “Thank you Faris-chan,” Daru replied, his cherubic smile conveying how he felt about returning to his paradise on Earth. “It always brightens my day when I get to see your face.”

  “Same to you, nya-master,” Faris replied, striking a pose that perfectly showed off her maid outfit. “Right this way. I already have your table made up for you-nya.”

  Walking between customers and employees dressed similarly to Faris, Okabe and Daru made their way to a table in the back. Taking their seats, Okabe scanned over the menus to pick from the plethora of teas and sweets offered. His observations on the increased variety and calorie count of the items in this timeline were put on hold as he noticed a pair of seats opposite of him and Daru.

  “Excuse me, I think you gave us one too many chairs,” Okabe spoke to Faris. “There’s only three of us.”

  Faris tilted her head. “You’re meeting with Luka, right-nya? I’m just making sure he has the right space to be comfortable-nya.”

  “Speaking of,” Daru began, “can you go ahead and give us the usual order? Looks like Luka is running late again.”

  “Coming right up nya-masters,” Faris said, bowing to them before walking away.

  “Take your time. I’m sure with the crowd and heat outside, he’s bound to be-oh, there he is.”

  Okabe turned away from Daru just as he heard another chime of the door. His eyes went wide as he watched the maids at the entrance step aside to greet a customer wedging themselves through the doorway. At first, Okabe didn’t recognize the hefty figure as they barely passed the threshold. However, one glance at the patron’s lavender eyes and feminine face confirmed that it was Luka.

  The glacial speed of Luka’s movements as he waddled towards the table gave plenty of time for Okabe to come to terms with his drastic weight gain. Luka’s standard white kimono and red hakama he wore at the shrine were several sizes larger, but still a tight fit for his body. Each heavy step forward threatened to release Luka’s bulging belly from his clothes, its size leading Okabe to believe that he was over 500 pounds in weight. A cursory glance brought the odd realization that Luka’s sagging moobs outsized any of the maids in the restaurant, their girth on par with a pair of half-inflated beach balls.

  Upon reaching the table, Luka showed why he needed the two chairs as he sat down on his plump rear. Having part of his chunky butt cheeks still hanging off the sides of the chairs didn’t seem to bother him. Shuffling about to make himself comfortable, Luka brushed away a few errant strands of his silky smooth hair from his chubby face. Looking up to Okabe and giving a perfect view of his three chins, he greeted his friends with the small, warm smile he always had back in the original timeline.

  “Hello,” Luka said with a gentle wave of his pudgy hand. “Sorry for taking so long. It takes quite a bit of time to get around town this time of day. Especially when you’re someone my size.”

  “Hey, don’t have to remind me,” Daru commented, his barrel-like body eclipsed twice over by Luka’s blubber. “Already went ahead and ordered your food.”

  “Thank you very much,” Luka said, a polite bow letting parts of his fat rolls rest against the table. “Not just for the food,” he added, turning his attention to Okabe, “but for inviting me here.”

  Okabe shook his head and straightened his posture. “Think nothing of it,” he replied in as dignified a voice he could muster considering the circumstances. “Anything for a fellow lab member. However, I did have an ulterior motive for calling you here today.”

  Luka’s eyes glimmered. “Oh?”

  “I have a few questions to ask you. The first of which: do you recall seeing an old computer in your shrine?” Okabe asked, forcing himself to abstain from the more obvious questions for the time being. “It should be marked with the name, IBN 5100.”

  Luka paused for a moment to drag his sausage-like fingers down his chins. The surprise upon reaching a moment of clarity was immediately shot down as he slumped forward to have his moobs sag lower against his stomach. “I do remember seeing something like that a few years ago, but…but…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but last I saw it was when I was cleaning out a shed at the shrine. Unfortunately, I…ended up slipping and crushing it beneath my…you know. I’m sorry,” he added, clenching his fingers together.

  Okabe let out an exasperated sigh upon realizing he had lost the main reason they had sent Luka’s D-mail. “It’s alright. I’m sure it was just an accident. The lab will find a way to move on without it.”

  “It may have been an accident,” Luka continued, “but it’s still my fault that I destroyed it with my body.”

  “Stop beating yourself up about it,” Daru said. “Sure, there are some disadvantages to being big guys, but there are just as many, if not more, advantages. For instance…”

  Daru smiled and pointed a finger behind Luka to get him to turn around. The despair on Luka’s face was replaced with elation as a group of maids approached the table, each with a platter of sweet treats in hand. Setting down the meager slices of cake and cups of tea in front of Okabe and Daru, the servers got to work setting up the feast of a meal known as Luka’s regular order in this timeline. Everything from frosted cupcakes, ice cream, crepes, and an entire cake were laid out with the utmost care. Thanking the maids for their speedy service, Luka glanced across his variety to dishes. Stopping a lone drop of drool from leaving his lips, he turned back to look at his dining companions.

  “You don’t mind if I…”

  “Go right ahead,” Daru answered, helping to ease Luka’s nerves as he dug his fork into his comparatively small meal.

  Luka turned towards Okabe. “Are you sure this is okay? I know they give me a discount considering who I am, but it’s still a lot to pay for.”

  Okabe looked back and forth between the plethora of expensive looking food and Luka’s expectant face. “Please, go ahead,” Okabe said, encouraging Luka by cutting off a piece of his cake. “Besides, if there’s anything leftover, we can always bring it back to the lab to share with the others.”

  Biting down on his piece of cake, the sweetness that graced Okabe’s tongue was further amplified by the look of elation on Luka’s face. However, his pleased mood only lasted until he watched Luka effortlessly devour a slice in a matter of seconds. Okabe could only watch in sheer awe as the once petite and gentle Luka attacked his sweet feast like a rabid beast. Nothing was left untouched by the overweight young man’s fork, nary a crumb or drop of icing escaping his hungry maw. Despite the gluttonous display, Luka ensured that each bite was met with a pleased hum to convey how grateful he was for Okabe treating him.

  Before the other two had finished their slices of cake, Luka had left a swath of empty plates in the wake of his appetite. Leaning back in his seat, he dabbed at the icing around his face with a napkin. Massaging his taut belly, he once again glanced towards Okabe. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Not really,” Okabe replied, having a hard time believing someone could eat so much so fast. “I’m just in the mood for sweets right now.”

  “You have to at least try it. The frosting is so delectable. Not to mention the richness of the chocolate on the eclairs mixed with the cream makes it absolutely-“

  Luka paused as a loud creak was heard. The sound drew the attention of not only Okabe and Daru, but also from the rest of the patrons in the restaurant. The moment Luka dared to move an inch, the chairs beneath him broke under his weight. Fortunately for him, his fall was cushioned by his blubber. Unfortunately for Faris, she had been standing right behind him with a platter of food.

  Getting up from their chairs, Okabe and Daru approached the mess of blubber and destroyed pastries. The impact further desecrated Luka’s food stained outfit by leaving ample rips for part of his doughy flesh to peek out. Face a bright shade of red from his humiliation, Luka tried in vain to roll himself back to his feet. His efforts merely spread about various icings across his outfit and further sunk Faris between his back flab Combining their strength, Daru and Okabe worked together to help Luka into a standing position and give Faris a chance to free herself.

  “I’m so sorry!” Luka said, giving the deepest bow his obese form would allow towards Faris.

  “It’s alright-nya,” Faris said, keeping herself in character as the other maids helped her up. “I know it wasn’t your fault-nya.”

  “At least let me help you clean up. Where’s the nearest broom and-“

  Luka was once against stopped by a loud noise, this time a loud ripping sound coming from the back of his pants. Upon realizing that everyone in the café could see his butt crack, his eyes began to well up with tears. It was only once Okabe grasped his hand and started pulling him along did he begin to calm down.

  “Come on, the lab isn’t far from here,” Okabe explained as he helped Luka through the crowd of onlookers. “Daru, you handle the bill.”

  “What!?” Daru exclaimed, his tirade of insults thrown at Okabe becoming muted as Okabe and Luka made their way onto the street and headed towards the lab.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “I still don’t quite understand what you’re saying,” Makise Kurisu commented as she flipped about her scarlet red hair. “You’re saying Luka is the way he is because of a D-mail?”

  “It’s true,” Okabe replied, only feeling comfortable breaching the subject with Makise while Luka was busy getting changed upstairs in their lab. “The Luka I know, er, knew from my timeline was as skinny as a twig.”

  Makise put a finger to her chin. “While it isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, I do find it hard to believe that a single message could change a person’s life so drastically.”

  “Well, it did and unfortunately we lost the only reason for doing it in the first place.”

  A sudden buzz had Okabe pull out his phone. He had received a text message asking, “What happened to the IBN 5100?” Turning his head to the side, he saw the bespectacled Moeka standing a few feet away from him with her eyes shifting back and forth between her phone and him.

  “He apparently crushed it while cleaning one day,” he commented, noticing the way Moeka’s shoulders slumped down. “In any case, I think we should acquire his mother’s number again to revert to the original timeline.”

  “Why?” Makise asked, stepping aside as Moeka ran out of the shop.

  “To retrieve the IBN 5100. Plus, it’s obvious from today’s events that Luka’s life isn’t the most ideal with all of that added weight.”

  In response, Makise stepped forward and flicked Okabe on the forehead. “And you’re coming up with conclusion without asking him how he feels, aren’t you?”

  “What possible benefit could there be to being so fat?” Okabe asked, rubbing his forehead.

  “You still shouldn’t make such drastic life changes for someone without their input,” Makise replied. “Now go upstairs and ask him yourself.”

  Okabe opened his mouth to argue but stopped as he recalled the stubborn nature of his lab partner. “Very well,” he said as he climbed the stairs, “but only to prove that I’m right.”

  Reaching the door at the top, Okave gave a swift knock. “Are you done getting changed in there?”

  “Y-yeah,” Luka replied from the other side. “It’s just a little outside my comfort zone.”

  Curiosity overriding what little common sense he had, Okabe pushed open the door. Stepping inside had the unintended effect of sending a shade of deep red over Luka’s chubby cheeks. The blush across Luka’s face was in stark contrast to the bright pink fabric of the Chinese style dress his body was squeezed into. Gold trimming adorned the short sleeves around his blubbery arms and the collar around his thick neck. A bright yellow bow was meticulously placed in the center of his chest to add a bit of flair to his meaty man boobs.

  While the outfit had been created by Mayuri on the off chance she could convince Luka to cosplay in it, she had failed to properly account for his size. Parts of the dress left little to the imagination with the way the fabric showed off the various fat rolls comprising his belly. Another problem came in the way the skirt of the dress was a few inches too short to prevent the underside of Luka’s chunky butt cheeks from peeking out every so often.

  Luka’s flustered expression mixed with his futile attempts to pull the skirt down over his backside stirred something strange in Okabe’s mind. A strange urge made itself known, bringing up sensations he didn’t think someone of Luka’s size, let alone another man, could bring up. Shaking his head to remind himself who Luka was, Okabe closed the door behind him and sat down on the couch. “Calm down,” he said, trying to break some of the tension. “You look fine.”

  “I-if you say so,” Luka said, trying to keep back his anxiety as he crossed his fingers. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m still a little hungry from the café.”

  “I think I had some leftover soup in the fridge.”

  “Thank you,” Luka said, carefully bowing under the threat of further showing off his plump body.

  Watching Luka waddle about to prepare his snack, Okabe sat down on the couch and tried to come up with a way to breach the sensitive topic of Luka’s D-mail. His thought process came to an abrupt halt as he was gently pushed aside by Luka’s hips. Left with only a few inches on the cushions, he turned back to watch Luka dive headfirst into a re-heated bucket of fried chicken.

  “You do realize that those are Mayuri’s, right?” Okabe asked.

  “Oh,” Luka said, pausing with meat still in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think the soup would be enough to fill me up.”

  “It’s fine,” Okabe replied with a hand wave. “I’m sure that once we tell Mayuri that you put on the dress she’ll be more than willing to overlook a misplaced meal.” Mere moments after the words left his lips, he watched as Luka effortlessly cleaned the plate. “How are you able to eat like that?”

  “I’ve always been like this,” Luka replied, brushing crumbs off of his cheeks. “My mother says its because she ate meat non-stop when she was pregnant with me.”

  “Do you resent her for it?” he asked, unable to think of a gentler way to ask.

  Luka paused for a moment. “No. I realize that my body comes with certain problems, but its not all bad. My appetite means I get to enjoy delicious food and I’ve even made some extra money through eating contests.”

  “Is that what you really want though?” Okabe asked.

  “It’s not like I have a say in the matter,” Luka said, heaving himself off the couch. “This is who I am. There’s no way to change it. If I had a say in the matter…I would…like to have a body more equipped to be a better swordfighter.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Luka put his hand against his chest. “I’m not sure. Just something inside of me brings up the idea every once in a while. It’s as if there’s another me who desperately wishes for it to become reality.”

  Hearing Luka’s earnest words, Okabe stood up and struck a pose. “What if I told you that I, the great Houoin Kyoma, had the power to do such a thing.”

  “Really?” Luka asked, his eyes gleaming with hope.

  “Indeed, just say the word and promise that you will follow my directions to the letter.”

  Luka paused for a moment, looking back and forth between his own body and Okabe. “Alright, I’ll do it. What do you need me to do?”

  Okabe smiled. “To start, I’m going to have to ask you for an old phone number. Specifically, your mother’s.”

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Thirty-Six

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...to give up control.

“I mean…I get why they chose them, but orange and green aren’t very good wedding colours,” Marinette sighed heavily as she flipped through the wedding planner at her desk.

“I don’t see how orange and green is any different from us picking pink and black,” Adrien hummed as he paced the room, bouncing two-month-old Hugo. “Isn’t the point of wedding colours that they mean something to the couple getting married? Rose and Juleka did pink and purple, Ivan and Mylène chose black and rainbow pastels, and Luka and Xavier-Yves picked purple and blue. I think green and orange make sense for Alya and Nino.”

“Still,” Marinette sighed again. “I’m having trouble finding chair covers and table runners in the right shades. Bridesmaids dresses are going to be difficult to coordinate, I have no idea what colour shoes to tell everyone to wear, and don’t even get me started on the groomsmen’s tuxes.”

Adrien winced, seeing that his wife was at it again, entering super-planner mode. “My Ladylove, I think you need to relax a bit,” he coaxed, coming over to put a hand on her shoulder. “They just got officially engaged three weeks ago, and the wedding date isn’t even set yet. There will be plenty of time to sweat the details.”

Marinette turned to glare at her husband. “Adrien, our best friends are finally getting married. This is a big. Deal. Alya’s trusting me as maid of honor, and everything. Has to be. Perfect,” she stressed, punctuating her words so that he would grasp the magnitude of the duty placed upon her.

“And it will be,” he cooed, beginning to rub her tense shoulders as best as he could one-handed. “But you’re stressing yourself out over a wedding that’s probably still a year or more away. Besides, I got the impression that Nino and Alya just kind of wanted to get married on a beach somewhere, barefoot and in bathing suits. Didn’t Alya say something about the reception being picnic food and coolers full of beer so people could dance and get drunk under the stars or something?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “She was joking. Trust me, Adrien. Over the years of our friendship, Alya and I have often discussed wedding plans in excruciating detail. I’ve already got several possible wedding dress designs for her. I know what I’m talking about.”

Adrien pursed his lips, thinking that Alya hadn’t sounded like she was joking but not wanting to upset his already tense wife. “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought that you didn’t. I’m sure you do. It’s just…I think it’s a little early to be planning in as much detail as you are. Maybe this is one of those times where you don’t have to have everything under control right this second?” he suggested, trying to be helpful

Marinette rose to her feet, fists balled. “Are you saying that I’m a control freak?” she snarled, hair bristling.

Hugo, who had been contentedly dozing in his father’s arms, stirred at his mother’s terse hiss and began to whimper.

“Shh,” Adrien cooed, bouncing his son, trying to calm him. “It’s okay.”

He looked up at Marinette, assuring, “No. That’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry it came across that way. Let me go put Gogo down to sleep, and, then, maybe can we talk?”

She crossed her arms and blew out a long sigh. “Fine.”

 When Adrien came back some fifteen minutes later, Marinette was lounging on their bed, flipping through their wedding photo album.

“Hey,” he called softly, sinking down onto the bed beside her and reaching out for her hand.

She took his and gave it a squeeze. “Hey,” she answered in a mumble. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay.” He easily shrugged it off, glad that she was no longer angry with him. “I know you can be a little short when you’re stressing, and I didn’t phrase what I was trying to say right. I don’t think you’re a control freak.”

“Some people do,” Marinette muttered sullenly. “…I overhear people at work.”

He shook his head. “My Love, you are very good at what you do, and you want things done up to your standards. That’s not a bad thing. Are you a little intense at times? Yes, but you produce stupendous results. There’s nothing wrong with making sure you produce quality work.”

She hummed as he pulled her into his arms.

“Seriously, your ability to take chaos, parse all the complex details, and come up with a step-by-step plan to turn it into order and beauty has always astounded me. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. Having a firm command of the situation isn’t a bad thing,” he stressed.

She gave a noncommittal grunt, resting her head on his shoulder.

He sighed, leaning back and pulling her down onto the bed with him. “Marinette, for years Paris only survived because you were always in control of the situation. You always had to be in control, otherwise everyone you loved was doomed. That’s a lot of pressure, but you adapted to it, and now it’s pretty much your survival instinct to always make sure you’re in control. I get that. I one hundred percent understand why you always feel like you need to be in control.”

He gave her forehead a kiss and gently started to pet her hair. “…But things aren’t like that anymore. It’s not life or death all the time. I get that you’re still traumatized from your years as Ladybug, but I think it’s time we started working on identifying some old coping mechanisms that aren’t serving you well anymore in your new reality.”

“You sound like my therapist,” she snickered, snuggling into his hold.

“I mean, I have been in therapy for eight years now,” he chuckled, burying his nose in her hair. “I would hope some of their lingo would have rubbed off.”

Marinette took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right. It does make me really anxious when I don’t feel like I have a handle on things. I’m seriously stressing about reception decorations when I don’t even know the location of the reception yet, so…maybe I need to chillax a bit.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” he seconded. “I realize how important this is, but it’s not going to ruin Nino and Alya’s big day if you can’t find the right shade of orange table runner. You’re going to do an epic job as maid of honor, and the wedding is going to be spectacular, but, for sure, no one is going to die if you don’t figure out the groomsmen’s tux situation right this minute, so maybe we can just keep taking deep breaths and calm down and let it go for now.”

“Yeah,” Marinette murmured, matching her breaths to Adrien’s long, measured inhales. “Maybe that can wait until I have more concrete details to work with…but I just worry that if I don’t get a head start, I’m not going to have enough time to iron everything out, and the wedding won’t be perfect, and Nino and Alya will decide they don’t love each other anymore, and then our children won’t be able to get married because Nino and Alya will get a divorce, and Gogo will hate me because it’s my fault the person he was supposed to marry never got to be born because I ruined Alya and Nino’s wedding.”

Adrien did his very best not to laugh.

Marinette’s negative thought spirals were always so interesting and bizarre, but he knew that she one hundred percent believed the nonsense that was coming out of her mouth in that moment, and he had learned not to make light of her fears.

He pulled back and smiled down lovingly at his wife. “Princess, I don’t think anything could make Alya and Nino stop loving one another. As for Hugo’s future spouse, I think we need to let our two-month-old son make his own life decisions…. Do you want me to distract you?”

“Yes, please,” she replied sheepishly, eagerly arching up into his kiss.

[phykios]

the marble king, part 8 [read on ao3] [rated M for adult situations]

Percy wakes to the feeling of a blonde curl in his mouth, and though the taste is unpleasant, he still smiles.

Spitting it out of his mouth, he turns on his side to better face his wife, and grasps at her, but not before pausing to rub at her glowing belly. "Good morning, my love," he says, voice still rough with sleep.

Softly, serenely, she flutters her eyes open, revealing the stunning stormcloud which he so adores. "Good morning, my husband," Annabeth replies, her returning smile, while small, still bright enough to light up the entire North on its own, the Bifrost distilled in her joy.

Though he has just woken up, he feels a bit restless, but the threat of the freezing air outside of the warm blankets stops him from rising from his bed. Additionally, Annabeth has slung her arm around his side and pulled him close, and he cannot bear to be parted from her. Oh, how he loves the feeling of his wife laying next to him.

The blankets securely wrapped around him, he turns further into her, leaning over and kissing her, long and hard and deep as possible.

"Darling," she murmurs against his lips, "you know I am already with child, yes? You cannot make me pregnant again at the moment."

"Oh, I am aware," he says, caressing the swell of her stomach. "I can imagine a hundred reasons to kiss you," he kisses her lips, "to touch you," he traces the bones of her clavicle, enjoying as she shivers in response, "to make love to you, that have nothing to do with making children."

She giggles, a sweet, chiming bell, a sound which puts him in mind of the carefree girl she was never able to be, but one that he dreamed they have created together.

Out of the warmth, he reaches up his hand, brushing her hair out of her face. Normally covered, as is appropriate of a woman wed, her hair lies wild against her pillow. He strokes the soft locks and imagines their child, their little girl, all blonde curls and brilliance.

"What is on your mind, phykios ?" Anja asks.

"You," he says. "Our child. Our life. How happy I am, and how much I love you, how much I love this."

"Even in the frozen wasteland of Svealand?" she teases, her lips curling.

"Even here," he promises. "Anywhere you are, that is where I wish to be."

However, rather than reward him with another kiss, as is her wont, she frowns. "Do you smell that?"

"It is merely the fire," he comments, though when he casts a glance towards the hearth, he sees that it is cold and empty. How strange; typically one of the servants will come in and make it up each morning before they awake.

He strains his ears, attempting to catch the subtle sounds of the house as it wakes up around them. The floor creaks, the walls shift, and everything feels foggy, as though their bed has somehow sailed out into the morning sea. It all seems so close, closer than it should be, closed off in his own world with Anja.

And what is that blasted scratching?

He awoke with a start, sitting up just in time to see the blaze of the fire going up.

The maid, a woman a few years younger than him with bright, bright hair, jumped as he moved, startled.

She murmured something that he did not quite understand, but recognized as an apology. "It is alright," he said as best he could manage, the syllables of Swedish not fitting so well inside of his mouth. Alejandra had laughed at his accent the other day, but at least she was kind enough to attempt to teach him some of this strange northern tongue so he could not be so abominably rude. Annabeth--Ana Zab--Anja Elisab--whoever--had either been unable or unwilling to spare the time to assist him, and nor had her father. Alejandra was then the only other person in the manor with whom he shared a language.

He had thought it to be a trio of Latin speakers; himself, Lord Magnus' wife Doña Alejandra, and her brother, the similarly named Don Alejandro, who had both studied Latin as youths, and if their Latin failed them, Spanish itself was not so different from Italian that the two could not understand each other when spoken slowly. Percy had been terribly embarrassed that it had taken him near on six weeks in the household to put together the fact that Alejandra and Alejandro were, in fact, the same person, a Norse demigod with shapeshifting powers that could rival even Franko's. As she had explained it to him, at times she lived as a woman, and at others he lived as a man, but still remained the same person within, and Magnus not only knew, but considered it no significant difficulty. For Percy, who had seen a cow with the tail of a fish, this was not so strange.

The maid scurried away, leaving the fire to try its best to warm the frigid room.

It was freezing. It was always freezing here.

Percy, a man of the warm middle sea, was decidedly not pleased by this constant chill.

His room was well appointed, the best guest room in the manor--a Swedish monarch, Kristoffer av Bayern , himself had once slept here, as Fredrik had told him. A servant came in to tend the fire, another came in to clean. It was, short of a god's palace, perhaps the most luxurious place he had ever rested his head. Fredrik and Magnus graciously provided him with warm clothing, finer than anything he'd left behind in Constantinople. Despite the winter, food was plentiful, and he joined the noble family for every meal.

One would argue that, as an honored guest in a noble household, his every comfort seen to, surely that would have made for a happier time than trekking through the Labyrinth, or facing a Cyclops, or holding the sky, no? And yet, he was not sure if he'd ever been more miserable in his life.

He was cold and lonely and cold. He dressed as warmly as he could, in several more layers than anyone else, and still he shivered. Fredrik spoke Greek, but he had much to attend to around the manor, and spent the bulk of his free time reacquainting his daughter with the goings-on and politics of the North.

At least Annabeth was settling in well. It was hard to deny how well she fit the bitter climate. She looked beautiful against the snow and the dark wood, wrapped in fine furs. Her cheeks flushed in the cold, her blonde curls sneaking out below caps and shawls, her pale skin glowing in the warm firelight, all lovely.

She no longer resembled the legendary Theotokos, but she seemed happier than she had been in months.  

Dressed in lovely garments, rich fabrics of green and red and blue, she walked through the halls of her family with her head held high, as though it were her very own palace. She was a noble lady, come home after a long, torturous absence. A princess.

It suited her.

Annabeth would have made a wonderful lady of the house--shoring up the family and all that. The marital politics of aristocrats somewhat escaped him, but it seemed the sort of thing that they would do, marrying your beautiful, intelligent cousin in order to keep your lands and titles more firmly within the family.

He knew that Magnus loved his wife, and that marrying a foreign woman had caused some local controversy, even without the general knowledge of Alejandra's alternate days as Alejandro. She had told him herself, too, that just as Percy and Annabeth had gone on a great many adventures together, so had Magnus and his partner, along that rainbow bridge that Percy could only barely see. But when he saw the cousins together, so alike in their appearance, so clearly happy to be reunited, Percy could not help but wonder if Magnus regretted his marriage at all.

Percy almost felt guilty to think of it, and not only because Alejandra was his only true friend he had here. He would never dream of disrupting their marriage. But he did not know how anyone, presented with the missed opportunity of Annabeth, could not regret his choices.

Lukas had died for that regret.

He wondered what his own regret would be, once he left this place, once he left Annabeth.

Shivering as he left his very comfortable bed, he decided to take one of the rugs with him, keeping it wrapped around him as he got dressed for the day as he did each day, feeling foolish with every layer he added. His daily routines were sparse, spending his days puttering round the manor, alternately avoiding and being avoided by the denizens of the house. He could not even go down to the lake and sit by the water, as it was simply far too cold. At the very least, none of the family had made a move to have him removed; on the contrary, he'd been informed that, in the winter, such a trip could prove to be fatal. But one day Spring would return, and he would not stay in the best guest bedroom of Annabeth's cousin's house forever.

He shuddered again as he stepped into the hall. Malaka , but he hated it here. But Annabeth was here, and he found he did not wish to be anywhere else.

It had been well over two months by now, and Percy at least knew his way to the dining hall, where the mid-day meal was served each day. As he set off, he tried to time his shivers to only when he was alone, when no other member of the household, born and bred in this bitter, bitter cold, could judge the strange foreign man who had, perhaps, outstayed his welcome.

Annabeth and Magnus were already seated at the table when he arrived, and she cast him a smile as he entered and sat down beside her. He nodded, smiling in return, feeling warm from the inside out.

Then the cousins resumed their conversation, which was quite beyond his comprehension.

Frowning, Percy took some salted fish onto his plate, and ate in silence, as he had no other option.

Alejandro arrived a few minutes after Percy, a man today, judging by his clothing and his own statement. At the very least, he had the good manners to speak to Percy over his bread.

"You are of the Eastern rites, yes?" he was saying. "Soon you shall experience a proper Catholic Christmas."

"It is much too early for Christmas, is it not?" Percy asked, frowning. Had he missed the turning of the year already? He had not thought he was so unaware of the passage of time that he had missed December entirely.

Annabeth and Magnus both frowned at them as though they spoke in secret code, as Annabeth's Latin was less than passable, and Magnus' nonexistent. Given that everyone around Percy was constantly speaking a tongue he could not understand, he did not find himself with much sympathy to spare.

"St. Lucy's feast is but three days away," Alejandra said, "and then the Christmas month shall begin."

At Percy's confused expression, he laughed; it was not exactly kind, but Percy had come to learn that the relentless teasing was how Alejandro demonstrated friendship.

He turned to Magnus, perhaps translating for his husband, and Annabeth responded in Swedish, her face contemplative. Then Alejandro said something presumably quite amusing, for they all burst into peals of laughter. Annabeth's laugh was musical, as always, bright and sparkling as a bell.

He wished he knew what the joke had been.

Shoving a slice of bread in his mouth, he prayed that it would hide the disappointment on his face from being cut out again.

"Anja," Alejandro explained, "had mentioned that the last time she had been present for St. Lucy's day, she had dressed up as the saint herself--I then volunteered to assume the role of a small, blonde girl, if no other one could be located in time."

Percy smiled, partly in thanks, but it was not the same. He had no idea what St. Lucy's day was supposed to involve, nor why Annabeth had costumed herself so, nor how it was somehow already time for Christmas--and he was not about to ask his present company.

After the meal, he and Alejandro went down to the manor's stables, as they often did. "You know," he said, as they walked across the frozen ground, "I have a half-brother who is a horse."

"I as well," Percy replied. "Two, actually, I believe."

Small talk for demigods was always something of a unique experience, and this cross-pantheon relation-building was particularly interesting. Loki could also cause earthquakes, as Percy discovered. He was glad he had found a kindred spirit, even all the way up here.

The horses were quite nice, but Percy was distracted somewhat by a group of young stablehands who simultaneously politely ignored them, while hanging on their every word and gesture from around the corners.

"What game do you think they are playing?" asked Percy absently, though whether to the horses or to Alejandro, he was not sure.

"They are watching you, my friend," Alejandro said. "They are all desperate for a glimpse, for a juicy slice of gossip to share with their friends."

Percy made a face. "Whatever for? I am not that interesting."

Laughing, Alejandro clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, you've arrived from far away, and that is plenty interesting on its own. When I arrived with Magnus, I was stared at and gawked over for months, and no one believed I was the heir to a fallen empire."

It took Percy several moments to fully understand the extent of Alejandro's implication.

"Do people truly believe that I have some claim to the throne of Constantinople?" Such a fantasy was--laughable, at very best. "Everyone thinks so?"

"No, not everyone," Alejandro grinned. "I know perfectly well that, son of a god or not, the heir apparent of an empire could not have escaped half as well as you did." Then he paused, looking Percy up and down in a manner that felt not entirely unlike an appraisal. "But merely a minor prince, well..." Alejandro trailed off, raising an eyebrow in question.

Ruthlessly he quashed the bubbling, hysterical laughter that threatened its way up from his stomach. Someone as cunning and well-traveled as Alejandro, someone who'd spent so much time with him, thought him to be a porphyrogenitus? "That's ridiculous," he said, for it was one of the silliest things he had ever heard.

Alejandro's face fell. "No, do not say such things," he complained. "I so wanted to be right. Magnus had insisted you were merely a boring old nobleman, and I would hate to lose the bet."

Percy swallowed, suddenly overcome with anxiety over what Annabeth may have told her family about him. They knew he was a demigod of the Hellenes, of course, but perhaps she had obscured certain facts about his mortal life.

No, not perhaps. Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter, whose family had played host to the king of Sweden in their ancient manor, she could not imply that her traveling companion was only a fisherman turned foot soldier in a failed army. What might that say about her, or her reputation?

"Well, I would hate to cause marital strife by proving anyone correct," he said with a painful smile, holding his tongue. Surely, if Annabeth had chosen not to share such information, she had had a reason, and he would not make her out to be a liar, not to her own family.

Eventually, he was able to get a straight answer regarding the Christmas season. The western Christians celebrated the birth of their god much, much earlier than those in the East, and in the cold, dark winters of Svealand, they had an additional holiday, that of the festival of light, held on December 13th, the Feast of St. Lucy that had been discussed earlier.

Alejandra stood next to her husband, smiling wistfully at the stream of little girls who walked past, garlands and candles on their heads. Percy could imagine, in his mind's eye, a little Annabeth leading the procession, blonde curls and steel eyes, so smart, so determined to seek the life that she wanted for herself. One day, perhaps sooner rather than later, her own daughter might join in the parade--another little blonde girl. A perfect child.

And Percy wanted...

No. No, he would not think on that. Already he was a shameful secret of his hostess. What would she think of him, if she knew that he dreamt of fathering her children? He could not risk her ire; should she order him to leave, he had nowhere else to go.

The lights streamed on past him, and Percy wished desperately for spring.

Christmas proved to be unremarkable, though the illicit Yule, celebrated in highest secrecy by Annabeth's family, was far more intimate. This holiday honored Odin, a godly king of the same rank and power and a little of the same personality as Zeus, but who apparently got on considerably better with Magnus and Alejandra than the lord of Olympus had with any of his mortal nieces and nephews.

He spent very little time with Annabeth these days, save for a few hours on the solstice, where they had sat together in an alcove, out of the way of the rest of the house, and did not discuss the winter council of the gods.

Neither did Percy have much taste for a Saturnalia, after the war.

Then the Epiphany was upon them, and the year had turned anew.

Percy began to spend some serious thought to what he might do when the spring came, as it inevitably would, when he could leave this place without fear of freezing from too long spent out of doors. He hoped by then, he would have learned how to cope with the knowledge that, once he departed, he would never again see Annabeth.

He had never broached the subject of payment for his services to her--he did not wish for a reward, as every moment by her side a gift. Keeping her safe had been an honor, not a chore. Yet he would need at least a little money to book passage on a ship, or to purchase a horse and some supplies. Perhaps he could speed up his departure by performing some manual labor for a local townsperson.

Percy had just begun to muster the courage to bring it up to Alejandra, hoping that she would be able to provide him some direction, when he received a summons, not from Lord Magnus, but from his uncle.

Sir Fredrik had called him to his study to discuss something that evening, and Percy prayed that he did not look too nervous. Perhaps the rumors of his birth had reached the lord of the household, and they wished to discuss the business of transferring a power which Percy did not possess. Or perhaps the truth of the circumstances of his station had finally come out, and Lord Magnus had chosen to send him away from their home. He was not certain which he would have preferred.

“Ah, Percy, come in!” said Fredrik, ushering him into the room. “Do sit down. Something to drink?”

“Oh,” he said, sliding into the chair which had been positioned in front of Fredrik’s desk. “No, thank you.” But the man had already sent along orders with a servant. What bizarre concoction would it be this time, Percy wondered. The soup made from rose flowers? The thin, foul-smelling ale which tasted of rotten bread?

While Percy waited at Fredrik’s leisure, the man in question continued to putter about his office, shuffling papers and muttering to himself in Swedish. He waited for so long, he began to wonder if Fredrik had forgotten him entirely, until a manservant reentered with two steaming mugs of… something. Percy attempted to thank the man as he handed him his drink, only to receive a rather condescending look from the corner of the man’s eye.

Cowed, he sipped his drink, preparing himself for the worst.

Yet--oh, what a pleasant surprise! The drink was hot, but sweet, with a splash of spices and a softness which hid the bitterness of the alcohol that ran through it. The sharp smell reminded him of the trees which surrounded the manor, fruit on a cold winter’s morning.

“Pardon me,” he said, “but what is this beverage?”

“That, my boy, is a cider,” Fredrik replied, settling down at his desk. “I take it you prefer this to ale, yes?”

Indeed. Rather than answer, he took another deep, deep drink, letting it warm him all the way to the tips of his toes.

“Now, then,” said Fredrik. “There are several things I wish to discuss with you.”

Percy straightened. “Yes, sir.”

Tapping his fingers against his desk, he peered at Percy over the rim of his glasses. “Over the past few months I have had the opportunity to observe you and your character, and you seem to me to be a good, upstanding young man. Now, I must be truthful; I recognize that we have perhaps, ahem, sped things up quite a bit more than one usually would in situations such as these, but as time is of the essence, I shall be brief, and speak plainly: would you, Perseus, be amenable,” he asked, “to marrying my daughter?”

Uh.

Oh.

Well.

“I… beg your pardon?”

Nonplussed, Fredrik rearranged several papers. “I have previously discussed it with her, and she has agreed to the proposition. She was quite insistent that we consulted you before any decision was made, of course.”

It seemed that the cold had frozen all of his mental faculties, bringing his thoughts to a grinding, stuttering halt.

Percy had come up against a wide, wide range of peculiar situations in his short life. He had been stared down by gods, monsters, and all manner of supernatural entities, most of which wished him fatal injury. He had been accused of, among other things, stealing the most powerful weapon in history, then a mere four years later, had been offered the gods’ rarest, most precious gift. He had witnessed, firsthand, the passing of an age and the end of the greatest empire known to man.

Absolutely none of it had prepared him for this moment.

“I…” He did not even know where to begin with such a request. “I… think, sir, there may be some confusion.”

“Nonsense,” Fredrik scoffed, reminding Percy eerily of his daughter. “What confusion could there be?”

What confusion? What of the fact that Percy was entirely unfit to be anyone’s husband, let alone Annabeth’s? “I am aware,” he said, slowly, “that some people have… perhaps loftier impressions of myself and my station than what may be accurate. Whatever you may have heard, unfortunately, I carry no blood claim to the Palaiologoi .”

Fredrik blinked, taken aback. “I had not heard such a rumor,” he said. “I do apologize if anyone has treated you strangely due to such misinformation.”

“I carry no claim to any sort of titles at all, truly,” Percy said, pressing the truth of the matter. “I am no prince nor royal bastard, no lord nor duke, but merely a fisherman and a foot soldier of the allagion .”

“And a son of Poseidon,” Fredrik added. “Lords and dukes can only dream of a peerage such as yours, my boy.”

As flattering as that was, Percy felt it was somewhat beyond the point. “What I mean to say, sir, is that there is not much I could offer your daughter by way of marriage.” Naught but his heart, a devotion and passion equal to the power of a thousand suns, but such things were immaterial, and not usually considered in terms of a marriage contract. “I have no titles nor lands, no family--I haven’t even a lira to my name.”

“You need not concern yourself with the finances,” Fredrik said. “Anja herself possesses a considerable dowry--one or two tracts of land granted to her by my late brother which can be cultivated or exchanged as the two of you see fit.”

“I--be that as it may,” he stammered, floundering for some sort of purchase in this odd dream into which he had entered, “it was my understanding that Annabeth did not, precisely, wish to be married.” He kept the “ to me ” quiet, unsaid.

Not only had she certainly not been the greatest devotee of Hera, patroness of marriage, but the only time she had ever brought the topic up in conversation had been in reference to making herself Empress. Why on Earth would she agree to such a contract with Percy?

Fredrik sighed, removing his glasses and placing them on his desk. “How much has Anja spoken of our relationship?”

“Only the broadest strokes,” he said, a trifle embarrassed. He did not wish to divulge the deepest secrets of her unhappy childhood to the man responsible for much of it.

“Tell me, Perseus,” said Fredrik. “Do you have any children yourself?”

“No, sir,” Percy said, unsure of the direction of this conversation. “Not to my knowledge.”

Frowning, thoughtful, Fredrik held Percy in place with his keen eyes, so like his daughter’s. “While I love my sons, I would be remiss if I did not confess my numerous sins regarding the health and well-being of my first child. When the lady Athena gifted me with Anja, I had just returned from my stay at an English monastery, where I had been consulting with several of the monks there. I was a young man, not so much older than yourself, and in a similar financial predicament. My brother did not approve of my scholastic desires, and so provided me with little assistance. My union with Mary was, in part, an attempt to provide Anja with certain things she had never known before: namely, a mother, someone to whom she could turn whilst I was otherwise occupied. Unfortunately, as you well know, that is not how she saw it. And so, in my negligence and ignorance, what I thought was the right choice for her was merely the impetus she finally required in order to make an attempt for freedom.”

Somehow, Percy could not imagine Fredrik as a young man, so weighed down by years and years of regret and sorrow.

“I never imagined I would see her again; my Anja. I had presumed that she was lost to me forever, and then, once word of the defeat of Constantinople had reached us… Well, I had resigned myself to the fact of her death. It was a near inevitability. And then, you presented me with a miracle: Anja returned to me, and with forgiveness in her heart.” Then he smiled, and the years seemed to fade from his face. “I love my daughter, and I swore I would never do anything to lose her goodwill ever again. Unfortunately, as you and I well know, though she certainly would be able to live well and peacefully on her own, it can be rather difficult for an unmarried woman to make a name for herself. It can be done, and it has, but the presence of a husband can grease certain wheels, give her access to social circles in which I know she shall thrive. And there are other things to consider as well.” Shuffling the papers on his desk, he pulled one forth, squinting at it. “My wife has informed me that several young men in Uppsala have expressed their interest in marriage with Anja. The politics are long and tedious, so I shall not bore you with them, but you and I can both agree that she deserves to be more than a bargaining chip in a bloody conflict.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, for what else could he say? Percy would give her the world, if she but asked him to.

“I intend to remove her from the conflict entirely,” Fredrik went on. “And for that, we have agreed, there is no one better suited to the position than you: a friend and ally, and someone who will not press her to do anything which she does not want for herself.”

Even seated, his hackles rose at the thought.

As he fought valiantly to keep hold of his father’s legendary temper, Fredrik must have mistaken his silence for reluctance. “This arrangement is not agreeable to you?” he asked, concerned.

“Oh--no, sir, not at all--it is very agreeable, yes,” he rushed to assure him. How could he possibly explain that the man had just offered him his wildest, most precious dream, wrapped sweetly in a perfect little package? Every inch of him screamed to accept it. “I merely… do not know what to say.”

He wanted to say yes. Oh, how he wanted . He wished to wake up to her hair in his mouth, to her blinding smile in his bed, to take her in his arms and demonstrate the extent of his affection and passion for her. He wished for her every waking moment, every hour and minute of her presence, even if just to bask in the simple fact that he shared it with her. A lifetime with Annabeth, spent in the frozen North of Svealand--a better reward than anything any god had ever offered him.

“I…”

Yet, he faltered.

“If… if possible, sir, I should like to speak to Annabeth before any arrangements are finalized.”

Frowning lightly, Fredrik nodded. “I understand, though I do urge you not to linger too long on this decision. There are more things here at stake than perhaps you or I realize.”

If he had not spent so much of his adolescence as a demigod, he thought, such a vaguely ominous warning would have caused some concern. But it could not bother him now.

“I will speak with her today or tomorrow, sir.” Percy promised, though it was all he could do not to accept his offer right at this moment, to run from this room, find her, and kiss her. “As soon as possible. I merely wish to discuss with her directly regarding her expectations.”

At that, Fredrik grinned a little, humor peeking out from behind his stern exterior. “Good man,” he said. “With that attitude, I am certain you will go far as a husband.”

In something of a daze, Percy wandered his way back to his sleeping quarters, his thoughts racing faster than Apollo’s chariot, turning every word of his conversation with Fredrik over in his mind, digging for any possible double-meanings. And yet, the meaning seemed perfectly clear: Annabeth and her father had discussed her prospects, and had come to the conclusion that marrying Percy was the proper course of action.

In his experience, such a boon never came without a price. It was something Annabeth herself had told him, once upon a time: there was no such offer so duplicitous as a free meal.

When he entered his room, he found the subject of his contemplations waiting on him there. “So,” Annabeth said, keen eyes piercing straight through to the heart of him, “I take it my father spoke with you?”

Wonderful; he did not need to catch her up to the situation at hand. “I did,” he said, an inexplicable irritation surging through him. “Though perhaps ‘ambushed’ may be a better term for it.”

She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

He knew, in his soul, that he should not speak to her like this, that he was more than capable of carrying out such a conversation with logic and reason--but month after month of freezing weather, strange food, and being stared at like an animal cage had taken its toll, and he found his patience had worn a bit thin. “Had I realized you were so keen on marriage,” he said, “I would have endeavored to bring you home sooner. Your father tells me there are several gentlemen all vying for your hand.”

“My step-mother’s doing, no doubt,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Were it my decision, I would not be in this predicament, I assure you.”

As he had suspected. “Well, then I suppose I should be grateful that, if you ever deigned to marry, I would be amongst the preferred candidates.”

Her mouth twisted, no doubt a clever retort just about to trip off the tongue, but, clenching her jaw, she wrangled it in. “I know it is in our nature to quarrel with each other,” she said, “but I would have your cooperation in this. If you agree, we shall be married; if you do not, we shall not. Surely it is within our power to make it so simple?”

There were many, many things he wished to say to her, beginning with how he did not appreciate being put on the spot in that manner, and ending with how marrying her would be the greatest achievement of his lifetime, but, curse of the demigods, his mind raced far ahead of his mouth, and all that came out was a statement only tangentially related. “I am not a farmer,” he blurted.

She raised her brows. “Beg pardon?”

“I--” he rubbed a hand over his face, attempting to pluck the words from the typhoon of his thoughts and feelings, “you know that I am only a foot soldier, yes? A foot soldier and a fisherman. Yes, I can claim the mantle of a hero, but what good does that do beyond the confines of the agoge ? What could I possibly bring to the table? I do not know how to work the land, or manage assets, or--or be a husband.” And therein lay the truth, that he could not be the type of husband she would deserve. He could be a friend, an ally, and a traveling companion, and there their paths would branch off, leading them down two very different destinies.

No matter how fervently he desired otherwise.

Annabeth let out a breath. There was raw, naked pity on her face, as though she had not considered he could feel this way. “You will not have to do any farming yourself,” she said, slowly. “There are people we could hire, help that we could bring in to manage all the things that we have no knowledge of. We could sell the land and use the money for something else entirely. And as for being a husband,” she bit her lip, shaking her head minutely, “you have been the most stalwart, steadfast friend a person could ever have. I imagine that a husband would require much the same qualities.”

That much was true, yes. Percy had experienced for himself two very different kinds of husbands, the ill-tempered and devoted, the creature of harsh words and the man of warmth and comfort, the monster of Percy’s childhood and his mother’s second husband. He thought of Paul, his easy understanding and his willingness to believe the wild yarn his wife had spun for him. To be a man like that, Percy felt that was a task he could manage, yet there were other things Paul had provided his wife… things that Percy did not know if Annabeth wanted from him.

Swallowing, she tilted her chin up. Her eyes were glassy, shining in the candlelight. “I know this must not be what you had envisioned,” she said, speaking slowly as though she were choosing every word after much deliberation, “but there is… of the options provided, there is no one else to whom I would rather be married. I know you would treat me kindly, would be my friend and confidante; what more could any wife wish for?”

Ah. Now he understood.

“Very well.” Percy held out his hand to her. “I formally accept your proposal.”

Percy was her tether to freedom. Presented with the inevitability of marriage, Annabeth had chosen the least undesirable path, a man who would, at the very least, not forcibly tie her to the hearth and home.

Well, if that was the only service he was to provide for her, then provide it he could.

With only a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand, and they shook on it.

***

Several weeks later, they were married.

Percy had volunteered his services as best man to several of his fellow soldiers in Constantinople; it felt very strange to be on the other side of the festivities. Still, the ceremony itself was quite similar to the ones he had witnessed before. Considerably less icons, however. Given how the Eastern Romans had fought tooth and nail for their icons, to be married without them felt nearly like a betrayal, even though he put no stock in such things.

Notice of their wedding had been posted on the church door of the little town nearby, in order to give people time enough to find reasons to object, should there be any. “Sometimes,” Alejandra had explained, “a man or a woman will have a number of wedded partners in a number of different towns; this gives a jilted lover the chance to come forward and name the philanderer publicly. Usually, though, it is to confirm that the two who are to be wedded are not so close in blood.”

Percy cast a thought to his convoluted family tree, and decided not to think on it further.

He had nearly laughed, though, when the priest had asked him if there were any sins he wished to confess before he was wed. His sins against the church were varied and extensive, as were Annabeth’s; in all ways, save the most obvious, one could say that the two of them lived in sin together. He could not truly tell, but he thought he may have seen her suppress a smile out of the corner of his eye.

She looked lovely that day--as she did all on days--but on her wedding day, she had arrived in a royal blue dress that made his heart pound and his palms sweat, nearly the same darkness as the shawl he had gifted her, dark against her pale skin. Her hair had grown much longer since her ill-fated cut, and had been cleaned and maintained by her maid, looking even softer and more golden than it usually did, falling down over her shoulders, a garland placed on her head.

There, in front of the gathered assembly, he vowed to honor, obey, have and hold until death, and slid a ring onto her finger. The priest conferred unto him a kiss of peace, and bade him to do the same to his wife. To Percy’s credit, he restrained himself from pulling her into his arms, and merely placed the absolute chastest of kisses on her lips. After the appropriate amount of time, Annabeth pulled back, her face a pristine mask, and Percy prayed that he had the same amount of composure.

The celebratory feast, unfortunately, would prove to be much more difficult.

Alejandro, merry on spiced wine and in his volunteer function as best man, had corralled the guests into a little wedding game which came from Anglia. The cooks had made enough buns and spice cakes to feed a small army, and, in a fit of insanity, the assembled party decided to stack them on top of each other, creating a sizable tower of buns, nearly as tall as Annabeth. “There we are, lovebirds!” he crowed in Spanish, as he was too inebriated for Latin, slinging his arm around Percy’s neck. “Here are the rules: you must kiss one another over the tower, and if it does not fall, your union will certainly be blessed!”

The crowd, having finished their construction, took up the call, cheering them on, Alejandro physically dragging Percy up out of his seat, and pushing him towards the tower. Magnus was doing much the same to Annabeth, steering her to the other side.

“Alejandro, I--I cannot--”

But whatever excuse he tried to invent was lost over the approving jeers and cheers of their audience. Though he could not understand their words, he knew precisely what was required of him here.

Across the tower, Annabeth was flushed, with drink or embarrassment or cold, he could not tell, but she looked on him with expectant eyes, and he knew she was smart enough to have come to the same conclusion. To refuse to take part in this little game would be foolhardy, at best.

Up close, the tower of baked goods was not nearly so tall as it had seemed, and it was easy for him to lean down without disturbing the construction of food. On her side, Annabeth had closed her eyes, her lips parted, waiting for his to fall on her.

By his count, this was now their third kiss. Perhaps it was to be their last. He would savor it then, he told himself, commit to memory the softness of her lips and the redness of her cheeks, her long, golden eyelashes resting against her skin.

A great, raucous cheer went up from the crowd, and they pulled apart, greeting their audience with bashful smiles.

Percy turned, ready to apologize to Annabeth for all of this. But he held his tongue when he saw the bright smile on her face. He knew her fake and forced smiles, this was not it. She was happy. And he could pretend, at least for a moment, that it was because of him, and not because of the clever situation she’s managed to get herself into.

Eventually, the celebration ended, and they had to retire to bed. Percy had started down the hallway to retire to the guest quarters, until Annabeth had looked at him oddly, and he was suddenly reminded--of course, they were now married. They would be sharing a bed from now on.

The very thought sent a shiver down his spine.

They had shared beds before, hundreds of times. On this journey alone, they had shared the bed of many an inn, simply to save money. For some reason, this time felt different.

Annabeth’s room was not so different to his own; a little larger, perhaps. Fredrik, Magnus, and Alejandro saw them off, Fredrik embracing his daughter and kissing her forehead. He whispered something to her in Swedish, and she nodded into his chest, sweetly. Then he looked at Percy, gave him a solemn nod, and departed.

Now they were alone.

The fire in the hearth had already been lit--and had been for a while, judging by the size and heat of the flame. That must have been why Percy suddenly felt hot beneath all his clothing.

“Well,” he said, wandering to the other side of the bed. The room had no echo; it made it feel smaller, somehow. “I imagine that was not how you had envisioned your wedding, yes?”

She did not respond.

The heat of the room was bordering on suffocating. How odd, since he had only ever known the climate to be perpetually frozen. To alleviate this, he removed the outermost layer of his clothing. “Certainly it is not what I thought mine would be. In truth,” Percy said, filling the silence with his babble, “I had not thought that I would ever marry. Not because I detested the very idea, mind you,” he rushed to confirm, “but, you know how few of us reach the marriageable age in our line of work. It always felt like some sort of far-off dream to me. Yet, here we are! How amusing, yes?”

Still nothing.

He turned to her, then yelped. “Oh, forgive me! I had not realized--”

“It is fine, Percy,” she said, lowly. “We are married now; it is no sin to look at me undressed.”

While he was not looking, she had shed her clothes as well, folding her dress neatly for someone to claim later. Her underclothes were white, made of thick, sturdy material, perfect for cold, winter days.

“Still,” he said. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You have not.” From behind, he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she sighed. “When I thought of my wedding,” she said, after a moment’s silence, “I did not think it would have so many Catholics.”

Percy laughed, a sound startled right out of his chest. “I as well!”

She chortled, too, causing the fabric of her dress to ripple. “If you must know,” then she turned to him, her hands deftly winding her hair into a braid, “I used to dream about being married in the ways of the shieldmaidens.”

Sense memory, he remembered the feel of her stiff, bloody hair in his hands, gently twisting it this way and that. His fingers twitched. “What,” he coughed, “what did the ways of the shieldmaidens entail?”

He wondered for a moment, given the story she had told him of Katya and Clarice, if that was what she had meant by the ways of shieldmaidens, and if she had dreamed of that, when she had not dreamed of Lukas instead.

“Sacrifices, ritual baths--what one might expect from a wedding.” She tied the end of her hair off with a length of leather cord, the braid coming to rest over her shoulder, the tip of it tickling the neckline of her dress. “When the bride and the groom met in ceremony, they would exchange their weapons with one another.”

He nearly laughed, it seemed so in line with all that he had learned about the northern raiders. "Quite befitting a warrior’s culture," he mused.

Nodding, she stepped closer towards the bed, though she made no move to lie down upon it, instead leaning against a bedpost. “The groom would present the sword of his ancestors which he had unearthed from the family tomb; in turn, the bride would gift him a weapon as well.” Weakly, she attempted a smile, though it looked to be more of a grimace to Percy’s eyes. “My father once told me that he had gifted my mother a weapon such as this. Unfortunately, she was not so familiar with the custom, and so would not accept it.”

Her lips turned downwards, her whole posture sagging with a muted sorrow.

Oh, why not. “We both have our own ancestral weapons,” he said. “If you are amenable, we could exchange them now.”

She flicked her eyes up to him.

“It is no trouble for me.” If it would make her smile, he would take Anaklusmos and toss it into the hearth itself. Lending her his sword for a while was nothing.

She studied him, her lips thin as they pressed against each other. “You truly would not mind?” she asked. “I know it is a silly tradition.”

Rather than answer, he pulled his sword from his belt. The magical item, when not in use, took the form of a key, for ease of portability. Whispering its name, a powerful summons, it grew into the long, leaf-bladed xiphos his father had gifted him, and he held it out to her, hilt-first.

“Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter,” he said, these strange syllables finally at home on his tongue, “I offer you my sword.” He did not know if the words were correct, but he prayed that they would suffice.

Across the bed, her large, grey eyes shone in the firelight. Her mouth quivered with furiously checked emotion, and she had to turn to hide her face, snatching something out of the bundle of clothing she had discarded. When she turned back, she had not regained her composure--not one bit. “Perseus thalassinos ,” she murmured, holding out her knife towards him, hilt-first, just as she had so many months ago, in the middle of nowhere with dead men at their feet, the highest act of trust she could muster. “I offer you my sword.”

Over the bed, they exchanged their weapons.

Taking the bronze knife in his hand, he felt different, somehow. He felt as though he had passed through a door of some kind, had crossed over into a newer, stranger world, and yet, he felt no danger, for he had a partner at his side, one who would see him through all senses of conflict.

Brandishing his weapon, Annabeth took one look at it, then promptly burst into tears.

Percy dropped the knife. It clattered against the cold stones, forgotten. “Annabeth,” he asked, rushing to her side, “Annabeth, what is wrong?”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, she shook her head, her whole body trembling as a tree caught in a mighty storm. Fearful that she would accidentally hurt herself, he plucked the sword from her grasp, tossing it carelessly aside, and gently wrapped his hands around her upper arms.

“Annabeth, what is it?”

She grasped him in return. Her grip was always strong, and now her fingers dug into his muscles, squeezing him tight. “I--” she sobbed, “I--” Her chest was seized with hysterical breaths, her eyes shut tightly. “This is--I--it was not supposed to be like this,” she gasped. Tears flowed freely from beneath her eyelids, glittering like crystals in the firelight.

“I know,” he breathed. “I know, and I am sorry.” Sorry that she was stuck with the likes of him. She could have had her pick of the world--lords and emperors and whoever else--and somehow, she had the misfortune of being tied to him.

“No, it is not--” she wept. “Silena, we had al-always spoken of--and you have been so kind and--and understanding, but I--we--and I dragged you halfw-way across the world, but I know you h-hate it here--”

“I do not hate it here,” he protested, even though it was true.

“I had thought m-my wedding would be held at the camp.” Were he not listening so intently, he would not have heard her words, warbled and warped as they were by her heaving sobs. “On the b-beaches of Troia , and my m-mother would be there, but she is gone , and camp is gone, and--I--I just--”

“I am here,” he murmured, squeezing her shoulders. “Oh, Annabeth, I am here.”

She opened her eyes, grey storm clouds glinting with lightning.

“It is alright,” he told her. He understood her feelings well; not a day had gone by without a thought to the whereabouts of their friends, of their family. But here they were, together, and that was all that mattered. “You are not alone,” he swore . “I will stick by you, I promise.”

With a trembling sigh, she threw her arms around him. He pressed her close, his arms coming up to circle her torso, holding her to his chest. “I am sorry,” she gasped, “I am so sorry.”

“It is alright,” he said, a hand coming up to the bottom of her neck to better support her. “You do yourself no disservice.”

“N-no, it is not--” she shuddered, a localized earthquake within his arms. “The marriage,” she said, “it is not--not legal unless we--we--”

He knew precisely what she was going to say, and though his heart surged at the idea--and he was certain she could feel it, pressed so close to him as she was--his mind, thankfully, was in control for the time being. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Not tonight.”

That seemed to shock her out of her panic. She stilled in his arms, her wails subsiding.

Poor thing, she must have been so worried that whoever she married would attempt to force her to fulfill the marriage contract. Once again, he cursed the whole damnable institution; he knew so often that women had so little say in matters of the flesh. Well, Percy was not like other men, and he would not take something which she was not prepared to give. He would not do that to any woman, let alone one whom he loved so deeply.

She pulled back. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. “It is our wedding night,” she said, dumbly.

“Yes,” Percy agreed, “but we do not have to do anything that you do not want to do.”

“But it is our wedding night,” she insisted.

“I know.”

“Our marriage is not legal if we do not.”

“I understand.”

“But…” she blinked, casting about for her words. “But…”

“We can claim that the festivities left us too exhausted to do naught but sleep,” Percy said. “Or we can claim that we consummated the marriage anyway. Surely your father will not check your sheets for blood.”

Dumbfounded, she gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing around nothing. Percy had grown to rather enjoy rendering her speechless, though this time around, it left something of a bad taste in his mouth.

“I do not think we should do anything tonight,” he said. “To take advantage of you… of anyone this way, would be a most unforgivable sin.”

He had thought she would agree. Surely he had assuaged her worries.

Instead, her eyes narrowed. “On the contrary,” she said, her voice still thick with tears. “I believe we should consummate the marriage tonight.”

“Annabeth--”

“You think I am too weak to fulfill the marital contract.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed.

“Then there is no reason to delay,” she said. “And, moreover, I…”

Trailing off, her cheeks filled with blood. Percy’s heart throbbed in his chest, deafening.

“I… I want it,” she said, a whisper on a breeze.

Helpless, he could only watch as her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“Do you… do you not?”

Beneath his vision, he could just barely see her bosom as it moved in time with her breathing. Oh, Anja, he wanted nothing more in the world than you at this moment!

She shuttered her eyes closed again, as though she were in pain. “I am sorry,” she repeated--for what, though, he could not imagine. “But I am afraid that… that if we do not… then some would see our union as--as invalid.”

The bubble of fantasy burst, and reality set in.

Of course. Politics and power-broking. To save herself, she would give herself to him. To protect her, he had to let this happen.

It was the easiest choice he ever made.

Bending his neck, he leaned down, and he kissed her.

As a flower in the dawn, she opened herself to him.

Her mouth was warm against his, her lips soft. Through the fabric of her dress, he could feel every muscle as she pressed up against him, could feel her breath hitch as he laid her down on the bed, as his hands pushed the hemline of her nightclothes up her thighs.

It felt as though every choice he had ever made, every path he had ever taken and every one he had ever shunned, had led to this moment, to Annabeth, panting and hot beneath him. Percy had been lucky enough to be the paramour of goddesses, disciple and student both, and now he had a chance to demonstrate what he had learned. If she were to be tied to him in this way, if this were his only chance to show her how he truly felt, then tonight, he vowed, he would make it worth her while.

She tasted just as sweet as he had dreamt she would. Her cries of passion, more beautiful than any music he had ever known.

And when he entered her, her scrunched face and wrinkled nose relaxing into slack pleasure, he held himself still, gazing on it, committing every single detail to his deepest, most sacred memory.

They moved together. Over and over again, they moved together, her legs slowly traveling up the backs of his thighs, ticklish and feathery. “Percy,” she gasped, one of his hands coming up to cup her breast, the other hard at work at the apex of her thighs. “Percy!”

“Anja,” he murmured into her neck. “Anja.”

With a wail, she tossed her head back, her braid loose and messy against the pillows, her legs tightening about his waist.

He could not stop himself even if he wanted to. And he did not want to.

Close behind, he followed her over the edge, hissing through his teeth as they took the plunge together.

It could have been days until Percy came back to his senses, days spent in the Elysium of Annabeth’s embrace. Her heartbeat was as ragged as his, and they beat in twain, a call and an answer.

Then she shifted beneath him. “Percy.”

“Oh.” He untangled himself from her, his limbs suddenly so awkward and gangly, pulling himself out and away, then lay down next to her, his hot, sweaty skin suddenly freezing in the cold air.

And there it was. Something of a lifelong dream, fulfilled.

Now if only he could discover why he felt so empty.

After a while, Annabeth threw back the sheets, and got out of bed. Percy tried not to linger too much on her bare form, even as he marveled how she was able to withstand the cold without so much as a protective shift. Then she bent over, picking something up from the floor, and Percy, only a mortal man, he could not resist.

Gods above, she was truly the most stunning creature ever to walk this earth. Every inch of her seemed to be perfectly crafted to send him into a frenzy of passion. So intent was he on taking in the whole beautiful picture that he nearly missed the trickle of something down the inside of her legs, belatedly realizing what it was.

He had to physically tear himself away, flopping himself back down on the sheets, to put that thought to bed. Demonic harpies , he chanted to himself. Stymphalian birdsong. Lord Dionysus in a pankration . Anything which would stop his baser instincts from manifesting themselves.

So focused on his own body was he, he did not notice what Annabeth was doing until it was much too late. “Annabeth,” he gasped, “what--”

But she had already used her knife to cut her hand, letting dark blood drip onto the white sheets. “There,” she said. “Now no one will have cause for doubt.”

He moved to leave the bed himself. “Let me see your hand--”

“It is fine,” she stopped him, already wrapping it up in a length of cloth she had ripped from her underclothes. “It shall cease to bleed by morning.”

“I am sorry,” he said, though he was not certain which sin required her forgiveness. “I did not mean to…” To what? Break her heart? Plant his seed? Fall in love? He had not meant to do any of these things, yet still, they had been done, and could not be undone. But, there was one thing for which he could apologize. “I am sorry that you must bear this burden,” he said. “It is not fair to you.”

“As I said,” Annabeth replied, slipping back beneath the covers, turning away from him. “It is fine. Good night, Perseus.”

Then silence reigned in the bedroom.

Percy could not fall asleep for a long, long time.

[pupsotired]

Lol Introduction and Rules to this

Other Social Medias where you can find me:

Twitter account: https://twitter.com/Poopso1

Instagram account: https://www.instagram.com/pupsotired/

Pixiv account: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/64020539

(There’s other accounts I have but I’m keeping it as this ok? good)________

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Welcome to my domain, peeps.

My name is Pupso or you can call me the internet raccoon (not my actual name but call me one of those two names I said).

I am an artist who digitally and traditionally draws. I’m not a morning person. Let me sleep.

I may be active here, but I’m everywhere so who knows where I’m active at.

I am not a furry. I just drew this pfp.

Rin can step on me anytime!

Len should get in a maid dress. ( And step on me-)

These two should date!

Miku can also step on me. ( be gentle, Miku)

Luka would...uh..yea she would step on me-

Gumi would kill me so there’s no point in stepping on me

Anyways, I listen to vocaloid, read manga so I can bother my siblings (Younger siblings. The eldest kid would want to know what the hell happened), and mainly draw. There’s more things I want to do in the near future (like animating, or learning other languages.)

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There are Rules to this

-You can ask questions to either me or the vocaloids I headcanon, but it’s the ones I know. (asking the rin and len modules would be allowed as well, but it’s the ones I know)

- Please don’t edit/trace/steal my art. It’s just wrong if you don’t credit the person who made the art.

- Just because I ship Rin and Len, doesn’t mean I don’t like other ships (multi shipper gang where you at?)

-I won’t be active most of the time since I’m straight up bored and I just read fanfiction and watch anime. So please don’t bash on me or think I’m dead. I’m still alive!

-Don’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable. (for e.g. sexualizing my persona) I’m a minor, and you should know that I don’t consent to these things.

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Yes I have weird headcanons, don’t judge me.

And that’s all you need to know ^>^

-Internet Raccoon (aka Pupso)