#And thus the found family grows
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Doodle I did of Eda and the Collector!
#eda clawthorne#eda the owl lady#the collector toh#mama Eda#And thus the found family grows#The owl house#toh
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DCxDP fanfic idea: In 30 minutes or less!
Danny is a delivery man.
He got the job after realizing his resume was severely lacking in terms of working experience.
Also when he needed more money for his own purchases. There is a big difference between begging his parents for an allowance and earning his own spending funds.
The thing is, no matter where Danny applied, he was not getting a call back. Jazz warned him that a majority of Amity Park didn't hire them - as she also attempted to get a part-time job when she was his age - because of the Fenton last name.
She swore and hissed, but she couldn't prove that it was the reason they weren't hired. She just heard the talk around the town. They all said they wouldn't want to hire from the lunatic family.
That whenever a Fenton went , something bad quickly followed.
It stung, that not even Nasty Burger wanted him. That placed hired people under sixteen for Pete's sake. But Danny was resourceful. If Amity Park hadn't hired him, then he would just try the other place he had civilianship in.
The Infinite Realms.
Danny figured that if societies existed with the Realms, then they had to have a form of currency. He just needed to find one that used the same one as his world did.
FrostBite was more than happy to point him in the right direction. Since his people were the ones to spend generations attempting to map out the Realms, he had found a part of the ghost zone that Danny could blend into easily.
It was only a thirty minute commute from Danny's family portal. He could easily make that after school.
Thus, Danny flew to the portal location FrostBite told him about and ended up in a place called Central City. He found employment very quickly at Joel's Pizza, and for sixteen dollars a hour he was racing across the city to give some sizzling pizza pies.
. He was given a company scooter, but Danny preferred to fly. No one saw him as he never turned off his invisibly until he arrived at the destination. He got great tips for his speed, and his boss was fun to work for.
His parents are proud that he has a job and is not causing trouble. His friends also have their own jobs so Sam and Tucker have to plan their meet ups now- buts that's just a part of growing up.
The only thing that made his part-time difficult was the ghosts. Not all of them bothered him now a days but a few still did.
Like Young Blood. The brat didn't seem to care that Danny was going to be late to a shift since he had no concept of the importance of adult responsibilities. He was able to text his boss an apology using school as an excuse, but he was still thirty minutes late and sporting a black eye.
Joel stared at him for a long moment, muttered something in Spanish, before handing him five pizza boxes, and told him to take it to the central city police department. Danny was supirse he didn't even lecture him.
When he got to the station, the person in front told him to wait a moment since it was the forensic department that ordered food. He waited a few minutes until a blond man came down the hall, with a cheerful smile.
That smile fell when Danny turned to look at him. There was a brief flash of something dark that crossed his expression before the smile was back ten fold
"Hello," Danny said, standing up. "Order for Barry?
"That's me!" The man grins, holding out a wad of cash "Keep the change."
Wow. A fifty dollar tip!
"Sure thanks!"
"Welcome kid!"
Danny practically skipped away, Barry Watching him climb onto his scooter and slowly blending back into the traffic.
He turned to look at Officer Dawn "Is it just me or was that kid covered in bruises?"
Officer Dawn's mustache twitches with displeasure. "He definitely was. Looked fresh, too. Not only that but he works for Joel Pizza"
"This Joel a trouble maker?"
"The opposite, he was a foster kid. Once he aged out and got his own business, he started hiring teenagers in similar situations. Usually, his staff are all kids who are having a rough time. If things are too bad, he makes reports, but we try to avoid it. Don't want to lose one of the few trustworthy safe spaces for those kids." Officer Dawn's hesitates for a second before he carefully asks."A cop poking around may spook them, but a forensic chemist won't. Do you mind finding out what the delivery kid's deal is for me?"
"I look into it." Barry promises already knowing the Flash is also going to be following the boy just to make sure he safe.
He hates it when kids get hurt. Remind him too much of Wally.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp#dcxdp crossover#30 minutes or less!#Danny deliveries pizza#when you broke you make things work#Is Amity Park discriminatory? yes but only towards the fentons#they cause a lot of property damage#Flash is on the case!#misunderstandings
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Angry Dilfs- Kirishima Eijiro
Yakuza DILF Kirishima Eijiro x Wifey Reader
Context: Your daughter comes to you broken and in need of comfort, but afterwards, all your husband can see is red
Note: this oneshot is based off of Yakuza Eijiro during Breedingtober. You can also read it as a stand alone.
Warning: This oneshot deals with hinted physical assault on reader and Eijiro's daughter caused by a friend. mention of guns, Yakuza, trauma from an attack. READER DESCRETION IS ADVISED. Also children. That too (they've got like 8 kids)
Eijiro leaned back in the cushioned seat, a chubby little Kirishima baby asleep on his chest as he sat in the nursery with her. It was a Friday night and thus was a takeout night in the Kirishima household. With boxes of pizza now empty and all his beautiful girls spread out around the house or in their rooms, it was peaceful. He looked down at his youngest born currently and probably his last if you had any say in it.
It was to no one’s surprise that Eijiro ended up being the one with the most amount of kids. No surprise at all. He grew up with seven other siblings, all being girls, and his parents were always attentive and loving to all of them which is how Eijiro wanted his family to be. He wanted it to be just as warm and as loving as he had it growing up, and he was so lucky to have found you who was so loving and caring and made him feel as though he was the luckiest guy in the world. He had always been outgoing and loving, an overall great guy who was more of a gentle giant than anything.
However maybe it was the breeding kink that should have made it pretty clear what part of his body he thought with.
Although to be fair, you weren’t exactly declining either. All it took was him sweet talking you and you’d find yourself round with another Kirishima baby a few months later. Never did take him much. At one point it was almost as if you could predict it. Whether it would take six months or three years, but you could already tell when baby fever would take over your husband.
He’d always come nice and slow to you, kissing you and worshiping your body like it was something designed by God himself. He would whisper your praises and make you feel as if you were the only woman in the world. Even with all the added weight of motherhood, you had never seen a man more turned on by the sight of you feeling like an absolute mess. And he was such an insatiable man too. Huge in stature and that wasn’t the only thing huge about him. He never left you not satisfied and he was such a great father to all your girls already.
So you often cursed yourself whenever you’d be sitting for another ultrasound, glaring at your grinning husband who was more than happy to be there.
Now with eight kids later, including one pair of twins, Eijiro couldn’t be happier.
The youngest little girl, Asumi let out a small coo in her sleep as she turned in her sleep. Eijiro carefully stood up and walked over to her crib. He never got tired of this and wanted to save up this feeling while it lasted. He careufully placed her down in her crib, not disturbing her sleep as she lay down supported and safe. He had done this enough times to know all the ins and outs. He carefully let go of her before turned to look at his only little boy who was fast asleep in his toddler bed. Juro was fast asleep, the three year old having knocked out with a cup of milk and half of a bedtime story.
With the two of them sorted out, Eijiro carefully moved out into the hallway. With a big family came a big house, but it was worth everything for his family, and it wasn’t that hard either considering the money that his… businesses brought in.
He walked through the dimlit hallways, looking through the cracks in the door to all the sleeping girls in their rooms. The one’s still awake were unsurprisingly the eldest three, Kaori, Satomi and Reika. No surprise to him at all, but they were old enough that he wasn’t going to get in their hair about bed time, least not the last two. So seeing as it was time to clock out to bed, he walked back to the master bedroom.
You sat on the large California King sized bed, reading a book as you got some time to yourself with Eijiro handling bedtime. You looked up to him, a graceful smile on your face. Two decades of marriage and he still never got tired of that beautiful smile. “Hey there, Eiji.” You spoke sweetly. “Are they all in bed?” You asked.
He nodded his head as rolled his shoulders. “Yah, all the ones who need to be, that is.” He commented as he moved over to where you were, getting onto bed himself.
You felt him grab at your hips, pulling you against him. You couldn’t help but giggle as you made yourself comfortable between his legs, leaning back against him with a smile. A low hum came from his chest as he felt up your sides. He kissed down against your neck, but he didn’t stop there. Soft nips came to your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. You closed your book, knowing that the moment he had his hands on you, you wouldn’t be reading anytime soon. You ran one hand through his soft black hair. “Eijiro, I’m busy.” You whined.
“I’m busy too.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at his definition of busy. Eijiro had stopped dyeing his hair over a decade ago. It was a decision he decided to make. As much as he loved the red, he knew that having little girls that would have his natural black hair colour, would mean that he would have to show them to love themselves in their entirety and he couldn’t show that to the little ones if he didn’t appreciate his own hair too. It was something he decided but you didn’t mind. You loved Eijiro in all forms.
You felt a lick go over the new bruise that would form on your neck, making a shiver run down your spine. You let out a soft sigh as you leaned back against him. You knew this was a losing game. Anything to do with your husband and his body against yours felt like a game you would always lose.
Luckily, a knock came to your door like your saving. Eijiro let out a low grumble only for you to hear which made you giggle. You exited out of his arms, moving to place the book down next to him before moving to sit next to him. He raised his head as he leaned back against the headboard, still holding you with one arm. “Enter.” He called out, allowing whichever child was at the door to come in. “I swear, I never get time with my honey.” He grumbled with a frown which only made you giggle at how spoilt he was.
Slowly entering your room, was your sixteen year old daughter, Satomi. You had barely saw her all day and she had been acting rather weird, but you didn’t want to pressure her, knowing she would come talk to the both of you when she needed to. She had gone out with some friends today but only came back later in the evening but went straight to her room. She peaked into your room, slowly closing the door behind her.
Eijiro brightened up at his little girl. He had always been close to his girls but Satomi was his little princess. She was such a daddy’s girl and had been spoiled beyond belief but she was also your best helper too. “Princess. How are you? I’ve barely seen you today.”
Unusually, she had her dyed red hair covering half of her face today. She shuffled into the room, holding onto her arm as she approached the both of you slowly. She kept her eyes down casted as she seemed on the verge of tears. Her ruby eyes glistening with tears. Instantly your maternal senses started ringing in your head as you sat up. You looked to Eijiro who seemed just as worried. “C-can I…” She started softly. “Can I talk to you guys?”
You nodded your head, motioning for her to come and sit down with the both of you. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s going on?” You asked her gently.
She sat down on your bed in front of the both of you. She kept her eyes down casted. Her eyebrows knitted together as she took a moment to piece everything together in her head. She let out a shaky breath but kept her ruby eyes away from the both of you. “When… when I went out with my friends…” She started to tell you both whatever was bothering her. “We went to the mall and everything was great. We saw the movie and got to eat lunch too which was nice. But-” She closed her eyes, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to tell whatever happened today that had her so shaken.
You glanced at Eijiro who glanced back at you. The both of you had a sinking feeling inside you that you both didn’t like whatsoever. It was a horrible feeling inside you, one of sinking dread as you didn’t know what to do almost.
She opened her eyes again, a tear slipping past her eyes. “Koji, a guy I thought he was my friend, he… well… I had just gone to the bathroom and it wasn’t even that far. I was being safe I promise but then h-he… he followed me… and…” Her voice broke as she looked up at the both of you finally. She shook her head as tears started to stream from her eyes, her face puffy. “I promise I didn’t want him to do it! I didn’t try anything! I made sure I dressed appropriately and I wasn’t hitting on him. I promise I didn’t do anything, you’ve got to believe me.”
“Sweetheart.” You quickly moved closer to her, being careful not to scare her as you gently placed a hand on her shoulder. You looked at her in her eyes, trying to calm her down. “We believe you, but you have to tell us what happened.” You whispered.
She swallowed down a sob as she nodded her head. Finally she moved to pull back her hair away from the left side of her face. You gasped as your husband’s eyes widened in shock. Sitting on her beautiful face, near her eye was a dark bruise. “I-I tried to get away, but he’d cornered me. I tried fighting I really did, and if it wasn’t for one of the waitresses hearing me, I wouldn’t have gotten away from him in time before he-” She swallowed down harshly. “But it didn’t stop him from…” She bit back any more words, incapable of speaking as she pulled down part of her nightgown to show more bruises. You were frozen still disgust and pain your throat at the mere fact that someone would do this to your daughter. That someone would that she called a friend would have betrayed her like this. Suddenly you were pulled out of your head as she moved to cover her mouth, biting back sobs as she was shaking. “I p-promise I tried! I really tried!”
“Princess, may I touch you?” Eijiro asked you, far more collected than you expected him to be. He looked to her genuinely, wanting just to comfort her.
She nodded her head. Eijiro moved forward and swiftly held her in his big arms, dwarfing her in size. He hugged her tightly, holding her like she would disappear. Finally being in her father’s arms, Satomi broke down. You moved over to hold her to, threading your hands through her hair.
Your daughter sobbed in the both of your arms. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Daddy! I promise I-”
“No, princess. You did nothing wrong. You really did nothing wrong.” He assured her as he held her in his arms. “You did all that you could. I’m so very proud of you. You’re so brave. Thank you for telling us.”
“You’re safe now, okay?” You whisper to her. “You’re alright. You’ll be okay.”
The two of you held her in your arms until the poor thing had fallen asleep in your arms. She was exhausted and the both of you had stayed with her until you were both sure that she was asleep. Eijiro had gotten up and placed her in bed, allowing her to sleep in her own bed for just a moment. He had given her a kiss on her forehead, before leaving back to your room.
The two of you were silent as you stood amongst yourselves. The atmosphere in you room was heavy as you digested what had just happened. You were quiet as you turned to look at him. You looked over to your husband with a frown on his face.
Eijiro was frozen in place, all emotion ridden from his face as he paused. His fists were balled tightly, almost ready to smash in someone’s skull. He glanced at you, a dark look in his eyes that told you all you had to know. You moved to grab his phone from off the bedside table and handed it to him. You quickly moved to change as your husband made a phone call to one of his gang members. It didn’t even take five minutes before the both of you were walking out of your bedroom.
Eijiro stopped at your eldest daughter’s room. He knocked on Reika’s door, peaking in. Reika sat on her bed with her earphones in. She looked to the both of you, her black hair tied in a bun. She paused at the sight of the both of you and the attire you both adorned. She looked down to the gun holster that was strapped to your thigh. She moved to get up, seeing the clear worry on both of your faces as a sign. Reika knew everything about the business and the Yakuza, being your husband’s heiress to the gang.
“We’re sorting out some business to do with your sister. We’re coming back, watch over them.” He told her seriously.
Reika hesitated as she looked between the both of you. “What type of business?”
Eijiro motioned for you to go and get the car out, which you did without question. He looked back at Reika. “Cleaning up trash.” He stated simply, letting go of her doorhandle. “Call Aunty Mina if anything happens.”
Eijiro left to go downstairs, meeting you in the front of the house as you drove the car forward. Eijiro and you swapped places as he got behind the wheel and you sat in the passenger’s seat. You were both silent in the car. You were checking your handgun, looking it over like it was second nature.
“Honey…”
“Yes?” You turned to look to Eijiro.
Your husband was speeding but considering the time of night, it wasn’t a bother. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a deathly grip, his pupils thin as he seemed only trained on one thing and one thing only. Pure violence and carnage behind his eyes. Something you hadn’t seen in a long time since you had started your family together. “I want to be the one to do it.” He let out darkly his fingers flexing over the wheel. His voice was low with murderous intent. “With my own two hands.”
You watched your husband silently but nodded your head. “Of course.”
He nodded his head as his phone vibrated, with a notification. Everything was shrouded in darkness in the car as you picked up his phone and opened it to see a message from Tetsu. “They’ve got a location. He’s asking if you want men there?”
“Tell him we’ll call for clean up, but I want us to do it ourselves.” He stated simply as he stopped thee car at a redlight. His face was shrouded in a deep crimson red, his eyes almost seeming black with not an ounce of humanity left in them. “No one touches one of my girls.”
-Glitch1d
[Angry Dilf Katsuki]
[Angry Dilf Izuku]
Thats it for all my dilfs that i adore so much. Thank you for supporting this mini series! Also I see you Tumblr, flagging down my Dilf Bakugou post. SMH.
#mha x y/n#kirishima x reader#bnha#eijiro kirishima#dad kirishima#dilf kirishima#yakuza kirishima eijiro#yakuza kirishima#kirishima eijirou x reader#eijiro kirishima x reader#kirishima eijiro x reader#eijiro x reader#tw physical violence#tw trauma#tw assault
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Growing Old Together
What life is like when you make the life long choice to grow old with them. Life, family, love, all the things that are needed to get old and crusty with the man you love.
~
Firstly, you two would wait AFTER he becomes King of the Pirates for literally anything to develop in your relationship. He’s too busy focusing about becoming King of the Pirates and finding the One Piece to worry about something like a relationship. Of course there would be that tension, the casual closeness and moments that just the two of you share. Never like boyfriend girlfriend shit, just casually sharing food or sleeping in the same bed all cuddled up, but no relationship. The day the crew found the One Piece and Luffy finally became the King, he asked you to be his Queen.
With such title, came a promise to protect you and forever be by your side, along with it being a proposal. Which yes it’s weird from being a ‘so are they a thing or not?’ for years on end to getting married, but it works for you two and you personally couldn’t have it any other way. You can finally call your captain your lover, officially being each other’s special someone.
It doesn’t take too long to finally have your first and only child. A little boy, he’s all you two need. Neither you or Luffy could think of a name, so Robin chipped in and suggested the name Isra, meaning journey, like yours and Luffys journey together as individuals, a crew, and the journey of going through parenthood together. You both fell in love with the name, thus keeping it. And boy did Isra grow up to be exactly like his father, so full of energy and love in his heart. The crew fell in love with little Isra, enjoying the little boys company and the simple joy he bought to the crew. It was just like having two Luffys
As he got older, Isra would train with his father to become strong and a reliable member of the crew. He is the son of the King of the Pirates, to say he had a lot of pressure was an understatement. Especially since Luffy still remembered what Ace would say about Roger, and it would kill him if history repeated itself. But of course it didn’t, Isra grew up with a crew that loved and respected him, an Angel of a mother, and a father that any kid would ever dream of having.
Anything was on the table for this man, willing to put his dreams of finding The All Blue just to make you happy from day one of you two dating. But when you told him that his dreams where just as important as his and that you’d be willing to duel wield your dreams he fell for you all over again, dropping down on one knee and proposing on the spot. But it was a few years before you two finally tied the knot, after you two had celebrated the arrival of two baby girls. As much as Sanji wanted to marry you before having kids, biology can’t help that you got pregnant. Which is how little baby Sora came along, naming her after his mother. Than around 5 months later on the night he was going to propose, you drop the bomb of already being a month pregnant. And soon enough Kairi came along. Your two little girls, named after the sky and the ocean.
You two had one big wedding, the Straw Hats and at the Baratie. Unknowingly you referred to Zeff as the girl’s grandfather, never have you seen such a tough man melt so fast. The wedding was short and sweet, your big family all together. And that might lead to the creation and soon birth of your third daughter, Lucy. You picked the name in memory of your captain and his alias back in Dressrosa. If it wasn’t for Luffy, you two would have never met and never had your three beautiful girls, it was your personal way of saying ‘thank you’ to him. Luffy actually greatly appreciated the thought, taking the gesture very personally and taking the fact with pride. Definitely doesn’t flex it saying “I have a kid named after me”.
After that as time went on, you two had two more kids and finally decided to stop. Two more girls, named Oceana and Koi. Sanji prided himself on being the number one girl dad, and that he was. All 5 girls being his spoiled princesses, all they’d have to do is bat their eyes and he’d bring them the whole world, sun, and moon. Funnily enough, they all grew up and developed their fathers love of cooking, wanting to be just like him. He felt so proud, have a little class of his little princesses to teach. Not only did he teach them cooking, the girls grew up seeing how a woman should be treated. Not through directly telling them, but just how he would treat you. Always make you feel like the Goddess you are. I mean you gave him all 5 of his beautiful daughters, growing and making them in your own body and going through hours of pain to bring them into the world. He can never express how gratefully he is.
Lucky for him he doesn't have to worry about his girls too much. They didn't get much when it comes to his sheer strength, but they did get both yours and his head strong attitude and not the type of girls to deal with shit. Sure they get into fights a lot because some guy thought it would be a good idea to flirt with one of them, but honestly you and Sanji can't help but feel like the most proudest parents.
Zoro never thought about dating, getting married or having kids. But something about you triggered something in his brain. It wasn't a whole love at first sight and have kids, it was more like a 'out of all these idiots you irritate me the least' and you didn't mind that. You treated each other with a neutral respect, that's what kept you close to each other. Two peas in a pod, attached by the hip, the brains and the brawn. It was only until during the two years that you two thought through your feelings for each other, missing each other and hating not having the other. The second Zoro first saw you again, all he said was "never leave my side again". And that you didn't, ever. You stayed by his side, up until years later when Luffy became King and he could finally chill out a bit. He was still developing using more swords, but now he could focus on other important things. You. Which was the day he gave you that ring, saying the same thing he did years ago. "Never leave my side again". And you accepted.
As if it was some romance novel, your wedding night lead to the creation of your daughter. It was your idea to name your daughter after Zoros deceased childhood friend, looking him in the eyes as your baby sleeps in your arms. "I've always like the name Kuina, it's such a beautiful name! And I know you'll make her proud, her, and our little Kuina". Your words brought tears to his eye, something he hasn't done in a long time. Although he loved and appreciated the name, he'd always call her Squirt. He devoted himself to teaching how to use a sword, since she always used to try and nibble on them when she was teething. When she got old enough he trained her everyday on how to use a blade, over the years teaching her to use two swords. He of course offered to teach her 3 sword style, but she was happy with the two.
Luckily for you, Zoro, and the Straw Hat crew, she didn't inherit Zoros terrible sense of direction. In the case of that event, both you and Zoro requested that Nami teach her navigation. She happily did of course, but not for free. She was a very sweet girl, but was probably double the amount of dense at her father. Can navigate but has zero social awareness, a fair trade from Zoros point of view. But he's always been social unaware, which surprisingly enough he's the only person to get that side of her. There would be something life threatening happening before their eyes, everyone would be freaking out especially Chopper, Nami and Usopp, but poor Kuina and Zoro would just watch with a blank stare before dealing with the threat. In which, Zoro knew that his daughter would be able to take care of herself, she is his daughter after all.
Which is probably the best part of his side of parenthood. Your crew would be adventuring or something and Kuina would be gone and you'd be loosing your mind worrying about your daughter, Zoro would just give you a blank look and tell you to "calm down, woman. She's fine". She always was, but you're a mother. Kuina is basically Zoros side kick, second in command, his left hand woman, his missing eyes, the one who covers his back. He liked to brag to the cook that his daughter is as strong as he was at her age, even going as far as to sometimes say "my 10 year old daughter is stronger than you, pervert cook" which would of course always start a fight. Not that she minded, she always got a kick out of her father getting into arguments with the ships cook. Much to your dismay.
The fact that someone like you confessed to him in the first place was already a shock. You had always been so kind, helping out anyone who needed it. Which makes sense as to why you where Marcos main nurse, his number 2. For a while he just thought you where just being nice, until you two got drunk one night and ranted everything to each other. Ace thought that you'd never talk to him again, think of him as some monster child like everyone else. But no. "Why should I care if your Rogers son? I'm a whitebeard pirate! And so are you, so to pops we're family. And I like being around you, much more fun to be around than all these old men". And he fell hard. The next day he casually asked you out, which you said yes. Even after what you said, he didn't know if he should trust that this would last long. It would be nice while it lasted, the cuddles and kisses, holding someone at night, a drinking partner, someone to keep warm at night during the winter, someone to keep him cold during the summer with how cold womans bodies get, just someone to love him. But the ending never came, shocked even when you brought up the idea of going more and more steps further into the relationship, finally leading to you asking about marriage.
Before deciding what happens next in your relationshit the events of Impel Down and Marineford go down, but end better than hoped. Ace didn't listen to the antagonizing words of the marine, instead he came sprinting for you to scoop you up in his arms and take you far away from all this danger. You're a nurse after all, you shouldn't be this far into the battle field. That was actually the day he finally asked, you, him, and the Whitebeard pirates rushing back to the ship, you safe in his arms, he smiles as he looks down at you. "Let's get married". And you did. The Whitebeard Pirates and the Straw Hats, coming together for your wedding. Soon after, your boss Doctor Marco looked you in the eyes and told you that you're pregnant. It was probably the first time in his life that Ace had cried, knowing that he was going to be a dad. To start a family with you, a family away from Roger, a family starting within the Whitebeard Pirates. You had your daughter, naming her Rouge, after his beloved mother. The woman who slowly forced herself to die just so she could bring Ace into this world.
A few years later you had your son, Eddy. His namesake being your captain, Edward. He was so touched by the gesture, an adorable innocent little one being named after him. Being even more toughed when you two asked for him to be the Godfather. Of course he said yes, already accepting the title of grandpa anyway. You also asked Marco to be a Godfather, gratefully for the man who saved you and brought you to the pirates. The crew loved having the two little ones running around the ship, it bringing a new layer of joy on board. Someone's having a bad morning? The two kids come running past happily playing and laughing. Depression cured. With the two kids, Rouge was an exact copy of how Ace was as a kid, Ace actually finding it funny cause Eddy was exactly like Luffy as a kid. Same age gap to. Eddy was the cute little happy idiot who would talk to anyone and everyone, and if anyone was mean to him you'd expect his big sister to appear out of nowhere and bite your ear off.
The two grew to be amazing, Rouge always staying the protective older sister and taking care of her brother. She developed multiple skills in case Eddy wanted to go off and be a pirate without their parents and he needed a crewmate. A doctor? She's got it. A navigator? She's got it. A cook? She's got it. A shipwright? She's got it. Anything Eddy would need for his crew, his big sister has his back. You and Ace are glad that the two have such a good relationship, especially Ace. Remembering how much of a dick he used to be to Luffy he's glad that his daughter is such an amazing big sister. But where Rouge knew knowledge, Eddy was the fighter. He was the one that started fights and punching people in the face, doesn't mean that Rouge was weak by any means. Say Eddy heard someone making an off handed comment about his sister, he'd hit first. But if they hit him back, she'd come in and hit third. Ace is honestly looking forward to the day his kids will go off and make a name for themselves, knowing that they'll be two forces' to deal with.
Surprisingly enough it didn't take too long for sparks to fly with you two. Knew each other for 3 months before dating, which to outsiders looking in it looked like 'oh they'll last a month and never speak again' but no, it was as if that sweet honeymoon phase never ended and constantly being sweet and lovey dovey. Which lead to only dating for a year and him dropping down on one knee, you said yes. Because of his line of business it had to be insanely small with just the two of you and a priest, of course you two sent out a few letters to close family to tell them. Which was his little brother and boss, and your very close family. He didn't think this would happen, especially since you where once a pretty girl he saw on the street while he was in Dressrosa. Not like me minds, he's madly in love and you love him just as much as he loves you. It didn't take long before you fell pregnant, which is when stuff with life started to change. You where moved to a Revolutionary secret hideout to keep you safe, especially with how many enemy's would love to kill you and your unborn baby. You didn't mind, spending most of your time with Koala and talking about parenthood with Dragon, not like he could say much in the first place.
9 months later your daughter was born, little baby Nova. Her name was a heavy topic between you and Sabo, wondering what to name your little princess. Nothing ever felt perfect enough. Until one night while laying together, looking up at the stars with your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you and one on your stomach. He said it. "Nova". "Nova?". "Yeah, like a supernova in the stars, and it also means 'New', like my new life with you". "Nova it is". And that's when it was decided. She was the light of his life, not leaving home for almost a month just to be with you and your daughter. You told him that he needs to work and people need him, which he eventually gave in and finally went back to his work under Dragon. There would be time that he would be gone for weeks on end but you knew he'd always come back, and when he did he'd always hug his family close and never want to let go. As she got older she was granted a normal life, being able to go to school and make friends, while under the watchful eye of the Revolutionary. Sabo is very high ranked after all, if anything happened to Nova it would break the hearts of everyone who knew the girl. He always made sure to make it for birthdays and bringing back an amazing gift from the country he had returned from, which defiantly not making her classmates jealous.
As Nova got older, Sabo had told her the truth behind his work and how important and truly scary it really was. Even at the age of 13 when she was told she understood compliantly, she wasn't an idiot. Speaking of, Nova was very smart for such a young age with Sabo being her teacher. She was a little of an outsider because of it, kids her age hating how smart and spoilt she was. She didn't care, she didn't really like them either. And besides, there was an entire organization that practically kissed the ground she walked on. At only age 17, she looked up at her father with a serious stare. "I want to join the Revolutionary". And she did. She wasn't sent to do anything scary or too dangerous, just starting off to help with Koala and her father on missions. You felt so proud of your family, your husband and daughter being Revolutionaries and working hard to change the world for the better. You where just a girl who would spend her days working at a bakery, years later you're married and birthed two people who are changing the world.
Eventually as she got older, Nova became Sabos right hand woman, taking over Koala's job and working hand in hand with her father. She always was a daddies girl, even if he was slightly absent during the early years. He hates himself for that, but he defiantly is making up for lost time by working with her now. Still his spoilt princess though, but she wasn't a spoilt brat. You raised her better than to be a brat, always making sure she grew up to be gratefully and knowing that her daddy wasn't like the other kids dads and could gift her different things. Which she always took to heart, always using it till you two practically begged her to stop using it. Like if he got her a beautiful kimono from Wano, she'd wear it even when it wouldn't fit and was practically falling apart. She has a box under her bed of everything Sabo ever got her that she can't use anymore, not having the heart to ever get rid of it. She thinks it's a secret, but of course you know and you told Sabo. Sabo hopes that one day if needed, she'll take over his roll in the Revolutionary. She would want nothing more, knowing it would make him proud.
Your crew mates described you two as childhood sweethearts, but Law begged to differ. That day in the snow, begging Penguin and Sashi to stop hurting the poor bear, Law appearing and saving Bepo, you and Bepo following him around like lost puppies, and befriending Penguin and Sashi. The OG crew was what you 5 where called. It wasn't a secret that you had a crush on Law and it wasn't a secret that he liked you, but you where always too considerate of his feelings and waited for him to confess when he was ready. He knew that you where doing this and he appreciated the thought, and oh how he wanted desperately to finally tell you how he felt and how much he had fallen for you over the years. What was stopping him? Doflamingo, obviously. He didn't want to get you to get hurt because of him, especially knowing the type of man that Doflamingo is. If he knew that Law had someone that close to him, God doesn't know what that big bird would do to you just to hurt Law. Once it was over, he knew he was ready to confess. But of course shit happens, Straw Hat shit. During the celebration at Wano, the celebration of freeing the country from Kaido. He watched the fireworks with you, and finally told you how he felt. "I've loved you for years now, I've waited years to hold you in my arms. Now, you are safe. And I want you to be safe with me for however long you wish". You grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly. "I'd be more than happy to be with you, for however long you wish to have me".
It took a decade before finally getting married, but a little something popped up between this time. Well, someone. Well...two little someone's. 3 years into your relationship, the Heart Pirates celebrated the announcement of a new member joining, a member created by you and Law. Law was your own personal doctor, giving you daily check ups and his own prescription of how to healthily grow the baby. But while he was doing a check up during your second trimester, his eyes lite up as he told you. "Twins". Two little girls, his little angels. He was anxious as he helped you give birth, no one else was allowed in this moment. After hours and hours, little baby Cora and Rose laid in their bed together all wrapped up like burritos. The crew fell in love with the two girls, swearing to risk their lives for them. Especially uncle Sashi, Penguin and Bepo, self proclaimed uncles by the way.
Law’s a very hands on parent, being a huge helicopter parent for the first 4 years of their lives and closely monitoring their early years of development. Nothing went by without his knowledge, talking things through with you of course since you literally grew and pushed them out. He also wanted his girls to be smart and able to take care of themselves if needed, even if he was keeping a close eye on them over the first 18 years. His girls are free to develop their own interests and hobbies of course, he wasn’t that type of helicopter parent. It took a long time of reassurance from you telling him that the girls are fine and that there’s no one that can hurt them. He knows that there isn’t really anything or anyone that can harm his girls, not with him, you, the crew, and the Straw Hats around. But he’s still going to be anxious as all hell.
But he never ever had to worry about it, his twins where perfectly fine while growing up. The only problem really would be the pranks the two would pull on the crew while they grew up, being identical twins and all. You found it hilarious when they went through their creepy twin phase, especially since it worked so well of your crewmates who would always get all jumpy. Law made sure the girls grew up with at least a brief knowledge about medical care in case they needed it, both growing a interest in anything and everything medical, the sweet to the gory. It should have been a tell tail sign, the girls loved to collect dead animal bones or poke at rotting animals with sticks as kids. You obviously raised the concern with Law, but he reassured you that it's okay. Now they're talented surgeons and morticians, Law was defiantly proud but you on the other hand wished that at least one of them didn't have such a morbid interest. But they're both happy and that's all you care about in the end.
This is the oddest, it being Kid and all. Kid never really expected or planned or even wanted something like a partner or kids. He liked the idea of being free and casually getting to fuck whoever and do whatever he wanted, until you joined. It was actually Killers idea, seeing you being sold off at Sabaody and telling Kid how he knew you from his younger years being known as a little freak who can basically turn any plant into median. The older boy always kept an eye on a kid like you, always wanting the best even with how you where treated just because of your gift. So Kid took it up, during the commotion he ordered Killer to grab you and take you with them. You didn't really fit in with the group, being surrounded by tall buff scary men. You where more the soft smile, the people person, the kind heart, the "Don't worry, I'll make you feel better in no time" on the crew. At first Kid hated that about you, hating that he was convinced to have some softy chick on his crew. It was only during the time of nursing him and helping him through the phantom pains of loosing his arm did he actually start to soften up. You where patent with his suborn attitude, until you'd angrily snap at him if he was actually at risk of hurting himself.
He kinda liked that you had that switch, especially seeing you so nice and happy all the time. He wouldn't admit that he had developed a little crush on you, it didn't get any better. His brain skyrocketed and his crush grew in an instant during a drunken hookup, his brain short circuiting at how much of a secret sex Goddess you are. Taking him so well, saying and doing all the right things, being able to make him finish many times with just your hands and mouth. Sure sex isn't the number one important thing in a relationship, it was the fact that a sweet girl like you had a dark side, and he was in love. He would have been happy keeping his crush to himself and making you just a fuck buddy...until you told him that he got you pregnant. He accepted his fate now, he couldn't bring himself to demand you to get an abortion. He later thanks his previous choice, seeing you with his son. "REX!". "Rex? Like...a dog?". "IT'S A COOL AS FUCK NAME!". And that's how your son got his name, Rex. He wanted a cool tough name for his boy. He felt so proud to have a son, and a son that looked like a tiny clone of himself. He loved to keep him around, loving to watch his son do dumb shit. When he got a little older Rex would try picking fights with the other pirates on board, throwing shit and screaming. He loved his kid, Kid loving his kid.
The two would get scolded by you a lot, saying that Kid is going to raise a violent child who will be swearing by the time he's 10. Or if you'd ask them to do something and yell at you. "SHUT UP BITCH!". "YEAH BITCH". "I'm sorry, what did you two just call me?". You'd ask them with a sweet smile, the two going white in the face and muttering apologies. Not like you where absent, you where the more strict parent. Making him eat his vegetable's, go to bed on time, shower, do homework you gave him, brush his teeth, the normal stuff. The topic of marriage or even being in a relationship never came up, mainly because neither of you felt the need to. He always came to you for his sexual needs or any none asking for comfort. Neither of you went with anyone else, no sex from anyone or anything, just there for each other. You two where basically married, but never even became boyfriend and girlfriend. Not even any 'oh we should get legally married to make it feel more normal for Rex' but no. Rex understood that his parents where different, but that they still loved each other. Kid didn't need some paper or a ring to say "She's mine" when his actions showed that.
Rex was already an interesting kid, growing more and more into his dad. But just like you, he had his other side. Well instead of a dark side it was a light side. He knew how he should act in public so he'd always use what his mother had taught him to his advantage to get what he wants. Even going into making stuff like his dad and being able to sell trash for high prices, being a very charming and persuasive young business man. Little ass hat, but you and Kid still being very proud of him. You're just proud he's getting his own money and not having to beg you and Kid for money, Kid is happy that Rex has taken up his interest in making shit and being able to make tones of cash for a piss poor effort. All in all, Kid was actually an amazing dad for Rex. He was a lot more caring and loving that expected, having his little clone by his side till the day that Rex has old enough to take care of himself and fly on his own.
#one piece x reader#one piece law#one piece law x reader#one piece ace x reader#trafalgar law x reader#ace x reader#one piece#one piece luffy#one piece sanji#one piece zoro#one piece ace#one piece kid#one piece luffy x reader#one piece sanji x reader#one piece zoro x reader#one piece sabo#one piece sabo x reader#one piece kid x reader#luffy x reader#sanji x reader#zoro x reader#sabo x reader#kid x reader
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Seeds of Pomegranates
Pairing: god!Jaehyun x human!reader
Genre: Hades x Persephone reimagining, dark romance, hate to love, slow burn, smut
Word Count: 29.5k
Warnings: morally grey characters
Summary: The day the god of the underworld steals you away, he expects to have found a timid wife to make his isolated life more bearable. Little does he know that the rose he picked from the garden called earth bears knives instead of thorns, and he might not have found a timid wife, but a queen with a heart as dark as his.
A/N: Hi guys! Months worth of rewriting and editing is finally finished! This story grew very dear to me since this is my first plot based on greek mythology, and I took my sweet time for the world building. Thus, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
The day the god of the underworld stole you away from earth, he didn’t only steal your body, but your soul too.
You were watering the flowers in the garden behind your small house before he did it. It was the first day of spring, the sun rays only slowly starting to feel warm and pleasant on the tip of your nose. Your plants were reluctantly awakening after months of hiding under a thick blanket of icy snow, but you were determined to make them flourish and blossom in all colors again. Your mother always said you had a magic touch for making flowers grow even from concrete, and every year you proved to her that she was right.
From the kitchen window that stood ajar, you smelled the delicious stew she was currently cooking with the help of your little sister, prepared from the self harvested vegetables that had survived this long winter. You were already looking forward to lunch - of which you were blissfully unaware you wouldn’t be able to join at that time.
When the watering can was slowly emptying, only droplets still coming out, you arose from your crouching position with the intention to walk over to the well and refill it one last time. Overhearing your sister placing the plates and cutlery on the table, you assumed the stew was finally ready, so you hurried with your steps to finish your labor quickly.
If you had known that the last words you directed at your mother and sister before leaving the house would have been “I’ll be back soon!”, would you have chosen other ones? Perhaps something with a deeper message like “I’ll always love you” or “I’ll be fine”? But you hadn’t known, so they were left with the promise that you’d eventually return from wherever you vanished to that day.
Even though you didn’t know yourself whether you would ever be able to see them again.
Lowering the bucket into the well, it never came to reach the water’s surface. Suddenly, it felt like the entire world came crashing down on you. Deafening noise replaced the birds’ singing and chirping that had accompanied you until now. You panicked and raised your head, looking over to the house where you wanted to make sure that nothing was happening to your family as the soil beneath your feed started to shake too.
Gathering your skirts around your hips, you prepared yourself to sprint, but as you were about to set one foot aside, there was nothing to support your body anymore in front of you. The ground under you was split, entirely gone, and only darkness gaping at you from beneath. You let out a scream and stepped away, rescuing yourself to the other side of the cleft.
Having no idea where this earthquake came from as they were unusual for this part of the world, you only thought about saving your mother and sister. But as you looked over to the house again, it still stood there, solid, steady and seemingly unmoving. And then, it was gone. Not because it fell into a crater like the one that had split in front of you, but because you fell into one that had opened up between your legs, forcing them apart.
Realizing the danger of the situation too late, there was no possibility for you to save yourself anymore as you fell right into the gap, into darkness, with a long lasting scream.
So, this was how you died, you thought.
____
You had dreamed of your mother and your little sister. Only the three of you, sitting at the lunch table, eating the delicious stew the two had prepared upon your return from the garden. You were chattering and laughing together as always, as though nothing had changed. But it wasn’t real, only a dream in which you wanted to linger a bit longer.
Silent tears had streamed down your closed eyes that were now dried around the rims and which you still refused to open. The surface on which you were lying felt a little too comfortable, almost like a soft mattress. A thick blanket was pulled over your body as well so that you didn’t freeze. You were able to move your fingers, feeling every breather your chest drew as though reminding you that you were very much still alive and not dead like you had assumed.
Eventually, you had to force your lids open. Dim light coming from lit candles immersed the dark room in which you were situated in a soothing atmosphere. Though the term “room” was an understated description for the place in which you found yourself. The closet-like space back at home which you shared with your sister could be called a room, but this was way bigger than your entire house, including the garden, and way more. This was an entire suite.
You braced yourself against what truly turned out to be a soft mattress on a huge bed that was thrice the size of your own, the posts towering you on each edge and connecting over your head in a net of purple velvet. The bed was made of black marble glistening in the flickering candlelight coming from the golden chandeliers, and only then you noticed that the entire room was forged from this luxurious, dark material.
To your right, you spotted two high pointed windows that reached to the vaulted ceiling with interlaced arches, but the view was hidden by curtains made of the same purple velvet that was hanging over your bed. The suite was decorated with long, golden mirrors and stucco of the same color, and to your left, you found a long closet stretching across the entire wall as well as a dressing table.
Before you could inspect the place further, a knock on the door made you gasp out loud and slide to the far end of the bed. You were at a loss about what had happened to you, where you currently were, why you were here. Had you, inexplicably, survived the earthquake and been rescued by someone?
You nearly didn’t dare look when the doors opened and in walked a girl, most likely a bit younger than you, dressed all in black with a golden tray in her hands. She was very pale, but the color of her skin stood in contrast to her dark hair and garments of the same color, the smile around her lips inviting, kind, and genuine.
“Good morning, mistress, you’re already awake!” she chirped in a cheerful voice.
It was morning already? For how long have you slept? “Good morning,” you croaked, startled by your own, hoarse voice. “Where am I?”
“At my master’s palace.” She put the tray on top of the mattress, right next to you. There, you spotted a bowl filled with what appeared as porridge. “I came to bring you breakfast, mistress. After that, I’ll help you bathe and get dressed.”
“What for?” You furrowed. If anything, you wanted to leave right away to return home. “And please, I’m not a mistress.”
“To meet my master, he’s already waiting,” was the girl’s simple answer. “And as a guest of this household, you’re formally our mistress.”
At that moment, it made sense to you. Of course you would need to express your gratitude to the person who saved you from the earthquake, it was only polite. Then, you could return home, so you gave a nod to confirm your agreement despite being addressed as a mistress still not sitting right with you. You would act along for today.
“What’s your name?” you asked the girl as she put the tray on your lap, taking the spoon into your hand and dipping it into the porridge.
For a guest suite so big, the breakfast was very simple, plain even, you silently remarked. The oats were made with water, not milk, so the flavor wasn’t very rich as they also hadn’t been seasoned with sugar or cinnamon. But again, you didn’t want to be ungrateful and enjoyed what was offered to you.
“It’s Ara, mistress.”
The title sounded so bizarre to your ears. You were a simple girl from a small village, not someone who usually resided at such a place.
“Ara, I would love to meet your master and express my gratitude. Take me to him.”
“Very well, mistress.”
____
After taking a bath in a room that wasn’t less luxurious as the one in which you had slept, with a tub made of the same dark marble that reminded you of onyx, Ara dressed you in a tame, but beautiful long-sleeved dress made of pastel pink silk that flowed down your body and fitted perfectly. During the process, you noted that you hadn’t caught any bruises or scratches from the fall, and you nearly started to question your sanity if falling into that crate had even happened at all. Miraculously, you had survived unscathed.
With cautious steps, you followed Ara along the dark corridor lit up by candles, the dark yet lavish theme of the place also present here. It didn’t take you long to find out that this wasn’t a mansion, but an entire palace you had only read about in books. For someone who had grown up in a small, rundown house, it couldn’t quite fit in your imagination how big a palace like this one must be as you rounded corners and passed by more corridors with walls you had to bend your neck to see them end. There were no windows open, all blacked out by the velvet curtains despite it being morning apparently, light coming only from the elaborate candelabras.
You wondered how far from home you had been found as you had never encountered someone passing by a palace like this close to you, so fascinating yet intimidating. Surely, news must have broken out like wildfire already since village people devoured gossip like no one else, especially when it was about something as lavish as the owner of this palace. You were eager to find out and request an escort home.
Ara eventually stopped in front of a heavy door after you had nearly clumsily flown down a stairwell. On your way to here, you hadn’t encountered a single other person. It was quite a huge residence for someone to call it a home to themselves only. You didn’t know what to make of this odd place.
“My master awaits you.”
As the door opened, you found yourself standing in front of a purple carpet that led into a grand hall. The carpet shaped a long aisle with swaths of the same colors on the walls, interrupted by golden candelabras. The windows, spaced every few feet, were taller than most homes you had seen, and the high ceilings as well as arches were just as extravagantly forged.
And there, on a dais at the end of the aisle, raised a pompous throne, tapering at the top in spikes and forming sword-like adornments that were divided by a skull in the very middle of it.
On the throne itself was seated a tall figure.
The master.
“Please come in,” he called out to you.
Even though you were still at the other side of the hall, you heard him clearly, a voice so low, it could haunt your dreams, but also so melodic, it could lure you to listen to its owner for an eternity as well. The latter was what drew you closer as the door magically shut behind you without physical force.
He was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and even this didn’t do a description justice, you thought to yourself as you stood in front of the dais after a long, silent walk toward it, eyeing the master hopefully, almost imperceptibly. In your small village, you had encountered many beautiful people on their journey across the lands, but even the most handsome ones didn’t come close to the man opposite of you.
Other-worldly, on the other hand, was spot on to describe his appearance. His hair was blacker than a crow’s feather, falling elegantly into his forehead and nape, his skin fairer than winter snow, and his dark eyes clearer than morning dew. He was everything you knew and way more than that, nearly impossible to fathom in human words.
His right leg hung loosely over the throne’s armrest, his elbow propped against the left one as though he was bored, but you didn’t miss the attention and slight wariness in his gaze. He was donned in a black jacket and black trousers with gold embellishments that ended in boots of the same shade. The attire rustled when he settled in a proper seating position and leaned forward as though to examine you. Only then you noticed the black crown that ended in spikes sitting on top of his head and nearly meshing seamlessly with his dark hair.
Having almost forgotten your manners, you quickly gathered your composure, suppressing your reverence for his appearance, and did a curtsey. “I apologize for having let you wait for so long… master. I wanted to express my gratitude for the rescue and for giving me shelter in your home.” You caught him raising a brow when you looked back up to him.
He slowly repeated two words, “Rescue? Shelter?”
You were just as perplexed, but explained your situation calmly, suspecting there might have been a miscommunication from your side, “For having saved me after I fell into the crater during the earthquake. I am deeply indebted to you and will do anything in my power as a peasant to repay what you have done for me. But first, and I want to apologize beforehand for being so bold, I ask to return home and make sure that my mother and sister are well.”
“I haven’t rescued you.” Smoothly, he set both his feet on the dais’ surface and leaned back again as though more relaxed now, “It was me who tore the earth apart to get you.”
A shudder ran down your spine and you took a step back. Surely, you must have misheard. “W-what do you mean by that? I don’t understand.”
He rose from his throne, now standing even taller and higher above you, and you grew more intimidated than you already were, bracing yourself to flee as an eerie feeling settled in your stomach.
“This is the underworld, my kingdom.” Pause. “And you’re going to be my wife.”
____
You were running as fast as your feet were able to carry you. Somewhere along the way, you had lost your slippers, but you didn’t mind your bare soles touching the ground in passing as long as you could find an exit. But there was none. With the long skirts flowing between your legs and your hair getting lifted up by each movement, you ran along the apparent endless corridors, but every door you opened led you into another, empty room, regardless of the floor and part of the palace you ended up in.
There was no exit, there was only darkness.
Exhausted and having to support yourself against the cold wall, you gasped for air, your lungs hurting as you had been trying to escape for too long already. From the window, a soft breeze found its way in, but you didn’t dare to pull the curtains aside, scared of what you would find behind them.
He was the god of the underworld, he had said.
You had heard many people in your village and visitors talking about these deities, worshiping them even, despite no one having met one once. Except for… you vaguely remembered an elderly woman journeying through the country once and passing by your house as well. She wanted to spread the news that she had been abducted by the god of the sea when she was younger, but your mother only closed the door in front of her face. Now you wondered whether she had been right all along as you just couldn’t wake up from this nightmare.
With a start, when you were able to stand on your own feet without feeling on the brink of fainting from exhaustion again, you pried apart the curtains and were surprisingly delighted to meet with light.
But this feeling evaporated very quickly as you gazed into the distance. The landscape was the greatest contrast to your home country that shone with green fields, towering trees, scentful flowers and golden crops. What dominated the scenery here were rolling plains, mostly treeless with the exception of a few clustered pines. Beneath the sky, everything was tinged in a reddish hue, varying from light orange to crimson. Your field of vision was constrained by a gray mountain range so high, the sharp tops ending in red clouds that were so thick and heavy that no light of any sort was coming through. What caused the red lightning though, you couldn’t see.
When you lowered your head, you discovered you were currently on one of the top floors of this dark palace that was built in a foreign, but impressive way. It was a complex, rich system of forts, bastions and towers with sharp tops that sparkled in the reflection of the red lighting and melded with the clouds of the same shade. The building ended several dozen meters below you on a bridge that crossed a vibrant sapphire blue river.
So there was a way out of this palace.
“This is my kingdom and as my wife, it will become yours too.”
You flinched upon hearing his voice, not daring to turn around to him. You hadn’t even heard him approaching, when he had caught up to you. If he was the god of the underworld, what kind of power did he possess? You weren’t sure whether you ever wanted to find out.
“This will never become my home.” When you finally faced him, you were sure passion and resistance flickered in your eyes almost as intensely as the sky behind you. Fear was not a term familiar to you now as you cared more about your remaining family. “And I will never become your wife. I demand my freedom right now!”
He sighed as though he was the one in the right to get annoyed. “I fear I might not be able to do that.”
“You brought me here without my consent, you tore me away from my family, you robbed me off my life,” you spat, “and you’re expecting that I’m going to stay?”
“Even gods cannot defy godly rules.” He stepped closer to the window, but this time, you didn’t withdraw, indicating that he didn’t have such an effect on you. When he stood next to you, tall and mighty, his presence radiating a threatening aura, you still didn’t waver in your position, the growing resentment replacing apprehension. “When a human comes to the underworld, they cannot return on their own.”
“Am I-?!” You gasped.
He only snickered dryly as he looked out of the window. “You’re very far from being dead. You’re still very much alive.”
“Then I can go back,” you whispered more to yourself, this enlightenment getting your hopes up. You would find a way, with or without his permission.
He might be a god, but he didn’t own you. He might have stolen you from your home, but he hadn’t taken control of your mind, or your body. You were still you, and you would use all of your remaining strength, mentally and physically, to reunite with your family on earth.
The god shifted his head as though catching your silent mantras, looking down at you with an expression almost so unreadable, it seemed on the verge of indifference even. “There is a way. But do you really think I will let you go after I did everything in my power and beyond that just to get you?”
Stretching out his hand, he grabbed your chin, and despite all the twisting and turning that you did, you weren’t able to wind yourself out of his grip. You bared your teeth, hissing under your breath, “I’m not a possession you can decide over. If you won’t let me go, I will do it myself!”
He jerked you towards him with his grip and you let out a squeal that sounded far more worrisome than you had wanted to let slip. But as he had you in control with only his fingers, you couldn’t defy the terrified feeling anymore that settled deep in your bones. It showed all in your eyes when he locked gazes with you, his look the total opposite of yours, stern and determined.
Bringing his lips to your ear, the god whispered, “Try, and we’ll see what happens.”
When his breath hit your skin, you shuddered. But not in a fearful, dreading way as his grip didn’t hurt at all. Goosebumps formed on the spot around your ear, running down to your shoulder and all along your arm, betraying your own body in what you should actually feel right now.
He let you go with a slight smile, observing you from head to toe as though he was able to read your body language. Then, he turned around and left, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor.
Rage took over this slight moment of irritation when he was gone, making you kick candelabras out of your way, tearing curtains apart and screaming at the underworld that the opened windows revealed: death, isolation and endless darkness.
And then, despair replaced fury and you broke down crying by the window, calling after your mother and sister.
____
“Mistress, you need to eat something.”
Ara placed a bowl of the same, plain oatmeal next to you on the bed that you, for the third day in a row, refused to eat. You had lost all your appetite, spending day and night in what had been assigned to be your bedroom, sleeping and weeping. Though day and night didn’t differ much from each other down here as you had figured. The days consisted of threatening red sky, the nights of dangerous darkness.
“You also have to change your clothes, mistress. I selected a few from the closet.”
“Why won’t he let me go home?” you whispered, turning to the window side away from her and watching the red sky fade into the black one as one single tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “Why do I need to stay here?”
“Once you’re here, it’s not so easy to go home, mistress. Almost impossible even.”
“Then why did he bring me here in the first place?” Your voice was hoarse from all the crying the days before, hair greasy and sticking to your skin, eyes puffy and swollen. “I’ve always tried so hard to be a good girl again. Do I still deserve this? Is this my very own punishment?”
“I don’t know what you mean, mistress, but it’s odd,” Ara stated nearly absent-mindedly, “the way you humans think. There are humans who would do anything to get into the godly realms, demanding entry into a harem or only bearing the child of one. You’re the first I encounter who doesn’t want all this.”
“What do those humans expect from this?”
“Endless satisfaction, glory and youth, mistress. In the godly realms, you cannot age.”
You chuckled bitterly. “Of course.”
“Doesn’t this sound alluring to you too?” Ara wanted to know with genuine curiosity. “My master would be willing to offer you anything you want.”
“Absolutely not,” you instantly refused. “Having all your beloved ones die one after another until you’re all alone… for eternity? I wouldn’t be able to live like that, possessing all that richness but not what’s most important to me. The only thing I want is my family, nothing else.”
Ara fell into silence. “I don’t have a family, so I cannot relate. It’s nice to meet someone who adores their family though and doesn’t want to unalive them like most gods.”
“I’m sorry.” You turned back around to her. “What happened to your family?”
“Nothing.” She was smiling again. “I’m an ordinary sprite with no powers, I don’t know where I originate from. That’s what we all are here… powerless in our nature, so we end up in a serving position. But I’m not sad about it. I have a purpose for eternity, it’s better than wandering around with no direction.”
You watched Ara spreading out the dresses on the huge bed. They were all in your favorite pastel colors, the color of the flowers that bloomed in your mother’s garden, the material so luxurious and soft upon touching the hem with your finger tips, you were sure you would have never been able to afford even one dress under normal circumstances.
If this was Ara’s only purpose in life, who were you to refuse her offer? A simple favor for someone who had been taking care of you, nothing more. Perhaps, changing your clothes after three days wasn’t a bad idea either. You sat up and inspected each dress in detail while asking,
“You said humans demand entry to the godly realms, Ara. Where are they? The people in the harem here, for example.”
Given the possibility of staying young and wandering around in these rich clothes forever, living a lush lifestyle, you could very well imagine that other humans would do anything to be in your position now. But you weren’t one of those, you didn’t care about luxury, goods and money.
“My master doesn’t have a harem, mistress, nor do other mortals live here in his palace. It’s only us, other houseworkers and servants.”
“Oh. I was expecting…” You didn’t know what you had expected, but you weren’t surprised either. The darkness in this kingdom wasn’t very inviting to live in until eternity after all.
“How about this dress, mistress?” Ara held up a light blue gown made of silk with long, almost translucent sleeves and cut-out in the back. You had never worn something as daring but also as beautiful as this. “I will bathe you and do your hair the way you prefer.”
“What would I need it for?” Only now you noticed that your stomach was growling. Although plain oats didn’t smell deliciously tempting, your body was telling you that you desperately needed to be fed. You already saw yourself giving in to your needs and devouring the oatmeal.
“To meet with my master,” Ara replied as though a given, and you froze.
“No!” you protested, causing her to flinch at your loud erupt. “Tell him I’m not going to meet up with him nor do I ever want to see him again! Even if I die here, I don’t ever want to see him again. I will find a way out myself and I will escape from this place. This, you can tell him.”
“My master assumed that you’d react this way, so he wants you to know that if you meet up with him tonight, he will tell you how your family is doing.”
Your stomach hollowed and not only from hunger as dread filled the empty space and your fingers gripped the sheets, tensely. You suddenly felt so sick at the thought of what he could do to your family out there if he really was so powerful. Would it now always be like this? That he would threaten and you had to comply for the sake of your beloved ones’ safety?
“Fine.”
In the bathroom, where Ara gently scrubbed your skin with oil that smelled of meadows, massaged your scalp in calming rhythms and washed your hair with white foam, you broke out in tears again, but she didn’t say a word and let you cry in silence. At home, bathing was a luxury you were only able to enjoy once a week in a small wooden basin.
Your homesickness came in waves, especially in the evenings when you missed the warm body of your little sister pressed into you from behind, the bed way too small for the both of you, but she was always refusing to sleep at your mother’s side on the bigger mattress as she felt too old for that already.
When Ara dried your body and hair, you were still weeping, but her careful yet comfortable treatment made it all a bit more bearable.
____
“Have a seat, little rose.”
The god was seated at the head on the far end of the long table, and although your set of plate and cutlery were placed right next to his, you seated yourself on a chair opposite of him where you were the farthest away. Immediately, a servant came by to relocate the tableware.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t you like that name?” he asked, arrogantly feigning offense. “I think it matches very well with you. A flower from earth, looking and smelling so beautifully, but bearing sharp thorns that she’s not afraid to use.”
At first, you were confident to interpret his words as an insult, but when you repeated them in your head once more, you weren’t sure whether they leaned more towards a compliment as there was something in his tone that gave the impression, and it irritated you very much.
“Why have you moved away from me?” The god leniently crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back on his chair, no crown adorning his hair this time. “You don’t have to be afraid. If I wanted to hurt you, you would surely not sit here now, invited to dine with me.”
“Afraid?” You frowned at him and lifted your chin. “I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t want to be near you for your own sake, in case I want to stab you. Though depending on what you have to tell me about my family, I can’t guarantee it won’t still happen.”
Amusement played around the god’s lips in the form of a smug smile, your answer apparently surprising him entirely. “You’re a very interesting one, little rose, I must admit.”
“Is that why I’m here? Because you find me interesting?”
The servant placed a napkin on your lap, causing your mouth to water already. You were dreaming of a feast consisting of meat, potatoes, vegetables and fruits. At home, those things were rarely served together, but you assumed that in a palace as huge as this, it was something you could look forward to for dinner.
In such a rare moment, you allowed yourself to be greedy. Mutedly begging for apology, you thought that if it stayed in your head only like all the other things you had sinned for, it wouldn’t taint your image anymore. Nobody had to know if you didn’t voice it out or act on it obviously.
“I find many things interesting.” The god snipped his fingers and you flinched. “But boring humans don’t belong to that category.”
“Yet, you stole one of these boring humans away to make her your bride.”
The next moment, another servant opened the door and brought in two bowls, one placed in front of him, the other in front of you. You were trying your best to hide your disappointed expression, but were sure that you failed when you saw what was in the bowl: plain porridge like the past few days and what you had nipped on shortly before. And
“Others would trade everything they have to be in your place now.”
Your fingers hovered over the cutlery, but you withdrew them again, not wanting to give in yet, despite your stomach making demanding noises that mustn’t have passed by the god himself. Either this was his way of subtly punishing you while you were residing here, but that wouldn’t explain why he didn’t eat something else in front of you. Or this was the only food served in the underworld. Neither assumption satisfied you.
“I’m not like others. I’m not a boring simpleton. I have responsibilities, a family to take care of. How can I reside here in peace when my family cannot even afford a life without me?”
“Because now they can,” he replied simply.
You tilted her head in confusion. “What?”
“Let me assure you that your family has been taken care of. The day I brought you here, they were greatly supplied with a chest consisting of pure gold that will last them their lifetime and the generations after them.”
You shuddered visibly, having no intention to pay weight to his words. “That’s not the main reason. How am I supposed to reside in this palace and live carefreely when I cannot be certain my family is healthy and happy every day, when I’m not there to witness how they do without me?”
“Such a peculiar way of thinking, I have never encountered this before,” he carefully said. “The humans who trade and bargain with us gods just to get the same privileges as you never look back, not even the ones who hadn’t decided on their own to enter the godly realms. When they see what kind of lifestyle awaits them here, they fold instantly. But you aren’t so selfish. You’re right. You’re no ‘such’ mortal. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked a flower with thorns like you, little rose.”
“Then set me free.” You glared at him across the table. “My family doesn’t care about gold or money. We just want to be together.”
He pursed his lips and sighed. “As I said, it’s difficult.”
“I don’t trust you,” you eventually pressed through gritted teeth, resting your fingers on the edge of the bowl, then pushing the porridge away from you. “I don’t believe anything you say.”
He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table in preparation to speak with his attention only on you. “I have no reason to lie to you, but I also won’t force you to trust me. I’m just telling you that I understand if you’re wary, considering the circumstances.”
“Then tell me why you keep me captured,” you demanded again, suppressing your surprise over his honesty.
“And then you will eat?” You didn’t understand why he even cared in the first place if the porridge wasn’t poisoned, but agreed with a slight nod just to get the reply out of him. “Fine. You’re here, because I need a wife to keep me company. I can offer you everything a female human could ever dream of - a luxurious home with endless space, dresses in all colors under the rainbow, delicious food that doesn’t even grow on earth, and gold to fulfill all your further needs.”
You gulped visibly, but held his gaze. So the porridge truly was punishment only, physically and emotionally. “That’s… that’s all?”
He shrugged, not touching his bowl either, you noticed. “Truth to be told, I thought it would be easier according to the stories I’ve been told. Other gods own harems full of humans who live lavish lifestyles until all eternity.”
“So I heard,” you retorted, utterly grossed out.
“I also admit that, apparently, I know nothing about humans.” A smile tugged on the corner of his lips that quickly evaporated again. Or had it only been in your imagination? “Certainly not about ones like you.”
You cocked a brow. “Humans like me?”
“Strong-willed, demanding, determined. Either I am very lucky in choosing you as my wife. Or rather unfortunate. We’re going to figure it out, right?”
“Again, I am not going to be your wife.” When he didn’t make a move to add something, you asked, “That’s all? That’s why I’m here? Because you needed a wife and I was just… there?”
Frankly, the god apparently didn’t know what else to tell you, what you wanted to hear from him. Did you know yourself, though? What kind of explanation did you expect to make you understand your current situation better?
“That’s all.”
With a start, you jumped out of your seat, the chair making squealing noises as you pushed it along the marbled floor. You glared at him so deathly, it would possibly make every other god fear your presence. But he didn’t budge.
“I’d rather die.”
____
“My master wanted me to bring you here, because he assumed you would feel a bit better in an environment resembling your home.”
A few more days had passed without you having to meet the god again, plain porridge being brought by Ara directly to your room, assuring you that real food was still being withheld from you, but you also didn’t want to ask and cave. You weren’t crying every day anymore, either because there were no tears left or because you knew it was for vain.
You hadn’t entirely given up though. The god and Ara both had implied that there was a way for you to return. Even if it might be almost impossible, almost was not entirely. But if neither of them were going to tell or show you how, you would rather figure it out yourself than sit here in captivity and boredom if either possibility would result in you not seeing your family ever again.
So it was a lucky coincidence that Ara had brought you to the palace’s garden, and you would lie if you said that you weren’t in the least bit impressed about it, because it had everything you had ever dreamed of growing and tending back at home.
You stood there, on green grass with your fine slippers, feeling every soily bump beneath your soles, and what you encountered amazed you very much. Patterned throughout the grass were different paths made of cobblestone, passing by rose bushes, colorful flower beds, perfectly trimmed hedges and marble statues that all came together in the middle of the location where a fountain made of limestone stood out, water splashing all around.
“This is magnificent!” you called out and followed the path that led to the center, the entire colorful and playful setting building a stark contrast to the red sky, but this was what made it insanely beautiful too, you had to admit. “I didn’t know something would be able to grow here!” Since you had been brought to the underworld, there was finally something that remotely awoke interest inside of you and let you push your pain and despair to the back of your head only for a little while.
“Contrary to popular belief, we can also grow fruits and vegetables here. See?”
Ara pointed at a tree that you were passing, red pomegranates hanging from the branches. After weeks of nearly tasteless porridge that was supposed to break your iron will, only the image of the crimson seeds caused your mouth to water immediately. They had been withholding this from you all along? The things you would have done just to taste something different were unimaginable, and you stretched out your hand, reaching for the fruit. You were just so hungry…
“Careful!” Ara warned you.
You reclined your hand, alarmed. “What is it?”
“Seven seeds.” A manly vice from behind you let you jump. “Seven seeds only, and you’ll be stuck here forever. Take one and you won’t be able to stop, because they taste so ungraspable wonderfully on a human tongue. Everything growing in the underworld will bind you to this realm and you will never be able to return to earth ever again.” The god walked towards you both and Ara did a curtsy while you refused to copy her greeting. “Thank you for bringing her here, you’re dismissed, Ara.”
You were petrified when a thought slowly sank in while the servant left you both alone. “But I’ve been eating-”
“Mortal food all along,” the god clarified. Today, he was dressed more casually and wasn’t wearing a crown like the last time you had met, you silently remarked. “That’s why you were served plain oats only. At least they always taste the same. Everything else we bring down here from earth rots right away. They’re living things, not made for death.”
You looked at the pomegranate tree, then back at him. You had been served porridge from your first day on before you even met, and a few days ago, he had been served the same dish as you, hadn’t he? Why? “You could have easily fed me these all along, and I wouldn’t have known. Why haven’t you?”
“I decide over the fates of the dead humans, not the living. I guess I always wanted to give you a choice, no matter how slim this chance might be. Deep inside, I assume I just couldn’t take someone against their will entirely.” His honesty bewildered you. That was not what he had indicated the first time you talked. “Even if you’re a human, you always have a choice. Even now you do.”
“I haven’t been given the choice whether I wanted to come down here,” you spoke monotonously, shaking off the expression he directed at you that nearly bordered sympathy.
The god lifted his hand and plucked a pomegranate from the tree. Twisting it apart and presenting the red seeds in equal halves to you, your tongue instantly lusted after the taste of the fruit’s delicious flesh. You had only tasted pomegranate seeds once in your life, back then when you had saved enough money to buy a half from a piepowder. But you still remembered that moment very well, because it was so special.
“I was probably too naive as I have never been to the mortal world myself. I could only rely on what the other gods told me, and they all said the same thing.”
“Which was?” You averted your eyes from the pomegranate halves before you went insane from hunger.
“That humans would do anything to live in the godly realms, leeching off everything they were offered, such as luxury and eternal youth. That humans are simpletons you could control, could do anything with.” He clearly saw you gulping, which was probably why he quickly added, “But I only wanted a wife, so I took my sweet time making a decision that day. A wrong and hasty decision after all, as it turned out that I’m the simpleton here.” He plucked the seeds from the pomegranate halves and placed them into his hand. You counted seven. Then, he squeezed his palm together, red juice dripping from his fingers onto the soil, staining it like blood. “You better make sure not to go near these in case your craving makes you go crazy.”
To weigh yourself in better safety, you turned your face away from him. “How do I get away from here? Tell me.”
The god drew in a sharp breath. “Someone must get you. Someone from earth must come down here and take you back.”
You got a feeling you didn’t want to know the details to that “And how would they do that?”
To that, he didn’t seem to have a specific answer. “I cannot tell you as I don’t know exactly myself. I heard that there are ways humans can actually summon certain gods, and depending who they are able to reach, they might help if they’re in the mood. The god of the sea demands a human offering for example, but the god of the wind on the other hand just doesn't want his mortal companion to speak a single word all the way to our realms.”
“Why would they do that to humans?” you called out in frustration. “That’s madness!”
“To bargain with a god is a very dangerous game that they love to play all day long. Humans are pawns to them, a mere distraction to their boring lives.” A touch of snideness swung with his explanation that you couldn’t classify yet and thus dismissed.
“And what would you demand to bring humans here if you don’t take them against their will?”
The god rolled his pupils, his patience seemingly still not wearing out while you just wouldn’t let go of this topic when he replied full with regained composure, “Nobody ever did that, it’s quite not possible since my kingdom is separated from the mortal realms. But the gods of the elements or other parts of the earth are always there.”
“So that means… My mother and my sister have to find their own way to come down here. And depending on who they can reach out to, they either face an impossible quest or death?”
“Not very positively worded, but right.” He shrugged. “I guess so. Of course this applies to any human who would search for you, not only to them.”
“And before that happens, I will need to stay here?”
“That’s correct.”
When you sucked in a rush of air, he braced himself for an outburst, but you only asked with a threatening calmness, “Why me?”
For such a question, the god apparently wasn’t prepared well enough. And even if… you were sure his answer wouldn’t have changed from the following dissatisfying one, “As I said, I was given the chance to wander the earth for a day and choose a wife.”
“That’s not what I meant. I asked ‘Why me?’ What did I do? Why not someone else?”
For the first time, you got the impression that you had taken him off guard as he raised his brows, not to talk back haughtily, but because he was genuinely confused and didn’t know how to answer. “Why… you? I can’t exactly say why you…”
“So, the fact that I’m here is merely a coincidence?” There was a sharp edge to the way you uttered these words, and you nearly felt sorry. Nearly.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he patiently defended himself in that situation. “It was still my own decision. But the reason…”
“Be quiet! I have never been given a choice!” You laid your palms flat against his chest, pushing him away from you while anger burned beneath your skin like fever. He stumbled backwards although he could fight you easily. But he didn’t. “You have robbed me of that decision the day you stole me away! You have only fed me mortal food to satisfy your own conscience, but I have never been given a choice in the first place! Don’t talk to me like you actually respect humans, because you don’t!”
You saw him startled as if he were human too, a natural, human reaction, and that fueled your anger even more. “But if someone comes to-”
“Nobody will come to get me!” you yelled. “Nobody will come, because my mother and sister aren’t able to! I only have them, no one else! I’ll be stuck here, and all because of you! I have no free will! You have chosen the only human with no choice at all!”
You spun around on your heel and left the garden with him not following suit. And you were glad about it as the first tears started to fall again.
______
You spent your days restlessly wandering through the entire palace and the connecting garden, with no real destination other than the intention of wanting to make time pass in hope something life-alternating would happen. But it never did.
You rarely saw the god and you were grateful for that, only remaining in contact with Ara and the other servants. But despite them trying their best, they weren’t able to fill the gap your family had left. With each passing day, the hole inside of you grew larger. And with each passing day, you wondered how much bigger it must still grow until it made you end this once and for all.
Once again, you were standing in the garden, listening to the stream while having to watch the god cross the bridge every morning and evening to ride somewhere past the horizon as you started to notice a few days ago. You had never asked him about where he was going even though you were very curious about what laid beyond the river. If you wanted to find out though…
“I wouldn’t even think about it,” you heard an unknown male voice talk behind you that wasn’t as deep as this palace’s owner. “That’s the river of oblivion. Once you fall into it, you forget where you are, what you are and first and foremost… who you are.”
You spun around and encountered a man only a bit shorter than the god of this place with flaming, dark red hair, donned in all black with golden embellishments. You had never seen him here before, and his glamorous garments as well as sophisticated and elegant aura gave away that he was not a servant, but of a much higher status and with much power.
“Jaehyun told me that he had taken in a human to make his wife, so I wanted to see her myself.”
Jaehyun… In comparison to the god of this realm whose name was Jaehyun as you now knew, this person had a much friendlier appearance with a smile that was inviting and a voice that sounded playful. “And you are…?”
“The god of sun and light, and everything bright and pleasant. I’m very pleased to meet you, mistress.”
He stretched out his hand and took your fingers into his. Oddly, you didn’t withdraw but let him do so as you weren’t scared of him. After everything that had happened to you these past weeks, you felt numb to almost everything.
You sucked in a rush of air though as he lifted your hand and led it to his lips, pressing a kiss on our knuckles and causing you to gasp in surprise. It was not your first physical interaction with a man apart from your family, but the first with no ulterior motif from either side, a chaste and respectful gesture. You were taken aback and impressed at the same time.
“I must admit… if I were Jaehyun, I would have chosen you as well.”
You were flattered, but not impressed. “It doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like being here.”
“After all this time you still think like this?” He raised his brows. “I’m impressed. Every other mortal would have caved already.”
“Well… I’m not like them.”
“Obviously.” He tilted his head and smiled again. “Have you ever tried getting accustomed to this place? It’s not as boring as it looks like. Especially beyond the river. Even though I prefer the light, this darkness has something comforting, I must admit.”
“Enough, Taeyong,” another male voice cut through the air that you knew very well. “I didn’t invite you here today to put ideas into her head.”
“Even I see her potential, Jaehyun,” your new acquaintance talked back immediately. “Take her with you to the ha-”
“I said enough,” the god interrupted. “She has expressed more than once that she wants to go home, so if you don’t have a solution for that, I would rather have you stay quiet.”
“What is there?” you urged the sun god to speak, suddenly full of hope again. “What is beyond the river?”
But it was the underworld’s god that answered instead, “There is only death, so don’t even think about escaping through these lands. There is no way you will make it out there alive all by yourself.”
And with that, the topic was closed as he disappeared with the sun god back into the palace, leaving you behind in wonder about what there still was to this realm that you had to unravel. If you wanted to unravel that.
Later that evening, you caught Taeyong intending to leave through the main entrance, luckily all by himself. You jumped out from your den, causing him to nearly get a heart attack judging by the way he leapt back with a scream, and asked with a hushed voice,
“What is beyond the river of oblivion?”
Your fingers grabbed the sleeves of his shirt, and he leaned in to you, replying with an equally low tone, “He’s right, there is only death. But that is probably what you are looking for.”
And with another smile, he left through the gates, having opened up more questions than actually having answered one.
____
“Where are you going?”
Jaehyun cocked his head to the side on his way out of the palace when he got surprised by you in the entrance hall the next day. “Underworld duties.”
“Take me with you,” you demanded, noticing that he was formally dressed and wearing his crown again as always when he left the palace. “It’s where you always leave to, right? Take me with you.”
He frowned. “What?”
“You heard me very well. I want to come with you,” you repeated and approached him until you stood right in front of him, already fully dressed in a cloak that Ara had pulled out of the closet for you. “Take me with you.”
He looked down at you, then let out an ambiguous chuckle. “You think if I take you with me out there, you will find a way to escape? You can put that idea right out of your mind. As a mortal, there are more gruesome fates than falling into the river of oblivion that will await you when you roam out there freely all by yourself. This is the underworld, after all.”
It didn’t pass by you that he, for the first time, used the term ’mortals’, not ‘humans’, a fine but significant difference. You wondered whether not all gods and sprites and whatever creatures also resided here were immortal. And if he was immortal too.
It was as though he could read everything shooting through your mind at that moment. Skepticism, anger, disappointment, then again, hope. He had seen right through you. But perhaps not entirely though as there was something he hadn’t discovered yet: the slight seed of curiosity that had been planted by the god of sun yesterday.
What was beyond the river that you were supposedly looking for?
“Still,” you brought yourself to say and clenched your fists, moving your feet in restlessness. “Take me with you. What am I supposed to do here all day, all by myself?”
“No,” the god roared, deep and dominant, and you actually withdrew in response to his suppressed outburst. Regret turned visible in his expression as though he hadn’t intended to sound so harsh as he continued gentler, “No mortal has ever roamed the grounds of hell, and I won’t be the first one to allow one to do so.”
But you wouldn’t give in so easily. “Take me with you nonetheless!” You took a few steps forward until you stood right in front of him and with your fists, you now hammered against his chest. “Take. Me. With. You!”
Coming down at his strong muscles with your hands over and over again, it felt like striking against those palace stone walls, sharp pain shooting up to your shoulders with each forceful motion, and it made you even madder. You now screamed, wanting your way and letting your anger and despair all out - but he withstood it all.
Even when you exhausted yourself, you didn’t give up, even when your motions grew slower and sloppier, your breathing more irregular. That was until he caught your striking fists with his palms, stopping your rebelling behavior with a single grip, obviously fed up now. His hands were so big in comparison to yours, and so unexpectedly warm and strong too.
“You done?” the god asked relaxedly when you had finally stopped fidgeting.
You had your teeth bared, glaring at him, but you weren't physically fighting anymore. Your chest heaved up and down, in unison with his, and for a moment, you both had your gazes locked, surveying each other until a smile raised the corners of his mouth, and it wasn’t in the least bit mocking.
You became aware of the fact that the god was still holding your hands, but it was something entirely else from when the sun god had taken yours into his. They were both gestures with different intentions, but somehow, this one caused your cheeks to heat and change color, and additionally, your heart to skip half a beat.
With feigned disgust, you scowled and shook him off, then hid your arms behind your back in the safety of the cloak.
“I’ll get the horse prepared for two people.” The god looked at you for a second too long, which irritated you very much, then spun around. You didn’t know what had made him change his mind, but in the end, it didn’t matter. “Pull up the hood and make sure to protect your face at all times. The ride can get really dusty.”
As you followed him outside, there was a black-maned horse waiting for you both. You stood behind him, intimidated and amazed by the enormous animal at the same time.
“Immortal horses are fascinating, aren’t they?” he asked you. “Every god owns at least one divinely-bred.”
He swung upon the horse’s back after a servant had saddled it properly for two, moving backwards to leave more space in the front. The next moment, he had grabbed you by your waist and heaved you on the horse’s back like you weighed nothing. Luckily, your skirts were wide enough for you to settle your legs on either side of the animal.
The god then hauled you against his chest with one swift motion, his strong forearm pressed into your upper stomach. Before you could snap for air, he loosened his grip on you again, but left his hand resting right under your ribcage, always on the alert to secure your position if you tended to teeter too much to one side. You swallowed hard as the horse started galloping, and before you could notice, the both of you had already crossed the dangerous bridge with its eerie turquoise water, snippets flashing by that you only caught from the corner of your periphery under your wide hood.
You knew your attention shouldn’t be on the main rider’s free hand gripping hard on the reins that made his veins pop out and your thoughts spinning with fantasies you had never had of him before, but you couldn’t turn your thoughts away from it either. Pleasant goosebumps ran all down your spine whenever you lost your balance for a second and his strong arm around your middle reared you right back.
You didn’t want this. Of course, as a young woman, you had needs and also a fair share of past experiences, but none of it had ever surfaced since you were residing here.
Until now.
____
While you were riding along the rolling plains, you came to a terrifying solution: The redness of the sky didn’t come from the sun and neither from another natural source of light in the underworld that would resemble a planet back up there on earth. In fact, they came from fields far out there close to the horizon. These fields were burning, flames ascending to the sky whose tips you only witnessed when you passed and eventually came to a stop close by.
“These are the torture fields,” the god told you. “It’s where souls reside who I refuse to let be reborn. As you might have figured by now, it’s why our sky is always red. The flames never diminish, they only get concealed by the god of sky during night time upon my request.”
“Why did you request for him to conceal it?”
“The red sky reminds me of what I’m doing, what my destiny as the god of the underworld is. If I can request for a few hours of peace where I’m not reminded of the souls on the torture fields that I sent down there myself, that I am the one causing this red sky, I would do anything for it.”
It was the second time he willingly let you take a quick glance behind his facade, his cold and dark exterior. You wondered whether there was still way more you would need to discover. But would you really want to?
“What’s the fate of those on these torture fields?” you asked instead.
“Imagine the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Maybe you have once broken a bone or sustained a similar fracture. Now, that’s not even the full extent of pain a human is able to feel. Multiply it by a thousand. That’s close to the pain you have to endure day and night, for all eternity. Frightening, isn’t it?”
Frightening didn’t even come close to describe the lump in your throat right now. A cold shudder ran down your spine despite you putting much effort into not letting your true emotions slip. “Do they literally burn there on the fields?”
“Something like that, yes. If you listen carefully, little rose, you can even hear their screams. My palace is located too far away, but right now, we’re close enough to hear their faint noises.” He brought the horse to a halt and gave you a sign to remain silent as well. “Listen.”
You did. From the direction of the torture fields, you heard a feeble clamor as though someone was constantly pressing on a piano’s keyboard, and the tone never subsided. It was a very faint sound, but so eerie that it made the hair on your arms stand up. You imagined pain so gravely, you were never able to stop screaming in agony despite the exhaustion. For all eternity.
“Don’t worry, little rose,” the god reassured you, and you didn’t flinch when he soothingly nudged your side. It had something calming to it. “Someone like you won’t ever land on the torture fields.”
You wished you could believe him and gulped, hard. “What kind of souls would find their fate here?”
“Murderers mostly, to summon it up. But I decide over all their fates individually, so it might also be possible that someone has committed a grave crime that doesn’t include murder and still ends up on the torture fields. And vice versa.”
You had been holding in your breath and only noticed when you let out a rush of air. “I see.”
“Why are you so tense, little rose?” the god expressed his concern that seemed genuine to you. “Someone as pure as you and with a heart as strong as yours would surely get another chance at life.”
“You don’t know me,” you answered repellently, but didn’t shake off his hand that had magically found its way on your shoulder as though he wanted to comfort you physically like a human, but didn’t exactly know how. “You know nothing about me, you cannot tell.”
“That’s true. But I cannot imagine you being a human who deserves to experience endless torture, and I’ve been with my duties for way longer than I can remember.”
“Perhaps, there are times where even you will get surprised.” It was intended to be a joke, but your dry voice didn’t make the sentence sound like one, which was why you added a light, choking laughter.
“What could you have possibly done? Slept with someone before marriage? Screw that, just have fun. Stolen groceries? A peccadillo, nothing grave to be noted down, and even minuscule when you were poor and suffering from hunger. What else? Hurt someone? Most people only physically hurt when they feel threatened or have been hurt themselves before. I could tell you many, many more examples that won’t justify a destiny on the torture fields for you.”
You weren’t an appropriate girl in any sense as you had done all of the things he listed, and even many more. Feeling bound to your family for your whole life, you had never quite treasured your virginity until marriage like every other girl and had had way too much fun in the miller’s barn with his eldest son before you came here. Whenever you seemed short of groceries, you had developed a few tricks where letting fruits and vegetables slip into your bag during market visits always went unnoticed. And you randomly and happily thought back to the time you had once smacked a boy who had made fun of your sister and your situation.
And the god of the underworld wanted to tell you that these were all still justifiable?
“No human is untainted, free of sins, little rose,” he continued. “But that doesn’t make every person a bad one. As a matter of fact, the majority are good people, and I can sense them from a mile away. You’re not a bad person who deserves to endure agony for eternity.”
You rather let him believe for as long as he could.
Though he added, “Everything will come out in the hall of judgment anyway.”
“The hall of judgment?” you asked carefully.
“Where we’re headed to now. That’s where I comply with my duties as the god of the underworld.” As though he noticed your disarray, he added with an edge, “You wanted to come with me, right? So be prepared for that.”
Nothing could have prepared you for what was about to come next.
____
The hall of judgment was a massive cave rather than an actual hall in the semi-darkness of a mountain range that had the river of oblivion flow through. The hollowed ceiling was carried by large pillars merging seamlessly with the stony inside, a long carpet indicating the way. There were only several candles alit, the flames mirrored and broken in the river that threw the reflected lighting into all directions.
You were sitting next to the god on a throne of which you were unsure whether it had been there for your entire stay already as he had initially intended you to be his wife. Nonetheless, it made you feel inquisitive and intimidating at the same time, as though you didn’t belong there but couldn’t request being placed elsewhere either.
“This is where the souls face me, where I decide about their fate. And today, you will assist me,” the god explained after he had settled next to you.
“Assist you?” You weren’t repressed, but rather intrigued about what was going to happen here.
“You’re not going to watch me only, you’re going to judge yourself, whether you send a soul into the river of oblivion from where they will start a new life or send them to the torture fields for eternal pain.”
You frowned, full of suspicion whether you had heard right. “Pardon me? I will decide about their fate? Me?”
“Exactly,” he confirmed with a proud smile.
You raised a brow, but didn’t refuse instantly, to your very own surprise too. “How do I know what happened to them?”
“They will tell you.”
“And if they don’t speak the truth?”
“In the hall of judgment, you are only allowed to speak the truth, otherwise you cannot answer.”
You had many more questions, but since you had already delayed your arrival, you decided to remain silent and just watch. You trusted him to tell you what to do and when to do, and until then, you would only observe. To your clear surprise, a human in its physical shape walked in the next moment, a young boy, not even ten years of age just yet. Just like your sister.
“They all remain in their human form so as to not shock them,” the god explained quietly while the boy made its way towards you. “They will lose their physical shape once I make my judgment, but by then, they won’t remember anymore.”
Your expression changed from perplexity to empathy when you encountered the state the young boy was in, ragged clothes, no shoes. He explained that he came right from the streets, having lived there for a few years already.
The child was nervously kneading his wrinkled hat in his hands as he stuttered, “M-my father died overseas w-when I was only a baby. My- my mother was the sole one t-to get us through the first years. U-until we ran out of money. Sh-she died shortly after and I… I had to start living on the streets a-all by myself.”
“For how many years did you live on the streets?” you asked empathically, not knowing whether you were even allowed to, but it didn’t matter to you at this point. You felt so much sympathy for him, your heart ached.
The boy dropped his head. “Three years.”
You gasped inaudibly, not wanting to unsettle the boy. Instead, you forced yourself to smile, the sorrow undertone hidden by concealing happiness. “You did well. For your age, you did so well. You can be proud of yourself. Your mother surely is too.”
“C-can I ask how did I die?”
“You slept in peacefully and didn’t wake up,” you started, and the god frowned, but didn’t interrupt you, which you appreciated. ”It was really cold, but it didn’t bother you, because for you, it felt like a warm blanket that you got enveloped in. Perhaps, almost like the one in your former home with which your mom would tuck you in. Did you have something like that?”
With sparkles in his eyes, the boy nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I remember!”
“Very well. That moment, you dreamed back to your warm house where there were the three of you. You died peacefully, engulfed in a dream that felt like reality.”
The boy started crying, and you wanted to get up with the intention of offering him a comforting embrace, but the god’s hand latched out onto yours, holding you back. Locking your gazes, he shook his head and you slowly settled back on your throne. “Dead souls cannot be touched,” he whispered only for you to hear. “Otherwise they are doomed to wander these lands forever as nightmarish creatures.”
“W-what w-ill m-m-my judgment b-be?” the boy hiccuped as you shifted your attention back to him.
You held yourself back this time to leave the decision to the god himself, but he remained quiet, only giving you a squeeze with his fingers that were still covering yours, both of your hands lying on your side of the armrest. Then, he nodded encouragingly.
So you spoke softly, “You will get to leave this miserable life behind. You will get to start a new life. You don’t have to suffer anymore.”
“Thank you.”
And while he was still expressing his gratitude, the god caught you shedding some light tears yourself, but you were smiling throughout them in all honesty, because you were so happy that the little boy wouldn’t need to continue living in a world that had been so cruel to him.
When the boy followed a servant to the outside after the god had officially pronounced the sentence that you had decided on, he started explaining, “The moment they step into the hall, I know their backstories, I have to tell you. They only explain their own opinion and point of view to me. Since you don’t have that privilege, I let them tell their backstories too. For the little boy, he actually died wh-”
“No,” you declined determinedly, emphasized by the shake of your head. “I don’t want to know. Perhaps, you don’t understand, but I’m not immune to feelings unlike you who has been doing this for so long. There is only so much I can take in and carry before every single story will break me apart over and over again. Perhaps, it’s better this way, safer. I want to stand by the stories I tell them.”
“I’m not immune either.” The look you shared that followed was something between surprise and a mutual understanding, until he followed up, “So you want to remain?”
“I want to remain.”
In a gesture of encouragement, he squeezed your hand again, only now realizing that he hadn’t let go of it all along and that you hadn’t shaken him off, either.
____
By the evening, the god of the underworld had pronounced the sentence to all souls, you only chiming in when it was a case you could relate to, a case which needed a more emotional approach. In the beginning, it had been an overwhelming feeling for you, holding one’s destiny in your hands as the god of the underworld complied to all the judgments you made without a word of protest.
It made you feel… powerful. And helpful, equally. You were able to take the pain away from these sad souls and plant a more pleasant last memory of their former life into their invisible hearts. No matter the real circumstances of their deaths, you always spun stories more pleasant for their ears, so the majority of souls were allowed to jump into the pool of oblivion, looking forward to a new life.
“My wife killed me, that bitch.” A middle-aged man spat in front of the dais later that day. “I should have taken her with me.”
You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your thigh as you pricked up your ears. It was late already, and you started to get exhausted which was why the god had suggested going home after this case. Though this case would turn out way more different than the ones before, you could solely tell by looking at the man.
His obvious rampant demeanor had caught your attention right away, so you asked calmly, “Tell me in detail, what did you do to your wife?”
"Nothing!" he defended himself loudly. “I did no-”
You remembered that no one was able to lie in the hall of judgment which was apparently why no tone came out of his mouth anymore despite him continuing blabbering. You averted your eyes to your right, wanting to know how the god would react.
You didn’t expect anything less than the following, “You really dare lie in front of the god of the underworld himself?”
“Please!” The man dropped to his knees and brought his hands together under his chin. “I did nothing wrong in my opinion!”
“How about we let your mistress decide whether you did something wrong to your wife, hm?” the god asked threateningly, his eyes narrowed.
“I only wanted to teach her a lesson,” the man pressed through gritted teeth. “If she hadn’t stayed out for so long, I wouldn’t have had to use my hands.”
Your fingers cramped around the armrests, uneasiness settling in where also nausea spread in your stomach, but the latter way faster. You already knew the end to the story before he could draw the entire outline. Again, like before when you had met cases that left you nearly breathless, the god’s palm found its way back to your hand, blanketing it, and his warmth somehow soothed your anger, restraining it. Somehow, you felt it had the same effect on him.
“How often did you hurt your wife?” you wanted to hear from the man.
“As often as I needed to.” There was no remorse in his voice. “Wives have to be obedient to their husbands, and if they aren’t, we have to remind them of our higher position.”
Anger burned in your veins, the knuckles on your fingers turning white, and even the god’s reassuring gesture could not hold you back from what you were about to say next anymore, “So you think lowly of women because we are female?”
“It’s what nature prescribes!” the man yelled.
“Do you have children?” you interrogated further, your fingers shaking by now. You were so close to jumping off your seat and physically taking it upon yourself.
“My wife never gifted me with one,” he tsk-ed. “Another task in which she has failed me as a woman.”
A growl was collecting on your tongue, and you nearly let the sound slip if it weren’t for the god cutting you off, “And yet, after your death, you stand in front of one. And this very one is deciding about your fate today.”
“Oh?” The man took a step back. “Forgive me, I haven’t known.”
“How about you tell your mistress about the child you deemed unfitting to continue living, no matter how hard it was for your wife to even conceive in the first place? Or the bar woman you impregnated instead, but chased away because you rather wanted to spend the money on alcohol? Or the rich man you once robbed and killed, all in one night?”
You didn’t need to put a second thought into your decision. He sounded exactly like the kind of man your father had been - ruthless, selfish, and so full of apathy, your chest swelled to the point of exploding.
“To the torture fields with him.”
It was the first time for you to use these words, you didn’t recognize your own voice.
____
You sent a man to the torture fields and you enjoyed it.
Even after returning to the palace, you still weren’t able to digest the latest happenings. Again. And again, like in the past, you didn’t feel any remorse afterwards. You felt satisfaction even.
“Is it always like this?” you asked when you stood in the entrance hall of the dark palace. “This lingering feeling of…”
“... satisfaction.” A slight smirk was playing around the god’s lips when he looked at your eager expression. “Yes. It absolutely is.”
“Wow,” you breathed, overwhelmed by so much power you had never imagined of ever possessing. “But… what if I made the wrong decision?”
Was that what the sun god had wanted you to see? A side inside of you that you had repressed for so long? The potential you offered when you were sitting on the throne right next to the god of the underworld?
“There is no right or wrong in the hall of judgment. There is only one truth. And the truth in that case was that you passed judgment on someone who deserved their fate.” He inhaled deeply before breaking down to you, “That is why I want to offer you the throne next to mine.”
Your head snatched upwards and you drew your brows together in suspicion. “What are you saying?”
“I offer you the title ‘the queen of the underworld’,” he repeated more clearly, gaze unwavering but not inscrutable. He meant every single syllable, no underlying joke in his voice, the smirk entirely gone and his dark eyes clear.
“I’m not going to be your wife,” you declined immediately again, your voice failing you though, and you were afraid he’d notice.
“I don’t want you to become my wife in that sense if you find that thought so repulsive.” There was a chuckle simultaneously rolling from his tongue. “I offer you the position of the queen of the underworld. I offer you half my kingdom, a throne next to mine and a crown made of darkness, just like mine.”
You stood in front of him, feeling very lost at that moment, but also very intrigued. The words that he uttered, you had never dared to even take them into your mouth, let alone speaking them out. “I-” You opened your mouth, but no refusal came out this time.
You wanted to reason with your mother and sister, but living here had made you realize that they were probably better off without you if they were going to get taken care of with gold to last generations. If you would ever get the chance to return to earth, you would need to get married to someone you probably loathed and lived a boring life as a housewife.
Then, you wanted to argue with the fact that you missed the sun, nature, flowers and everything earth offered to you. But did you really? On earth, flowers withered at the end of every summer, months of coldness dominating your part of the world for the majority of the year. You started to question whether you would have lived a fulfilling life if you had continued like this, only looking forward to spring and rotting away in boredom when the world got blanketed with snow, fighting for survival, year after year.
Here in the underworld, there were no such things as seasons. The darkness might have appeared threatening at the beginning, but you had slowly started to grow accustomed to the different lightning and the constant pleasant temperature. By now, you had also found beauty in the absolute darkness of the night and the sunset-like sky during daytime.
A conflict spread out inside of you that you had never imagined of ever leading. Had you already found your true fate back then on earth or have you always been destined for more in another world?
“You only want me to stay because you feel lonely, that’s why you’re offering me the throne,” was your feeble attempt of rejection. “But I’m not like you, Jaehyun. I cannot live this life here.”
“You are very much like me, little rose,” Jaehyun corrected with a growing, new smile you couldn’t define, and then reminded you, ”Did you forget that destiny doesn’t only mean endless torture? The little boy who you sent into the river of oblivion, he will get the chance to start a new life, leaving the one behind in which he only experienced sorrow and suffering. How did you feel at that moment? Didn’t you feel helpful, relieved or even happy for him? Because that’s what will also be required of you as the queen of the underworld. You’re an executor and a savior both at the same time. You’ll be the most powerful queen to ever exist.”
“T-tell me,” you stuttered, “t-tell me the truth. That day… it might have been a coincidence that you were near me, but what made you choose me?”
It couldn’t have been a coincidence only. There must be more to it. There must be a reason you were here now, a sign that this was your fate for which you had always been destined. It would give you the ultimate assurance, a reason less to doubt your entire existence.
“Aren’t you one sneaky little thing, my rose? I wanted to tell you that day already, but you weren’t ready to hear.” Jaehyun stretched out his hand and let the tip of his index finger run along your chin. You shuddered - in full pleasure so obvious, he must have felt it too. And he must have also felt your disappointment when he withdrew his hand again. “Before you appeared here… I mean, before I stole you - pardon me - I was very lonely. So I asked for one day on earth to search for a fitting wife as I haven’t found one among my own kind. But who I got drawn to, precisely by their sugary scent that even overshadowed the flowers and morning dew wrapped pollen on the fingers, wasn’t a timid daisy in a bed full of asters. It was a rose itself who harbored thorns, and I believe, deep within, I knew all along that I finally found someone not only fit to warm my bed, but to reign alongside me. Seldomly have I met someone so strong-willed and fierce like you, lest a mortal. If you decide against the crown of immortal flowers that I offer you, it will be really unfortunate for me as I paid a huge price for getting you.”
You gulped. “...Which price?”
“I will never be allowed on earth again.”
You understood why he wanted a companion as you couldn’t imagine living at such a huge place all by yourself either. The corridors were long, dark and branched, servants strictly following their duties and always keeping their distance to their master despite him treating them respectfully. Then, there were the endless rolling plains with nothing but dust and nightmarish creatures. The darkness from the underworld must have taken over his heart a long time ago as well, and he was looking for a glimmer of light.
You just weren’t sure whether you were the right one. He hadn’t been able to give you the entire reassurance you still needed.
“That’s unfortunate,” you brought yourself to say eventually. “But I can’t.”
A strand of your hair got lifted up, and he twirled it around his finger, observing it closely and seemingly enjoying the softness that curled around his skin. You had never seen him so at your mercy and apologetic before. “I only had one chance that would define my own destiny which will last an eternity. If I made the wrong choice in selecting you, I am deeply sorry. If there was more that I could tell you, I would. But there isn’t. You were there, and I wanted you. Why don’t you want me too, little rose?”
Your breathing came in hitches. “What would that make me, Jaehyun?”
Leaving your family behind to live in sin here in the underworld. It would make you an outcast, someone expelled from society, someone with no dignity. But then again, when had you ever been someone who was worth more on earth? Weren’t you exactly where you were supposed to be, where darkness reigned like the one which occupied your heart ever since that fateful day a century ago?
Jaehyun’s hand was now on the side of your face, and you fought the urge to nestle against his palm. You relished the feeling the tip of his thumb made when he brushed it over your cheek though, and you wanted more of it, all over your body precisely. You just knew it would be entirely different than what you had experienced with mortal men before. But then again - what would that make you?
“It would make you a human,” Jaehyun calmed you, his expression smoothening despite the obvious threat on his throat. “Just like you are. Don’t you ever forget that. You are allowed to accept every part of you, to feel everything you’re harboring.”
“But it’s just… so hard,” you whispered, unsure what he was even talking about anymore, you being queen or the possibility of you two sharing more than the throne, but also a bed.
“You are a constellation, waiting to be explored and loved. Did any man who ever tried to court you understand that you were so much more than a maiden hidden away in her house’s backyard? Because I understand.”
There was something glittering in his eyes despite stars being absent here. You opened your lips and closed them again, fighting so hard against the need of wanting them to taste his.
“You fought so bravely against it. You can allow yourself to finally let go, little rose,” Jaehyun encouraged you with a low whisper. Again, you were questioning whether he actually meant the darkness in your heart or the need of his lips covering yours.
“I-I-...” You let out a long breath that you had been holding in this entire time and took a step back, away from him and from his alluring appearance. “I’m tired. I will return to my chambers.”
You almost stumbled over your own feet running to your chamber, setting one hasty foot after another. When you reached your room, you locked the door behind you as though you were afraid he might follow you and barge in.
As you laid in your bed shortly later, you caught yourself wishing he had done so. And you also caught yourself having naturally addressed him by his name somewhere along the way.
Like he wasn't a distant god or master anymore. But an equal.
____
“Do humans live with you?” you asked Taeyong the next day after encountering him in the garden, joking around with the servants.
Apparently, he had had a few duties close by and decided to pay the dark palace a visit. As it came to your attention through him a short while ago, Jaehyun’s palace was described as such by outsiders.
Taeyong laughed, but the smile that he forced himself to wear meanwhile wasn’t sincere. “No, I don’t support this kind of lifestyle.”
“Why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m on your side, but why does your opinion differ from the other gods?”
“The woman I love is a human, what would that make me, abusing her own kind?”
The pain in his voice couldn’t be ignored, it was too obvious, intended or unintended. But it was not the kind of pain a rejected lover would express. “So you’re in love with a mortal, I see.”
“Not just a mortal, a human,” he corrected. “We gods are all immortal, but there are other creatures such as sprites who are also otherworldly, but can indeed die, so they’re mortal. Some humans here have also gained immortality. Mortals and humans are not the same term.”
He confirmed what you had suspected all along. Finally, you understood why Jaehyun had always spoken about humans only and not about mortals when addressing your kind. It was because in the dark palace, he was the only immortal one.
“I understand. Then… tell me about her, Taeyong. What makes you so sad about her?”
“The fact that I don’t want to love her, and she doesn’t want me to love her either, but I would even give up on my immortality just to be with her. I would instantly go and trade my immortality despite a god never having done that before, and I don’t even know whether it’s possible, but if, I would in a heartbeat.”
The way he spoke about her, soft and passionate, reminded you of the way Jaehyun spoke to you lately, and suddenly yearning tugged on your heartstring, even though he was only a few yards away from you inside the palace.
“It must be a huge sacrifice for a god to be willing to give up their immortality for a human. It sounds like you sincerely love her.”
“I don’t love her sincerely,” Taeyong continued bluntly, shocking you. But a tinge of the same yearning resonated in his tone too, so you were truly confused about his contradicting reaction. “It’s not the kind of love I wish upon anyone. I haven’t chosen her, but every fiber of my heart longs for her love. One day, it will tear me entirely apart. It will be the day she dies.”
You frowned. “I don’t think I understand…”
“I’m cursed by the god of love. Ironic, isn’t it?” He let out a laugh, but it didn’t sound amused at all, bitter even. “I’m cursed to love her until the end of days, and she’s cursed to not reciprocate it.”
It sounded so sad and unfortunate to you, you didn’t quite know what to say. “I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t imagine how painful it must be to feel and live like this. And what would happen if she died one day? Would he continue loving her and longing for her when all traces of her had evaporated, for all eternity? You repeated, this time much more sensitively, “I’m so sorry, Taeyong.”
“Now, don’t look so sad, there is nothing to be sad about,” Taeyong tried to cheer you up. “I have arranged myself to live like this. That’s why I think you’re very lucky.”
“Me?” You pointed at yourself. “Why should I be?”
“Because humans still know what true love is. They can decide on who to be with, who to open their hearts to, who to let in. Most gods solemnly seek for the comfort of a warm body next to them at any given time, or marry only out of convenience. Some gods are cursed, just like me, some even happen to face a worse fate. Only the minority don’t seek for a puppet or an arrangement, but a real partner. Like Jaehyun.”
You sneered. “According to everyone else, he’s one of the most powerful gods in your entire realm. Why would he care for a real partner, a human even?”
“You don’t know him very well, do you? He might have only searched for a timid wife to sit next to him in the throne hall and perhaps show him a bit of affection. But that would have never been enough for him, and he always knew, otherwise he would have picked the first human he saw.”
“All I’m saying is,” you defended your opinion, “I might not be the right person for whatever he requires of me.”
Taeyong shrugged, but not with an indifferent intention. “You might be the exact right person for this as he doesn’t require anything from you except for you just to be you.”
“Why would you say that?” you sighed, distressed.
“Jaehyun traded his permission to be allowed on earth to find you. It was risky and stupid, I can admit that, but at least he went after what he had been searching for this entire time. It impresses me very much. Doesn’t it impress you too?”
“That’s not a good enough reason. He only had one shot,” you tried to understand. “And he picked me. What if he chose wrong?”
“That is your perception.” Taeyong smiled, no trace of sadness anymore. “Mine is that he was a lonely man looking at a million women in the span of half a day. And he didn’t need to look at a million other women and take the remaining hours to settle with the last possible option out of pure panic, because he ran out of time. He went for what caught his eye, felt right to him and gave him hope. Isn’t that a good enough reason?”
You fell into silence.
“Ah, I must go now. But just let me tell you this one last thing.” You raised your brows in expectation, watching Taeyong shift around and seamlessly continuing without looking back, “Jaehyun is the god of the underworld. Never has he made a wrong decision.”
You wished you didn’t believe him.
____
Jaehyun probably knew it the moment you walked into the great hall that day. He probably saw it in the nervous flickers of your eyes, he probably smelled it in the light sheen of sweat glistening around your cleavage, probably heard it in the ragged breaths of your lungs.
You had come to kill him.
But he didn’t say a single word.
Your walk wasn’t as determined and full of confidence as usual, the steps barely heard as though you might change your mind every second. The silver blade was glistening between your fingers and then slipped up your sleeve again in hope he hadn’t seen.
“Did you think about my offer, little rose?” Jaehyun asked almost nonchalantly as he moved on his throne, but didn’t descend.
Today, he was wearing his dark crown at home again. Ironically, on his death day too, you thought silently to yourself. “Yes,” you announced and let your head drop when you stood in front of him. “I can’t.”
“And why is it that you think that you can’t? You’re a human, someone with a free will. We gods don’t have that.”
“It’s because I have a free will that I decide against your offer.”
“Very well. I accept that.” He let out a long sigh that didn’t sound in the least bit agitated though. “If you ever change your mind while you’re still here, I am willing to get back to my offer.”
“I’m afraid there is not enough time.”
Then you lashed out, and the next moment, he had a knife to his throat, blood spilling where the blade cut into his skin. It was only lightly, but enough to tear apart even the sheerest of paper. You didn’t dare to push deeper, your trembling fingers clinging onto the handle when you settled on his lap with your legs locking him in place on either side.
“Why don’t you stab me?” Jaehyun whispered, not moving a single inch.
You were aware he couldn’t die, not from your mortal hands. This action was your feeble attempt and last resort of holding onto something you should have left behind the moment you had stepped into the darkness: humanity. If you stabbed him, you wouldn’t feel the same as with your father back then. If you stabbed him, you would feel remorse, and that would remind you that you were still all that - a human.
You ground your teeth, breathing irregularly while having difficulties remaining the knife in its position. Jaehyun was still sitting quietly beneath you, looking up at you with expectant eyes that didn’t mirror anything like reproach or anger. He knew you wouldn’t do that, he knew that exactly, and that fueled your despair even more, because, in the end, you had known all along too.
“You can defy everything, little rose, even me,” Jaehyun muttered, stretching out his hand that then touched a strand of your hair and gently tucked it behind your ear. “But the truth is that you want me, and this life. And it’s killing you. Not me.”
You had never wanted to be anything less than extraordinary, but no one had ever told you that you could possibly be bound for so much greater either. Restless in your own world, you had tended flowers day for day, wondering if there was more to life than the one you were living. You had always been subconsciously rattling on the invisible chains of simplicity, boredom and too much comfort, struggling to let go fully.
And now he, the god of the underworld himself, was pressed into the throne in front of you, not fighting back under the threat of your knife, even though he was able to unalive you with only the flick of his finger. He was patiently waiting for your decision, had seen and fostered your potential from the very beginning.
You weren’t a timid little flower in the backyard anymore.
You were the dangerous seeds of pomegranates.
“Tell me, little rose, will you accept even the darkest parts of you like I do?”
A few beats of silence passed by where Jaehyun only heard your rattled breathing going hand in hand with the erratic rhythm of your chest heaving up and down, until the knife dropped to the dais with a loud noise. His fingers grazed over your scalp, settling there shortly before they grabbed a bundle of hair, preparing to haul you to him.
But he didn’t need to. Willingly, you leaned down, stopping right before your lips touched his, wavering in that moment a little too long. Jaehyun’s fingers slipped from the back of your head past your ear, touching your cheek. He was so close, you could feel his breath stroking your chin as his finger tips slid further, trailing over your bottom lip.
Your eye contact was so strong and more intense unlike anything you had ever experienced before. He was exploring the deepest parts of your soul with his gaze only, making you wonder how much longer it would take Jaehyun to unravel all of you without even having touched you more intimately.
Instinctively, you parted your lips, and he slipped his thumb past them. With the tip of your tongue, you licked over his skin, then started sucking on his finger. This gesture had something so tainted yet intimate to it, you feared that he might withdraw right away, but the look in his eyes and his own slightly agape mouth only reassured you of the fact that he found it as seductive as you.
But Jaehyun was still awaiting your answer before it was processed. You were sure though that whatever would start to happen next, it would be world-destructive in so many senses. You only hoped you would be prepared for it.
You sucked in a huge breather and Jaehyun retracted his hand from your mouth as he assumed you wanted to say something. There was much expectation lying behind his awaiting eyes, even though you both knew by now what your answer would be.
“Beg.”
Jaehyun cocked a brow. “Pardon?”
“Beg for it.”
You could clearly see the struggle in his eyes, and even a touch of indignation, but as he saw how serious you were about it, he apparently swallowed all his pride.
“Please,” he growled lowly. “Be my queen.”
“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you finally whispered as you hovered above him with not much resistance.
At this moment, you laid bare in front of him, with your soul and mind at his mercy, and he could do anything he wanted with it.
But he didn’t.
Instead, Jaehyun let you come forward and close the last remaining space between the two of you as you pressed your lips against his, reassuring him of your words’ honesty. You had made your decision, and you were willing to take everything that came along with it - including the god of the underworld himself.
Suddenly, Jaehyun gasped in shock when he tasted something familiar on your tongue.
There it was.
Pulling away, he snatched your hand, spotting red stains on the tips of your fingers and whispering breathlessly, “Pomegranate seeds.” And then louder, “You ate pomegranate seeds!”
You clarified, “Seven of them, to be exact.”
By the way he examined your lips and licked over his own, he must by now also spot and taste the red seeds on your own mouth that had passed by him before.
"You deceived me,” Jaehyun realized. “You never needed me to beg for you to be queen.”
“I needed to be sure you truly meant it,” you disclosed the truth to him. “Whether you would be able to lay your title aside for me and open up to me about what you truly want, as a man and not as a king. Whether you would see me as an equal.”
He hesitated. “What if I had said no?”
One edge of your mouth curved upwards. “From the very beginning, I knew you wouldn’t.”
“How lucky you are, as a queen isn’t to be opposed,” he then said with a smirk, “she’s to be obeyed and worshiped.”
When your lips came together again and his hands grabbed hard on the tender flesh of your buttocks, you were both aware that you had never needed to be convinced to stay with him in the first place.
_____
Jaehyun’s hands weren’t on your face anymore as his mouth gave you all the attention you needed there, lips and tongue deep inside you. Instead, you felt his palms pressing into your exposed thighs after he had successfully and nearly imperceptibly pulled your skirts up, skin grazing against skin, his touch causing you to shudder with craving so unfathomable, you believed you were going to burst. This time, from bliss only.
His tongue outlined the form of your lips, your mouth then again melting into the kiss you two were sharing, so passionate and full of yearning as though you had been waiting a lifetime for only this moment. In both of your cases, it was applicable - the god of the underworld who had been alone all along, and a mortal girl who was bound for so much more than a simple life on earth.
Your back arched into Jaehyun’s body when his hands wandered upwards and curled into the curve of your spine, his fingers dancing across the naked skin under all the fabric which hung flattery around your figure. Without breaking your kiss, you gripped onto the very first button of his black shirt and undid it, your hands stained with the blood of the wound that you had caused earlier.
Snapping back to reality, you bounced back with a gasp, inspecting Jaehyun’s neck that now looked surprisingly unscathed where your knife had once slid through, only the spilled blood remaining. “Wha-”
“We gods heal way faster than humans, because that’s what we are…” he explained patiently, “immortal.”
That was something you hadn’t put further thought into, but absolutely made sense considering that you technically couldn’t kill him. Somehow, a bad conscience still seeped into you, so you said, “I’m sorry” with much regret in your voice.
“Don’t apologize, little rose,” was only his answer, adorned with a smile while his fingers fiddled with the collar around your cleavage. “You did what you had to do. It was important to me that you weighed all your options and still decided to be with me.”
Jaehyun tugged on your sleeves, pulling the upper part of your dress all the way down. The fabric settled around your hips with loud rusting, and only now you noticed that he had grown distinctively hard between your thighs. It aroused you very much as well, a cool breeze caressing your breasts and making your nipples turn hard.
You had never carefully paid attention to what you considered flaws on your body, but the god sitting under you was incontrovertibly perfect and you, as a human, certainly didn’t perceive yourself in the same way. There was nothing to hide your naked body behind in this short span of doubt, but your shoulders slacked nonetheless, especially in this dominant position, and he noticed.
Jaehyun lifted you off his lap with a surprised sound falling from your lips. Your thighs were locked around his hips and you held onto him while he descended from the throne and placed you with your back on the carpet in front of the dais. With your arms slung across your chest while now lying in front of him, you tried to hide from him what you considered unpleasant for his eyes. You had never had this problem during your fleeting intimate encounterings before.
“Please don’t be insecure,” Jaehyun spoke gently, looming over you. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off you.”
Oddly, you believed every single word and willingly freed your chest as your thoughts and worries started to leave your mind. His tongue flicked over your nipple and with a moan, you threw your head back against the carpet, your fingers buried in his thick hair which was free from a crown now, scratching his scalp when he decided to gently suck on your peaks in alternation. It made you grow hot and wet in your nether regions, and you started to ache with the need for release.
You whined when Jaehyun suddenly withdrew, but let out a yelp when he grabbed your thighs, yanking you towards him and burying his face between your legs under the many layers of your skirts. His tongue indulged you, making hard passes over your folds before flicking your clit over and over. You hadn’t known what to expect of a god, but literally devouring you kind of made sense now.
His tongue was long, wet and thick, and it slid over your exposed parts in delightful strokes, the groaning sounds Jaehyun made meanwhile vibrating through you and almost making you cum on spot if it weren’t for him deciding to use his lips next. They felt full and warm on your wetness when he sucked on you, and you calmed down a bit, moving your body to the same sensual rhythm as his caressing mouth.
“You taste better than the pomegranate seeds,” Jaehyun told you when he appeared by your face again, licking over his wet lips.
He wanted to prolong the act, but that didn’t withhold him from having fun, so he started playing with you through his rough fingers rubbing soft circles around your clit while observing you with a satisfied grin. These fingers then moved past your barrier and started to thrust inside of you, causing you to fidget with your legs, wanting to get rid of the dress that you suddenly didn’t see as a protection from your mortality anymore, but an annoyance.
Jaehyun, as though an expert in reading your needs now, helped you with that and dragged the entire dress down your legs, throwing it aside. You watched him then elegantly and calmly undressing himself too, and when he dropped on his knees in front of your spread legs, entirely naked, his appearance just took your breath away.
He was magnificent. And he had decided on you to make his queen. Out of all creatures, mortal and immortal, human and god, he had decided on you. Suddenly, you didn’t see it as a punishment anymore, but a blessing. You were so lucky.
Jaehyun positioned himself between your thighs, slowly stroking his length against your entrance that was already slick with precum. You guessed everything that worked for humans worked for gods too. And that also included pain as you hadn’t had sex in so long already.
There was indeed a pang as he pushed himself inside, but it lasted only the break of a second that he luckily didn’t catch before it melted into pleasure, and it was the kind of pleasure you hadn’t been able to ever fathom before. It felt like something fell into place, like finding something that you had grasp seeking for all your lifetime and had just now discovered.
The way he slid his length in, slowly, inch by agonizing inch, was what you would describe as pure bliss, the most decadent, indulgent pleasure you had ever felt. You reached down and grabbed his bum, pulling him into you so that he sank even deeper if that were even possible as he had already hit the brim.
“Already so insatiable, little rose?” Jaehyun groaned with an underlying chuckle, propping his hands against the carpet on either side of you. “Or should I call you ‘my queen’ from now on?”
He wasn’t even expecting an answer as he knew your clear response to it. His first thrust then inside of you was already so powerful, it nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.
You weren’t his captive, nor his prisoner. He had never seen you as such. You were soon to be the queen by his side, his equal. Yet, all you wanted was him to fuck you senseless, devour you, ravage you, and worse. And you had the feeling that the god of the underworld wouldn’t mind doing all that as the sinister grin on his lips slightly gave away while you whispered almost absent-mindedly,
“More, more!”
Your fingers curled around the rug beneath you whenever he pulled back, his muscles straining and drawing in a deep breath before he slammed right back into you, causing you to gasp loudly, the echo getting carried across the wide hall. You hadn’t deemed it to be possible, but you swore that with every thrust, he drove in even deeper. A cry strangled in your throat, your vision rolling back as you had difficulties keeping eye contact with him. Your naked bodies moved together in unison despite you having feared at first that you might have forgotten how this act worked.
For this being you two’s first joining, you didn’t feel inferior or controlled like in the past when you had used sex and everything forbidden only as a coping mechanism. Every noise you made, whether dry moaning or lustful cry, was because of pure pleasure, and Jaehyun always responded with a short pause where he looked you longingly in the eyes and halted his motions for a moment before starting off shallowly again as though he quite couldn’t believe you were there. You couldn’t either.
With each kiss, you felt adored. With each touch, you felt appreciated. With each thrust, you felt worshiped. It wasn’t only about him, but about you too, regardless of your human nature.
Pleasure quickly started to build and grow within you, and you were afraid you were going to faint on the spot as Jaehyun’s rhythm changed and he picked up his pace. Your mortal body was supposedly too weak and too fragile to take everything he could give all at once despite you wanting to explore everything, all of it.
But you couldn’t just yet, despite him clearly willing to give you all you needed, for as long as you wanted. If you continued, you feared you might really splinter and be impossible to put back together, dying right there in his arms, because the bliss was too much for a human to take in.
“Please,” you were the one begging now, your hands coming forward and clutching around his toned arm muscles. “I can’t anymore. I need to-”
“Very well, my queen.”
The new title was music to your ears, and the moment you saw stars exploding in front of your eyes, you also witnessed the sparkles merging and forging a crown made of darkness, just like his.
You were screaming and writhing under him, grabbing onto anything, something just to make sure that you would stay here and not fly off into another realm or worse, back to earth. But you were still with Jaehyun when you calmed down and his own orgasm ripped through him, the god of the underworld coming undone right above you.
His chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath, his toned body gleaming with sweat, but he still took his time to end your session with a kiss on your mouth that sealed the eternal proposal you had accepted.
“This is the only time I wouldn’t mind giving up power as a queen,” you reminded him as he pulled you to his chest, still there on the carpet. “Don’t you forget that.”
“Very well, my queen.”
You couldn’t see his face, but you felt his smile on you.
____
When you woke up the next morning, you only after a short while realized that you weren’t in your own chambers. Warmth rose to your cheeks when you remembered what happened after you had threatened Jaehyun with a knife. And after that. And after that again. And…
Each joining had lasted longer than the one before, him giving more and you taking more, until your experience wasn’t only earth-shattering, but also soul-rendering. Every session tightened the bond that had formed between the two of you even stronger, and you wondered how long it would take until it couldn’t break anymore. Perhaps, it had never been destructible to begin with.
You blinked against the dim reddish light and got into a seating position before observing the room that was almost identical to yours, probably just a bit bigger, furnished fuller and more luxuriously.
“I figured you wanted to remain true to mortal customs.”
You hadn’t spotted Jaehyun sitting on the edge of the bed, hair messy and body bare safe from a pair of satin bottoms. Again, you remembered that on earth, you had never seen a human so beautiful like him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to believe there was.
“What do you mean?” you asked with a raspy voice, and he apparently found it endearing in the way he reacted to your question.
“I heard that on earth, after you propose marriage and the other person accepts, you’re engaged. That’s the time before the actual wedding, right? And that the woman is gifted a diamond ring. At least that’s what Taeyong told me.”
“That’s right,” you confirmed, but you had never seen a real diamond ring before. When people in your village got engaged, they usually bought a cheap ring or used an heirloom, but as you had never expected to get married, you had never put much thought into owning one yourself.
“I didn’t know which kind of stone you liked and neither which kind of cut you preferred, let alone the color,” Jaehyun spelled out, insecurity swinging in his undertone. “I spent the entire rest of the night only deciding on that.” He slid closer to you along the mattress which let you spot the softness in his voice resonating in the look of his eyes. “And then I came to the conclusion that all of that doesn’t matter. Trivial things like these don’t matter to you. But… I still wanted to give the mortal girl I stole from her family a diamond ring. Simply because she deserves it.”
From the corner of your periphery, you spotted something glittering. When he opened his palm fully, a dainty silver ring got revealed to you, a black diamond sitting on the very top. Its shape reminded you of a blossoming flower, held together by silvery thorns that twined along the outline.
“It’s the shape of a rose,” Jaehyun explained, “cut of diamonds from deep inside the mountains where only the residing god has access to.”
A rose for his beloved little rose cut of stone in the same color as their hearts.
It was the most beautiful jewelry you had ever seen, one of those you usually only read about in fairytale books. Jaehyun reached out his hand and took yours into his, sliding the ring along the right finger until it sat perfectly where an engagement ring was supposed to be seen. You had never wanted to pay much attention to materialistic stuff, but as soon as you saw the diamond adorning your hand, you were flooded with so much pride and an overwhelming feeling of finally having found your place in this world that it drove tears into your eyes.
“Did… did I do something wrong?” Jaehyun suddenly sounded so worried and squeezed your fingers together, expressing his concern. “Isn’t it what you wanted? We can change the diamond, the color, or if you don’t want a ring at a-”
You shook your head. “It’s… it’s not that. The ring is perfect. This is perfect.”
“What is it then?”
Pause. “I don’t want to be your queen.”
He let go of your hand, his forehead now in creases. “So, you don’t want to get married to me anymore?”
“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t want to be your queen only.”
The frowns only deepened. “What are you saying?”
“At the beginning, you wanted me as your wife, but I refused. Later on, you said you were looking for a queen. I only accepted to be a queen, not a wife.”
“That is correct.”
“Ask me again.”
“What?”
You chuckled. “Ask me again.”
Jaehyun needed a moment to process, but then his eyes started to sparkle when it dawned on him what you were trying to ask of him. He then took your hand with the engagement ring back into his and held your fingers in front of his chest, the black rose diamond sparkling in the candlelight.
“Will you marry me? Will you become my wife, loved and cherished every single day, and also become my queen, reigning over the underworld with me?”
Loved and cherished? You had never heard someone speaking these words in the same breath and directing them at you. And now you had the king of the underworld offering you more than you had ever thought possible on earth. He sealed his proposal with a kiss that he gently placed on the top of your knuckles, right by the diamond.
You let your fingers slip out of his palm and shifted your arm to sling them both around his neck. With a careful movement, you motioned in his direction, his hands on your waist guiding you until you settled on his lap, eye to eye with him.
“Will you love and cherish me always?” With your thumbs, you tenderly brushed over the back of his neck. “Whatever will happen?”
“I will always love and cherish my wife and queen,” he replied. “So please, marry me. And this is the only time I will ever beg again outside of the bedroom.”
He knew that you had always been meant for more than a silly, fragile doll of earth. And maybe, your family provided acceptance to the same extent, but you wanted pomegranates and death, and you craved the cruel shadows of the night. He saw more in you than a corrupted child of light, he saw a queen worthy of reigning alongside him. And you would gladly let him believe so.
“Yes,” you whispered before you leaned into his lips. “I will.”
The kiss was chaste and innocent, a stark contrast to the previous night, sealing a proposal you had never dreamed of receiving. To be loved and cherished until all eternity… you thought, despite the equal darkness in your heart, you could give all of this to him too. And eternity by his side didn’t sound so excruciating anymore.
“What is it?” Jaehyun halted in the middle of the kiss to look directly at you, his palms steadying either side of your face. “Is something wrong?”
You shook your head, taken aback by a warm feeling that suddenly spread from your lower stomach to the very tips of every limp. “Nothing.” Your fingers massaged the back of his head, his soft hair slipping through the gaps between them. “When are we getting married?”
“So impatient already?” He narrowed his eyes and tilted the corners of his lips up to an evil grin. “If you want to repeat last night, all you have to do is ask, anytime you want, anywhere you want.”
“As promising as it sounds… I’m serious,” you assured him. “When can we get married?”
“I stand by my answer, anytime you want.”
“Then tomorrow?”
“As you wish, my wife.”
____
You married the god of the underworld on a day when the sky was exceptionally red. Or so it seemed to you as your lips had been painted in the same promising color that resembled the dangerous pomegranate seeds as well.
You stood in a tiny, open chapel forged of stone in the middle of the mountains you always watched from Jaehyun’s chamber’s window where you had resided the past nights. Donned in black garments of the finest fabrics instead of pastels, you were facing and holding each other’s hands, the priestess in a white tunic and veil that barely revealed her face reading from a book to you that you had never seen in churches on earth.
You didn’t have witnesses, there were no family members or friends to celebrate this special day with you. Under these circumstances, it would have been the saddest day in a young woman’s life. But not for you. Of course you wished your mother and sister could have been here too to share these feelings with you, but they also wouldn’t have understood.
Why you did this. Why you needed to do this.
“I do,” you heard Jaehyun say first.
This was where you belonged. At the end of the day, you had still found your way into the arms of the darkest god in the entire realms.
“I do,” you repeated after the priestess, barely a whisper, but still strong enough to be carried by the breeze to everyone’s ear.
You met Jaehyun’s confident smile, and you only now grasped the fact that you barely remembered the last time you had been happy to this extent back there on earth. It had been a long, long time.
When your lips closed around your husband’s, marking his mouth with stains of the same redness as the sky and the pomegranates that bound you to this place, you claimed him as yours just like he claimed you as his.
Two equals from different breeds, but from now on of the same value under this red sky.
____
“Congratulations on your wedding. I was a bit sad that I wasn't invited.”
“Nobody was invited, Taeyong,” Jaehyun sighed. “Why did you come here anyway?”
“I have a message for your wife.” The sun god jumped down the stairs until he stood in front of you both, but only eyeing you. “Talk about timing, you have just gotten married and I will have to separate you again.”
“What do you mean?” You frowned, suddenly very wary.
“I have a message for you from the god of the sea. Since he was banned by your now husband from ever entering the underworld again and your husband was banned from entering the sea too, he sent me as a messenger.”
That statement didn’t only cause you to freeze, but Jaehyun as well. “What does he want from her?”
The few things you had heard about the sea god so far hadn’t been really pleasant. What could he possibly want from you?
“He has been reached out to by someone who wants to get you back,” Taeyong declared carefully.
You shook your head. “That’s impossible. No one from my family can come and there is no other person who would care enough for me to do that.”
“Why would that be the case?” Taeyong asked.
“Her mother is limping gravely and her sister is still a child. She doesn’t have other living relatives,” Jaehyun reasoned for you.
You were grateful for his support as you were having struggles digesting Taeyong’s information, having the fact pass by you that you had never actually told Jaehyun anything about your family yourself by then.
“Well, someone is there who you matter very much to. And they want to take you back with them. A distant relative? A friend?”
“It must be my mother or sister. It must.” You were petrified while two pairs of eyes laid on you, both gods lost for words too.
The tears that spilled from your eyes shortly later weren’t tears of happiness or relief. They were tears of guilt, because you felt neither. You couldn’t move but shook with your whole body against your will at the same time. What eventually settled in your stomach was the feeling of disappointment.
Disappointment, because whoever had come they had succeeded in that task - all to no avail.
Taeyong touched your back in a comforting gesture. “I’ll accompany you.”
“No,” Jaehyun cut in and took you into an embrace in which you couldn’t stop trembling too, even though you weren’t cold. “Let her digest that information first, and then we’ll figure out what to do.”
Despite the stream of tears that clouded your vision, you still brought yourself to shake your head. “N-no,” you sobbed. “I-I will go now. I have to go n-now.”
“The horse is already saddled,” Taeyong supported you. “Don’t worry, I will safely escort her and bring her back to you, Jaehyun, you have my word.”
“You want to do it now?” your husband asked you carefully, eyes full of worry.
You nodded determinedly, voice steadier now. “Yes. They came all the way here, I owe them. Whatever they risked, I owe them. I cannot let another minute go reactionless to waste.”
“I understand.”
Not much later, you had hurried to your own room, Ara helping you peel out of your wedding dress and changing into a comfortable, dark gown, more suited for riding and traveling. You didn’t want to lose much time as Taeyong was already waiting outside, so you hastened along with the servant until your husband stepped into the room right before you were about to leave again.
“You’re dismissed, Ara,” Jaehyun said and she nodded, quietly departing and shutting the door behind her.
“What’s he like?” you asked dryly, tears now having entirely subsided, but fear only growing. “The god of the sea, I mean.”
Your husband turned mute for a bit too long before he replied discreetly, yet clearly enough with much pain in his voice, “I wish you wouldn’t have to go.”
“I must.”
“I know. It’s just so unfortunate it happened on our wedding day.”
You felt his breath hitting the parting of your hair when he stood close to you and eventually hugged again which you instinctively reciprocated. You didn’t want to leave him either - but, again, you must. If only he could come with you, you would feel safer and more protected. Even though Taeyong offered probably the same amount of comfort, it would have been something entirely else to have your own husband by your side.
“Remember, you’re the queen of the underworld now,” Jaehyun whispered into your ear. “He doesn’t stand a chance against you. By title alone, you’re mightier than him.”
“I’m still a human and mortal after all,” you expressed your worry and buried your face in his chest, fingers clutching hard into the fabric of his shirt. “He could keep me captivated, blackmail you or just end me with one single grip of his hand. I don’t stand a chance against him.”
“If he dares to lay a finger on you,” Jaehyun continued with an underlying groan that indicated he was suppressing long planted anger, “I will have the permission to end him. I promise to you, if you’re not back by the day after tomorrow, I will tear every single realm apart just to find you and take you back with me.”
In the security of his embrace, you smiled, more at ease now. “If he won’t let me go, I will fight my way back to you. Through every single realm.”
“That is exactly what my queen and wife would say.”
The proudness in his voice made you proud too, and suddenly you weren’t so scared anymore. The promises you had given to each other in the secrecy of your room was sealed with one last kiss that was dripping with longing over the lost wedding night before you got on Taeyong’s horse and rode off with him into the fallen darkness.
____
“So, you’re the wife of the king of the underworld?”
The man in front of you motioned his pupils up and down, inspecting you from head to toe. You couldn’t pinpoint the look in his eyes, but it was everything except kindness that got mirrored in them. It was mostly mockery that bordered disgust even.
“I’m not only his wife, I’m his queen and the queen of the underworld, so you will address me as such.”
He raised his dark brow that was of the same color as his hair - petrol blue. In comparison to your husband, the king, he was a bit shorter and of a more slender figure, his aura far more sinister, nothing that would draw you to him like what had drawn you to your husband at the very beginning.
“Very well, human queen.” He grinned, his grin sharp and his smile crooked. “Does your oblivious husband know you killed your own father and only accepted his marriage proposal to get spared from the torture fields?”
Your blood froze.
“I see, that’s enough of an answer. When I heard your father went away a decade ago, but I couldn’t track him down, I found it very suspicious, so I did a background check on you. What came to light truly fascinated me.” He put his index finger on his chin. “You and the god of the underworld are so similar. That you accepted his marriage proposal solely for that purpose, I only guessed. But I know you stupid, greedy humans. You’re all the same. In comparison to you, your sister is very talkative though as she had come all the way down here by herself.”
Your jaw dropped. “My… sister?” You were conflicted about what to do first as you did everything at once, gasping, breathing and talking simultaneously. “My sister is here? Alone? My sister can't be here, she’s practically still a child!”
“She’s very mature for her age,” the sea god explained, partially smugly, partially matter-of-factly. “She reached out to me herself through a summoner that she had tracked down in a nearby village and even offered her life, wanted me to trade hers for yours. Unfortunately, that was when I found out you ate our food already. What a pity.” He let out a long sigh and touched his forehead as though annoyed in a phony manner. “And now that you’re even queen of the underworld, I’m not allowed to go through with my plans.” When he fixed his gaze back on you, his expression had some kind of madness to it that caused goose bumps to appear all over your body, and not the pleasant ones. “But that doesn’t mean that I cannot still have a bit of fun. Let’s see how much you both love each other.”
The undersea palace was equally impressive as the dark palace, the entire building forged of corals of different colors, lightning coming from the sun that was still able to make its way through the entire ocean’s depth until the last rays reached down here. It seemed like a lively and vibrant place with the residents also breathing air as water was kept outside, many mortals roaming around in colorful attires that reminded you of another part of the earth. The palace was like an own world in the middle of the undersea, but it was exactly this colorful and lively world that you would make the worst memory with.
The sea god suddenly spread out his arms like wings. Behind him, where a mass of deep blue curtain had adorned the back wall of the throne hall until now, a glass window revealed itself when the thick fabric parted, presenting the foggish undersea through a hole as big as a human’s house. The view was striking and intimidating at the same time, and you would have appreciated the sight for a bit longer if it weren’t for your sister who you found swimming like a fish in an aquarium behind the glass, a tiny dot on a huge painting.
Her long hair was floating around her head like a halo, her skirts spread like a summer breeze had lifted them up, and it would all have been a heavenly painting with the fishes swimming across the picture if it weren’t for the look of horror in her eyes that she directed at you from the moment the curtains parted.
“I heard,” the sea god pulled you out of your petrifying realizations, “humans can only live approximately three minutes without air. How long will your sister make it? I think she’s already been in there for more than a minute.”
You panicked, and for a few heartbeats, you had to deal with a blackout about how to proceed, how to save your sister. Luckily, rationality kicked back in and you acted on implementing your first idea. The sea god watched you running around while continuously wearing his mocking smirk, heading into different directions in search of something that could break the glass.
You heard him laugh, his petrol blue strands shaking in the same rhythm as his dancing shoulders when you took a chair into your hands and dragged it to the massive glass window behind the dais. You were of a natural build, but that didn’t mean you were weak for a woman. Years of working on the fields finally paid off when you heaved the chair up and slammed it against the glass, over and over again.
The more often the chair came in contact with the surface, the weaker your arms and the bigger your panic grew as time passed uncontrollably and you knew that soon, it would be too late.
“It’s not human glass. A chair cannot break it. It was amusing watching you though, but now it gets boring,” the sea god snickered and yawned. “Humans… such imbeciles.”
You hadn’t noticed how tears started streaming down your face, hot and wet, until you desperately laid your palms against the glass, trying to make out your sister’s body. But at this point, she had already floated so far away, you could barely spot her anymore, perhaps mainly also because of your tear-smeared vision.
You sank onto your knees, hands sliding down the glass as you felt hope shrinking the further you lowered your position, until you were a crying mess on the ground. Your sister would now die and it was entirely your fault - because you were so selfish and only thought about saving yourself. Just like back then with your father.
But suddenly, your hiccups stopped in unison with your tears when you felt something prick against your right thigh, and you gasped when a fact dawned on you: There was still hope. Before you had ridden off, Jaehyun had strapped an item around your leg that you had shortly forgotten about.
A knife.
“Take this with you,” your husband had said. “It’s made from the strongest material to ever exist, in this and the human world. It cannot kill an immortal, but it can break through every surface imaginable.”
Like he had seen coming, because he had been in a feud with the sea god for a long time already. Like he had wanted to prepare you for every possible situation that could occur.
The moment the glass broke with only a single strike of you and water mercilessly swamped into the hall, you just thought about how much you loved your husband and that it was only thanks to him that you were now able to hold your sister in your arms again - breathing and alive.
And that you hadn’t killed another family member and would never need to again.
____
Your little sister was shivering in your arms, but you tried your best to keep her warm with your coat while you were wearing Taeyong’s as you were equally cold after the throne hall in the undersea palace had been entirely swamped.
“I’m tired,” your sister yawned.
It had been an almost impossible battle to get her out of there with the sea god going on a rampage after you broke the glass, and without Taeyong’s help, it wouldn’t have been successful at all, but here you were now, both exhausted and injured, but alive. That was all that mattered.
“Not long anymore,” you assured her.
Not long anymore and you would be back at the dark palace. It had only been two days, but the further you approached the location, the more your anticipation grew to finally see your husband again. You hadn’t been aware of how much you actually missed and longed for him until the moment you felt him by your side when you saved your sister - with his help.
“Where are we going, sis?”
Taeyong was controlling the horse from the back while you and your sister were seated in front of him. You slung your arms tighter around her before you answered,
“My home.”
“But your home is with me,” she protested weakly before dozing off again, and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth just yet.
“She can also live here, you know,” Taeyong told you quietly from behind. “If Jaehyun breaks the bargain she made with the sea god, she will be able to stay.”
“Her heart is not as dark as mine, her past not as tarnished, her future not as corrupted. She doesn’t belong here,” you defended her. “I’m darkness and she’s light. She belongs to where flowers grow, where spring returns and where she can see the sun rise every day.”
“You’re also everything that she is, do you know that?”
“You heard the sea god talking about my background. I don’t have an excuse for the things that I did to our father. If I don’t belong to the torture fields, who does?”
“Your father,” was Taeyong’s matter-of-fact reply.
You added, “And I would have to follow him.”
“That is not true,” he disagreed. “I’m not Jaehyun, but I’m positive that this is not true. He wouldn’t have sent you to the torture fields if you had died one day on earth as a human. I know your entire story now, and he wouldn’t have done that.”
“Even if that were possible…” you smiled sadly into the slowly falling night, “how would my husband react if he knew that I had initially agreed to this marriage just to avert my possible destiny?”
“You only wanted to do what you had to do in order to survive. That’s normal. That’s not even human only, that’s instinct we all carry within us.”
“I don’t want him to send me away,” you admitted, voice cracking and making way for tears that threatened to spill behind your eyes. “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here and only because of him, not because of my position or my title.”
With your front teeth sinking into your bottom lip and nearly making it bleed, you held yourself back from crying the nth time today.
“Sounds like you married him for other reasons as well,” Taeyong concluded with a lighter tone in his voice. “In the end, isn’t that all that matters now?”
“I don’t want him to regret choosing me,” you added hesitantly, stroking your sister’s damp hair as the fist spires of the dark palace came into sight, even in the settling darkness.
“Jaehyun has been the god of the underworld for an eternity already. As I said, never has he ever made a wrong decision. He has risked everything to get you. All you have to be is as courageous and confident as him, and believe in your love.”
Love…?
Was it even possible to love someone you didn’t entirely know?
The last part of the way was covered in silence, and you expected your husband to be already asleep by now as night had long fallen. But you were able to make out the shape of his body even from miles afar. He stood in front of the gate as though he had known exactly when you would return - or had been standing there the past two days and nights.
You didn’t even have to ride all the way to the gates. Jaehyun came running in your direction, his crown falling off his head while sprinting, but he didn’t seem to care about that.
“My wife,” he greeted you when you slid from the horse and into his arms, welcomed back into the darkness to where you belonged, but that suddenly didn’t feel so cold and threatening anymore. It felt warm. Just like home.
Not “little rose”, not “my queen”.
But “my wife” you were now.
You couldn’t lie to him any longer.
____
You gazed at your husband who was sleeping soundly next to you. Even though night had not given way to daytime yet, you couldn’t sleep anymore, too many thoughts keeping you restless and awake.
Upon your return, you and your sister had been examined by a physician, but to your both luck, you had escaped with only minor injuries such as scratches from the broken glass. Yet, you had demanded for her to be observed the entire night. Initially, you had wanted to stay by her side yourself, but the physician had required absolute quietness and bedrest for her as she would sleep for many more hours, so you had decided to stay by Jaehyun’s side in the meantime.
For what seemed like hours, you had talked. And reliving the entire story in your tellings had you crying in your husband’s arms once again, partly because of the horror, partly because of the relief that you had been able to save your sister.
“She cannot stay here for long,” Jaehyun had made clear after comforting you until all your tears had subsided. “Part of her bargain was giving up one year of her life for every day she stays in the godly realms, so she has to recover fast and hurry home.”
How were you supposed to tell him that this wasn’t the only thing you were worried about? Now that your sister was here to take you back, but with you having already eaten the pomegranate seeds, you didn’t have a choice anymore. Deep inside, you deemed yourself lucky that you didn’t even have to make one in the first place afterwards.
Because that would mean that you would have had to hurt someone consciously. And it wouldn’t have been your husband.
Which was why you had decided to come clean with him now.
You were sitting next to him, stretching out your hand and gently tracing the outline of his jaw. He was so ethereally beautiful, it nearly made your breath catch again. But that wasn’t the reason why you wanted to stay by his side forever.
It was because, after living a quarter of a human lifetime, you had finally found the place where you belonged. You had found your counterpart, your partner for eternity, your equal, your twin flame. The one who accepted every edge of your soul, no matter how frayed it was. At least, out of all mortals and immortals, he was willing to.
But would he still be if he had explored every last part of the darkness inside of you?
“Why did you stop?”
You hadn’t noticed how you had halted your motions, your fingers coming to a stop right under Jaehyun’s bottom lip.
“Good morning,” you whispered with a smile, and he kissed the tip of your index finger.
“It’s long not morning yet.” He looked at you, but he wasn’t mirroring your expression. “What are you so sad for?”
So, he had seen right through you already. You gulped. “I had a bad dream,” you said.
“Tell me about it.”
“I dreamed that you left me.”
Jaehyun let out a light-hearted chuckle that was still hoarse from sleep. “Why would I ever do that?”
“Because I might not be the person you think I am. The more you get to know me…”
But he didn’t let you finish, which you gladly accepted, because you were unsure about how to end the sentence anyway. “In my entire lifetime, I have never made one decision that I regretted, not even after an eternity. And you’re one of them.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
What your husband said next made you possibly love him even more. He didn’t tell you the usual phrases that any man would tell their wives in order to silence them for they got too annoyed. Instead, he said,
“You’re the queen of the underworld now. You have to believe in yourself first.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that in your own words how much you have come to love him though. Instead, you bent down to him and covered his mouth with yours in a passionate kiss.
“You know, we were never able to celebrate our wedding night.”
“You mean what happened in the hallway earlier didn’t count?” he wondered with feigned innocence as though he hadn’t been the one ripping your clothes apart the moment you were finally alone and hastily took you on the stairs right there and then.
You tugged on the hem of your nightgown, sliding the thin fabric over your head and simultaneously motioning towards Jaehyun until you were sitting naked on his lap. “That was your present for me. Here’s my present for you.”
The way your husband moaned into your ear when you were hovering over him shortly later, your hips coming down on his in a steady rhythm and your nipples grazing over his muscular chest, made you wonder if this was the last time that you would be able to hear him utter sounds like this.
You were bouncing up and down the mattress, knees already strained as you leaned backwards and braced yourself against his shins with your hands, arching your spine in such a way to give him full access to your whole body.
And he did worship it, every single inch, every part you considered a human flaw. His hands trailed upwards, stopping by your breasts and kneading them gently as he met your hip motions with thrusts that hit all your sensitive spots inside through the curved angle.
Your face was turned against the ceiling as you decided to close your eyes, your hair cascading past your shoulder and winding with each rock of your groins. Only a little longer, you swore to yourself. For only a little longer, you wanted to stop time and lived in this moment as long as possible.
But your body was human even though you couldn’t age in the godly realms, it painfully reminded you of that when Jaehyun dropped his palm and his fingers landed on your clit. You didn’t have the same stamina, nor the same endurance to prolong and go on for hours, so when you came undone right above your husband with a scream, body and soul, you felt betrayed by your own remaining humanity.
You fully rode out your orgasm, but as Jaehyun made a move to take the lead now and flip you around, you pinned him in that position by locking his arms in place with your hands. Even though he was able to change positions easily, he didn’t, and having you dominating turned him on so much, it didn’t take you much more until he cum in long spurts all inside of you himself.
“I never believed you were a virgin in the first place,” Jaehyun breathed under you. “But that you were capable of doing these kinds of things, I didn’t believe either. I’m impressed.”
“There is so much more to me you won’t believe I’m capable of,” you said, gaze stoically directed at the wall behind him, not moving from his lap to cuddle with him like usual, and he noticed.
“Didn’t we talk about this?” Jaehyun brushed it off, assuming this was what withheld you from coming closer to him. “Peccadillos.”
You inhaled deeply, then lowered your gaze, hiding behind strands of your loose hair, because that was how cowardly you actually were. “Ten years ago, I killed my father in a cold blooded murder,” you finally confessed. “Now, do you still want me as your wife?”
____
Jaehyun found you much later in one of the endless corridors as you had run away right after your confession. You had roamed through the palace in the meantime, at a loss about where to continue from here, and because you were afraid of his reaction. After all, you were always good at running away from things, no matter whether they were crimes or feelings.
As redness crested the horizon, you were leaning out of the window, guilty, but simultaneously full of relief to still see another dayrise.
“You can think of a punishment fit for my crime,” you offered to Jaehyun without turning around. “I won’t mind.”
Whatever it might be, it couldn’t be as horrific as suffering on the torture fields for eternity. At least, he couldn’t punish you with that. That was all you had wanted, wasn’t it?
“I cannot judge over my equal,” your husband replied monotonously. “Only the god who reigns over all godly realms can.”
“Oh, so it’s like this.” You had thought you were oh so smart to trick yourself into staying in the underworld as a mortal only to find out that there was possibly a much more gruesome punishment than what Jaehyun would have had in store for you. “I was wrong in the end.”
All this time, you had had this secret locked away in a chest that you had thrown into the deepest abyss of your heart, pretending it was whole when it was frayed on every edge. Once you unlocked the chest that you had sealed shut for nearly a decade, the darkness that was kept within would consume all of you. Perhaps, right now was the perfect time to face it.
“When I was much younger,” you began deliberately, staring out of the window while sensing your husband approaching you with deliberate steps, “and my little sister barely a toddler, my father came home one night, totally drunk. At that point, he had been drinking almost every day for a few years already. What he earned from his cabinetwork and from what we sold in crops, vegetables and fruits, he spent it satisfying his addiction. My mother was always very careful to put us to sleep before he came home, but I was already old enough to witness with my own eyes and ears what was going on each night. Every morning, my mother came out of the bedroom with another bruise showing on her body when my father had long gone out again. That certain night though, he was thrashing around furniture, even waking my baby sister up who I then carried around. When I opened the door, he shoved the table against my mother, hitting her legs with full force and rendering her unconscious. Upon seeing us, he snatched my little sister out of my arms.”
“Please.” Jaehyun’s attire made a rustling sound and then stilled, but he didn’t reach out to touch you. Outwardly, you reacted as though you didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. Inwardly, you longed for his fingers traveling over your thighs just one more time. But he was willing to give you the space you needed. “You don-.”
“That night, I killed him,” you cut him off, because you knew that if you didn’t do it now, you might never come so far again. “When he didn’t want to let go of my sister and give her back to me, preparing himself to do to her what he did to our mother, I took a knife and stabbed him many, many times. My sister’s crying was ringing in my ears long after he was dead, but I was still stabbing. I managed to calm my baby sister down and put her back to sleep. I tended my mother’s wounds and also brought her to bed before I took my father’s corpse and buried it deep in the woods. I spent half of the night digging his grave, the other half cleaning the wood off his blood. The next day, I told everyone I chased him off and he would never come back to hurt them again. The relief in their eyes made up for everything. They were so happy they were finally able to live in peace. But me? I have never found peace. I sacrificed my own happiness for my family. And I don’t regret it. I was only a teenager when I made that decision.”
With every syllable, you felt the darkness eating up a bigger part of your heart, and it wouldn’t be long until it had digested the entire organ. That was what you had always been afraid of, but it was also very relieving on the other hand. There was no pain anymore, just deep satisfaction, indicating a hint of regret for not having done it sooner.
Jaehyun didn’t say anything afterwards, but you were prepared for everything that would happen now. At least, you could move on, at peace with yourself after a decade.
“My soul might be dark, but I was not suffering. I was only afraid of what the darkness would do to me if I didn’t keep it locked, under control. That I would hurt more people, especially my family. But I would do it over and over again if this is the only way to keep my family safe from monsters. Even if this monster is me. But you have to understand…” You finally shifted around to your husband, revealing a face wet from tears. “When I ate the seeds, I had already decided to be your queen. But not for the same purpose for which I have decided to be your wife. When I decided to be your queen, it was because of the fear of ending on the torture fields myself if I ever got the chance to return to the mortal world. I thought I didn’t deserve to continue living on earth alongside pure people like my mother and sister, because I’m so filthy and corrupted. It was for my own protection, I was so scared after visiting the fields, that’s why I ate the seeds.”
You fell down to your knees and the thin fabric of your nightgown couldn’t cushion the pain that you felt when you smashed against the marble. But you didn’t care. The only thing important to you now was to not lose your husband. You wanted to fight for him so that if he were to let you go, you could say you had been finally courageous and confident enough to have fought for your love.
Yes, love.
“But when I decided to be your wife too, it was because I whole-heartedly wanted to stay by your side, because I-” The following confession twisted your guts, because you had never believed you would be able to say this to someone or even feel a sliver of it one day. But it was true, every single syllable. “Because I love you.”
For a long moment, nothing happened, only your whimpers and sobs filling in the silence that stretched in the hallway, and the more you waited for a reaction, the more agonized you turned to the point of coming to accept the truth that you might have lost your husband forever. You cried even more.
“I finally understand.” You then felt Jaehyun’s fingertips on your skin, wandering along your shoulder and eventually resting there. “All those years, you dedicated yourself to a simple, peaceful lifestyle to conceal the bloody tumult that you’ve been through. In contrast to your flowery, colorful appearance, your soul was dark and suffering.”
The tip of his index finger then traveled to your chin and lifted it up, and the man whose eyes you locked with were neither your husband here in the palace nor the god of the underworld in the hall of judgment. Somehow they were both.
“If possible, I might love you even more now,” he said before he kissed your tear-stained lips.
____
You shouldn’t sit in the hall of judgment the same day when your sister still wasn’t awake, but there was something you had to be shown according to Jaehyun, which was why he had ridden with you all across the deadlands again.
Today, there was no soul awaiting their judgment, so you wondered why you had been brought here in the first place. Painfully, the truth dawned on you though as Jaehyun urged you to stand in front of the dais and he took his own seat on his throne, the one in which you were supposed to sit empty this time.
You were the one to be judged.
“There was something I have only informed you shortly about the first time you were here,” your husband then opened up as he settled in his throne. “The fact that none of the souls entering the hall has to tell me their backstories. It would consume too much time and they would be able to conceal parts for they cannot straight up lie. I know their entire lives, histories and stories upon entering, they only tell me their point of view, their opinion. And…” He took a meaningful, long pause. “With every soul, I mean every human, dead or alive.”
You stared at him for a moment, your brain processing what then washed over you in shocking realization all at once. With your hand, you covered your mouth, swallowing a gasp. “You always knew?!”
Only then, you were able to relive the scene from three days ago when Taeyong broke down the news to you that someone from your family had come to get you. Jaehyun had known about the circumstances which made you believe that none of them were able to come down here despite you never having told him anything about your mother’s condition and your sister’s age yourself. But back then, you had been so stressed, it had totally passed by you. He had indeed always known.
“It’s true, a decade ago on earth you made a drastic decision to self-judge and rob your father of his life, but you didn’t bring this fate over him. I did when I decided to throw him onto the torture fields. I did the exact same thing as you. So why would I punish you for something that hadn’t only protected you, but also the people you love the most?”
For that, you didn’t have an answer. That your actions could be justifiable, you had always talked yourself into. But you had never been able to shake off the shadow that sometimes crossed your mother’s face when someone mentioned your father or your sister getting bullied for not having one. They believed he was still alive, but didn’t fear he would ever return. If they knew the entire truth, it wouldn’t change anything about their mindset other than seeing you as an entirely different person.
Yes, your lives had gotten considerably better without your father in regards to the living circumstances as he had barely financially and emotionally supported your family anyway. But by the looks of the village people, it had only brought you shame and misfortune to live like this as no one had wanted to marry your handicapped, single mother again - or even you. Subconsciously, you perpetually felt guilty for that you had to live the way you used to live. This all, you also told Jaehyun, and he only shook his head.
“You cannot blame them for feeling this way like they cannot blame you for saving their lives. What if your father was still alive? This is a scenario nobody can answer to rightfully. You couldn’t have sat around, waiting until he would change. Perhaps, you would have lost more than one person. Even when the tiniest part inside of them blames you for not having him around anymore, even if they knew the entire truth, you don’t have to blame yourself too and make amends by playing the commendable child when there is so much more to you.”
“Much… more?”
“You were leading the life of a good daughter, always obedient, always loving. You grew flowers in hope they could conceal the darkness in your heart. But the truth is…” Jaehyun arose from his throne, carefully stepping down the stairs while keeping his hands hidden behind his back, “with the darkness that had settled inside you that day, you would have never been able to live a fulfilling life on earth, that was why you had decided to stay with me in the first place, not because you were scared. You were never afraid of me or anything else down here. You always only wanted to believe that because your mortal side couldn’t justify your true feelings. The moment I saw the true you, I realized I couldn’t let you go. Everything I said, none of that has ever been a lie, I always knew who you were.”
Was that true? Had he seen right through you from the very beginning? The day you had entered the hall from the very first time was the day he had proposed the throne to you without a second thought.
“You fought hard against this, against us, because you thought you owed your life to your mother and sister as you might have ruined theirs to the point of nearly forgetting that you can bloom in your very own way when you don’t dedicate your life to someone else. Of course you love them, but be brave and start loving yourself equally as much. Just like I do.”
For a split second, you were asking yourself whether you had made the wrong decision to eat the pomegranate seeds out of your own free will. But that was what it all boiled down to: Everything you had done happened out of your own free will that you had always been possessing as a human, even here, even now still.
“Listen,” Jaehyun spoke gently when he finally stood in front of you, on the same level, as equals again. “To be my queen is not a duty just any human is capable of. It’s difficult, straining for body and soul, and requires a lot of self-control to not lose your mind. I wouldn’t have proposed this position to you if I hadn’t been sure you harbored all that. Your story has only assured me of the fact that in you, I wouldn’t only find a wife, but someone who thinks and acts the same as me. So today, I pronounce your sentence.”
Even though his words had been sweet and everything you had been longing to hear, the last statement made you shudder. Would he still send you away?
“My sentence for you is to be my queen, to stay by my side and reign alongside me always. Will you accept it?”
You felt something getting placed on the very top of your head. When you raised your arm and came in contact with the object, you touched something heavy and spiky - your very own crown, made of darkness and flowers that would never wither. You had exchanged flowers and pastels for flames and darkness.
“As I said,” your husband smiled proudly this time, “never in my entire lifespan have I ever made a wrong decision. You chose me. You love me. This is real, not the seven silly seeds you ate sealed the deal, but your love for me.”
The king of the underworld had accepted you. He was both the kindest and cruelest thing that had ever happened to you, even if others wouldn’t perceive your tale like this. He had seen the darkness that resided inside you demanded its own throne, and he had shown you how a love like yours could turn even the coldest realm into a warm home.
You had never been afraid. You had never been held captive. You had voluntarily stayed. Why would you have cared about being a human bride when you could have been an eternal queen all along?
Oh, how you wished for everyone to know that the god of darkness who you could also call your husband, had the silkiest hair that felt especially soft when he was on his knees, coaxing spring from inside of you with your thighs wrapped around his neck.
____
“But I don’t want to leave without you,” your sister sobbed and wrapped her arms around you just a bit tighter. “Why can’t you come with me?”
By now, you weren’t able to hold your tears back anymore either, and you just cried in each other’s arms. The horse was already settled and stood by the main gate not far from you. Taeyong had volunteered to bring her back and was waiting there.
“As I told you,” you explained patiently for the nth time to your little sister, “I cannot leave.”
“Did you truly eat the seeds of your own free will?” she asked warily.
You nodded. “I did.”
You weren’t able to bring yourself to tell her the entire truth. One day, if you would ever get the possibility, when she was only a bit older and your paths crossed again, you promised to yourself that you would.
“But how could you! He took you from the earth to a world where not a single living thing can grow and live!”
“Sister, have you seen that every single flower on earth withers away?” You pried her from you and flashed an encouraging smile, all through the veil of blurring goodbye tears. “Where is the difference? Our garden might only be small, but whatever grows there blossoms to its full potential, just like I can.”
“I don’t understand, sis.”
“You don’t have to understand. You only have to believe me.”
“What will I tell mother?” she wanted to know. “She misses you.”
“Tell her I miss her too. And that she’s going to be fine. You’re both going to be fine, even without me.”
“Sis, when will I see you again?”
Another wave of sadness rolled over you, but you swallowed it down this time and brushed over your sister’s hair in a reassuring gesture. “I don’t know.”
“How will I live life without you?”
“Stay kind, confident and courageous, always believe in yourself. After all, you made it all the way down here by yourself only. I wouldn’t have been able to, but you did all that. Do you know how proud you can be of yourself, sis? You’re going to grow up to be such a beautiful, smart and brave woman. I’m certain about that, and I’m already so proud of you, don’t you ever forget that.”
“Actually,” a manly voice interrupted you, and you both simultaneously turned to the side to watch your husband speak, “you don’t have to worry about that, dear. Your sister will come with you.”
“What?” you both called out, also simultaneously, but the fine difference lied in either of your tones.
While your sister’s was full of joy, you barely brought out a syllable that wasn’t dripping with worry and fear. Why would Jaehyun suggest something like that? Had he already forgotten everything he had said to you since your wedding day?
But the smile that spread across your husband’s lips was full of happiness like your sister’s with no hint of grudge as he approached you and placed his palms on each side of your face, looking at you with much love as opposed to his statement. You didn’t understand.
“Why are you sending me away?” you wanted to scream, but only brought out a whisper, fingers clutching onto the hem of his shirt. “Please don’t send me away!”
“I’m not sending you away.” His thumbs caressed your cheeks, and you only noticed then that something had changed in his eyes. It wasn’t a look or a feeling that had been there before, and not weighing on the negative side either. In fact, nothing had been replaced or exchanged, only something slightly different that you couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps, it was all in your mind after all. “I’m sending you to live with your mother and sister each year for six months, spring throughout summer.”
Your brain was still processing when your sister was already expressing her joy through little bumps and screams that gradually turned into a singsong about how you were returning home.
“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun calmed you down. “You are the bones of my spine, the ground beneath my feet, the air I’m breathing in. How could I possibly ever live without you again?”
“But-!”
He silenced you by putting his index finger on your lip. “Every year, when the first flowers bloom, you will be able to return to earth to live with your family. When you see the first leaves falling, that is when I will take you back to the underworld. You will bring spring, bursting with light, and leave with winter, dreary and cold. Does this duality fascinate you too?”
You had so many questions, first and foremost what he traded your freedom for, but you also didn’t have time to ask any of them anymore as every minute that you lingered in the underworld robbed a sliver of your sister’s lifespan.
You expressed your gratitude through hasty kisses with his arms slung around your back regardless of the presence of the other two as these would need to get you through the next months.
“I don’t want you to feel lonely again when I’m gone,” you said to him.
“Don’t worry about that,” he reassured you. “I was patiently waiting half an eternity for you. I can wait another few months every year as long as you always come back to me.”
From now on, you could see yourself as a child of spring, wearing pastel colors and flowers in your hair on earth, and when returning home that was literally the underworld, donned all in black, you would pass sentence on lost souls in the hall of judgment as the queen of hell.
Yes, such duality fascinated you very much.
“Will you wait for me?” you asked when you were seated on the horse’s back with your sister in front and Taeyong behind you.
“Even if it takes you an eternity to come back to me.”
You leaned down, your husband embracing your cheeks on either side and giving you a long kiss that was supposed to last a few months in the moment a breeze came by and lifted the strands of your hair up in a swirl.
He trembled under the last gaze you threw at him before you rode off.
It wasn’t a punishment, it was a reward - for you to see your mother and sister again, and live where flowers grew and never see them wither again.
After all, you’d come back this time, every time.
Out of your own free will.
_____
Jaehyun had known he should have regretted that certain forenoon of hasty decisions on earth. He had sensed you before he even saw you, soft, warm, light - everything he needed his future queen to be, so he didn’t look further as he had gotten spared only one day.
There, in your mother’s garden, sun on your nose and wind in your hair, enveloped in the intense scent of yet to bloom flowers, it made even the hardest of hearts unharden, and suddenly the god of the underworld was only a man with an uncontrollable longing for your innocent sweetness.
“She’s coming back today,” Taeyong said, pulling Jaehyun out of his thoughts. “I’ll pick her up from the river and bring her here.”
“Very well,” Jaehyun answered, trying to downplay his excitement to welcome back his wife after so many months.
But his friend wouldn’t stop budging. “So, when are you going to tell her? What you traded her freedom for?”
“Possibly never, this is not something she will easily find out anyway. It’s not like I traded being a king, a god. We’ll be fine.”
“As long as no one wants to see you dead,” Taeyong stated with rolling eyes.
“Then let’s hope we’ll live alongside in peace,” the king answered dryly and his friend only gave him a long, last sigh in response before riding off to his duty.
Jaehyun had searched for a fitting wife for so long, sick of isolation and darkness, but no one living in the godly realms matched with what he had been looking for. Every resident was involved in an endless game of rivalry, too cunning, too vile to make his already hard life easier. He needed someone simple, timid and narrow-minded who would gladly accept what a god could offer to them without a single complaint. A human.
But the person he had chosen wasn’t all that. In a garden full of colorful plants, he had plucked the most dangerous flower of all. She was as beautiful as a rose, lulling him with her pure appearance and sugary scent, but her thorns stung and could cause him great harm.
Even on that day, he hadn’t made a wrong decision, though it had looked like it in the very beginning as it all boiled down to either his instincts, luck or coincidence. But somehow, he had ended up combining all three and chose her.
His human guest only needed time, he had thought when she fought him like a panther in a cage upon their first meeting, so he had given her a few days to adjust and then intended to break down the advantages for her, hoping she would finally settle here in peace and then do for what he had brought her here: offering him company in all senses.
When she had walked into the dining room that one evening though, in a pastel silk dress he had chosen for his wife himself, looking and smelling like a freshly bloomed flower, but with eyes so fierce, Jaehyun swore he saw fire burning inside them, flames so intense like the ones on the torture fields.
Just like now.
She hadn’t changed one bit since the day they had said goodbye to each other. Dressed all in black now with fiery eyes, she had returned to him, her attire as splendid as the crown in her hair, fitting for the queen of the underworld who was about to start her duties.
They were grinning at each other from afar already, and she was coming to a halt right in front of the dais.
“You’re back,” Jaehyun stated stoically, but his voice shook with emotion when he arose. “I missed you.”
“I am,” you whispered. “And I missed you too.”
When he had been an immortal god, he had felt invincible. But Jaehyun hadn’t felt like this in months, and for a long while, he had been worried about that, about never being able to feel so powerful again.
But as he was holding his wife and his queen in his arms again after such a long period of separation, inhaling her scent, feeling her soft skin, hearing her warm voice whispering his name, he suddenly regained all of what he had thought lost when he had traded his immortality for her freedom, for her true happiness.
He didn’t need his immortality to feel immortal.
He only needed her.
#jaehyun#jeong jaehyun#nct#nct 127#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun scenarios#jaehyun smut#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun x you#nct smut#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct x reader#nct x you#nct 127 x you#nct 127 smut#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 scenarios#nct 127 imagines
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Aaaa I would love maybe a fic? With satoru gojo and non-sorcerer s/o who are forced into an arranged marriage. And s/o wants to make it work but satoru is a brat and refuses to be nice to her but he can't deny his growing feelings for her because she is a lovely girl and then maybe something happens like a curse attack and he almost loses her and feels very guilty for how he's been acting and confesses? Happy ending please
I love angst to fluff stories so much
Thankyou in advance! I love your writing
will you spend the night and maybe your life with me?
satoru gojo x fem!reader | 9.1k+ words
warnings: arranged marraige au, brat!gojo, sweet+patient!reader, hurt/comfort, mentioned of neglectful/hurtful marriage, blood and injury mentions, feral gojo, the fushiguro kids are basically yours so a little found familyish i couldn't help myself, uhh i think that's all but please let me know if i missed anything!
authors note: so um. i think i got a little carried away with this one and i love it and am so exctied about it hehe i hope you enjoy it! <3 thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting something babes!🥺💕
satoru always wondered if before your wedding you were aware that your to-be husband was not happy about being wed. not when this decision was forced upon him by his family and the higher ups of the jujutsu world. he wondered if you blame him for his actions, for his shitty attitude that showed every bit of his distaste, if you wished to marry someone you loved, someone who could treasure your heart and give you their own in return. but surely you had known, just as he had, that you would be married off for politics whether you liked it or not, that marrying for love was not in the cards.
for these many months he can’t say he’s made it easy for you, he knows he hasn’t, and yet you’ve kept smiling, kept being your caring and loving self and putting effort into a man that thus far hadn’t given you much in return. you put up with his lack of kindness, kept welcoming him home and bidding him sweet dreams before sleeping in separate rooms even though for far longer than he’d like to admit now he never said anything in return. you kept leaving sweets on his desk when you knew he’d be up late doing the paperwork he’s always been putting off when he’s never once thanked you for it. he watched you love the fushiguro children just as he had and made him question if perhaps you could love him too.
the first time the question came to mind, when you had scolded both him and megumi for doing something reckless with no anger but rather genuine worry in your eyes, it was the quickest of thoughts. one he pushed out and forgot just as easily as it had come before brushing off everything you said about being more careful to him and megumi. but as more time passed, as you continued to be your lovely self, the thought kept coming, staying for longer, evolving into more questions like.. could he love you- was he already falling in love with you when he was supposed to loathe you? pretend to play the loving and doting husband in public when at home you used to be nothing but strangers but he hates the thought of that now.
being a stranger to your kindness, ignorant of your smile, never being blessed with the melody of your laugh.. he could hardly imagine his life without you but after spending so long rejecting you, pushing you away, was it too late to make amends, to maybe have you love him in return?
right now, while he was trying to sleep, was not the time to be deciding on such things. not when he felt it easier to give in under the light of the moon on your skin and your cute sleepy voice. yet he was restless, his thoughts wandering back to you; if your room felt as soon as his did, if you had eaten dinner alone or with the kids since he hadn’t made it back from his mission until late, if he had even spoken to you at all today except for the text he sent telling you not to wait up for him when you asked if he’d be home for dinner.
brought from his thought, his cerulean eyes are drawn to his closed door, his attention peaked at quiet footsteps and the lights in the kitchen being turned on and dimmed. he taps the screen of his phone to see the time; 2:27 am and doesn’t think twice before getting up from bed and going to the kitchen himself, not caring about putting a shirt on.
you don’t seem to notice him leaning against the wall with his hands in his sweats pockets as you sip a glass of water, your lower back resting against the kitchen island. you're in an oversized shirt and tiny shorts that makes his gaze linger on your body, in your pretty frame, but when he comes back to your face he notices the tears streaming down your cheeks, the tremble of your hands.
lifting from his spot he calls your name, more gentle than he remembers doing before and finds himself frowning at your reaction.
“oh!” you stand a little straighter, put your cup down, try to pretend tears aren’t clinging to your lashes and smile even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. “i’m sorry satoru, i didn’t mean to wake you.”
“you didn’t,” he says, deciding to close the distance between you. he’s always been quite soft to the tears of others but with you.. the sight sinks into his heart like claws of a nasty curse and makes him nearly irrational in the way he would do anything to make your tears stop. your eyes widen a bit in surprise at how close he is to you but you don’t back away from him, don’t resist him when he towers over your shorter frame and reaches for your cheek to wipe a tear you couldn’t hold back. “what's wrong?”
“it’s nothing,” you try to brush it off still with that fake smile and he hates it.
“you’re a terrible liar,” he voice is soft, playful, hopefully hiding the feelings of his heart tightening in his chest and the way his fingers twitch against your skin as he tries to swallow it down. what were you doing to him..
“am not!”
cute, he thinks at your pout and glaring eyes with no bite behind them, though he must admit he much prefers when you smile at him.
is all of you this soft? he ponders as his touch ghosts along the skin of your cheek to under your jaw, curled fingers resting there, keeping your gaze lifted and on him but you could easily pull away if you really wanted to.
“tell me, please,” again he’s speaking so tenderly, with a smile that was meant to fluster, maybe even comfort you and by your reactions anyone could tell how foreign this is to you both. your cheeks flush with warmth and you try to hide your eyes from him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt while deciding what to do, what to say, but you still don’t pull away from his grasp and he’s resisting the urge to pull you closer, to kiss your forehead and tell you it’s okay, the strongest was your husband after all, all the while unable to stop his deepening breaths.
if this was at the beginning of your marriage satoru isn’t sure he would have checked on you. even just a few weeks ago he would have been asking himself how much he should hold back his affections, his comfort, if something like this were to happen but he isn’t sure he could do that anymore, hold back, and those questions hadn’t passed his mind since you saw your sad state tonight.
“it was just a silly nightmare,” you eventually say, quiet and weak. you still don’t look at him but there's no hiding the way you bite at your bottom lip. “i’ll be fine, i just need a few minutes to calm down more.”
“i’ll stay with you then.”
your eyes shoot back to him, confusion and surprise painted on your face and he’s surprised too. what reason would you have for feeling comfort within him or wanting it in the first place? he knows you have every right and reason to tell him no but he just.. doesn’t want to see you cry anymore and he would do anything to take your sorrow away even though all he had to offer you right now was himself.
“a- are you sure?” you stutter, nervousness laced in every word and fuck you look like you’re going to start crying all over again but he knows he deserves this, the guilt building within him. “you don’t have to-”
he pulls you into him before you can talk either of you out of this, effectively cutting off your words and pressing you against his chiseled chest. “come one y/n. can’t a husband want to comfort his wife? indulge me, yeah?”
he still feels shitty but the heat of your cheeks against his chest, the speechlessness he rendered in you is quite the stroke to his ego and he knows he’s won you over, at least for tonight, as you wrap your arms around him and rest your palms against his bare back.
it’s quiet, the muted sounds of your breaths and beating hearts in both your ears and as minutes pass, satoru feels you relax against him and decides he’s going to try pushing his indulgence more, actually try to be a nice and loving husband. the husband he should have been from the start..
“let’s go lay down,” he suggests and you tiredly nod in agreement, letting him go too quickly, before he unwraps his own arms, but he doesn’t stray far from your side.
turning off the kitchen lights behind him, he follows you into your bedroom like a lost puppy. if he’s being honest, he hasn’t spent much time in here despite it being right next to his own room and as he slips into bed beside you, the sheets of his own wife so unfamiliar to him, he hopes you’ll tell him if this isn’t what you want but more than that, he hopes you won't reject him. not like he had to you for these months when you didn’t deserve it..
“satoru, you - you really don’t have-” you stammer as he collects you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest, not a bit of infinity between you as he spoons your smaller frame, collecting your heat. normally he’d have a smirk tugging his lips at your shyness, how easily flustered you become while still clinging to him, but more than anything he cuts you off because he didn’t want to hear your finish telling him he doesn’t have to.
he knows he doesn’t. who knows how many nights you’ve cried alone in this bed but he won’t let that happen anymore, not as long as you were his.
“i said i’d stay with you, didn’t i?”
satoru has always had a specific vision on what love is and he knows he has loved. like in the way he loves his students, his friends, two strong, amazing, children and sweet mochi. he knows that love isn’t painted in roses and blanketed in crystalline sugar, especially when you were a sorcerer. love is complicated, messy. love is a curse. but it's more medeled now, tempting to give into, with his inability to deny what’s in front of him, with the way his heart reacts to you.
or in this case, the way it reacts to the absence of you.
it’s been a few weeks since you had that nightmare and he held you till morning, his hands caressing and soothing you for long after you fell asleep. the following nights he found himself back in your bed even though neither of you spoke about it, but you hadn’t protested either. the last night before this work trip you had whispered his name in your sleep, reached out and clung to him, when you stirred as he joined you after a late night dealing with curses. the past three nights he's been far from home, as work often took him, and more restless than he’s been in a long time.
he can’t ignore or distract himself from how often you pop up in his mind throughout the day, enough so he’s going through his phone pictures as he’s being driven from place to place and frowning at how little pictures of you there are in his album. he had started taking more of you recently, most of which when you weren’t looking or weren’t aware you had captured your husband's eyes but it didn’t feel like enough. throughout the day he's missing you and your smile and the texts you scarcely send to each other aren’t long or personal enough to make him feel even a little better. he’s coming to realize how much more he preferred to have you sleeping next to him rather than sleeping alone and the way it could make him hustle to finish this assignment just to get home a little quicker. tomorrow he'll return to tokyo, a day before he was supposed to, but even that thought can’t stop the bubbling pot of his heart and the lid that rocks anxiously at the thought of you and your marriage thus far.
in the quietness of his dim hotel room, the food he didn’t have the appetite to eat cold on the table in front of the chair he sits in, satoru fiddles with his phone between long fingers and wonders what you’re doing right now, if you miss him too, if it’s too late for you-
love was messy and complicated indeed but as his phone rings twice and a moment later his reflection is replaced with your visage, that anxious rocking simmers.
“hey satoru,” you smile as you say his name, not noticing how he returns it in full with your eyes focused elsewhere.
your phone wiggles from side to side while tsukimi adjusts it to rest on the ledge of the kitchen window in front of the sink. you must have just finished with dinner, washing the dishes while the kids cleaned up behind you.
“hi sugar.” oh that gets your attention just as he hoped. he can hear the clattering of dishes as you drop them, see the flush of your cheeks through the camera and how adorably shy you are when you look up at him finally and see he’s without his blind fold, eyes soft and locks of snowy white hair resting over his eyebrows. his attention is fully on you and it seems to be the giggles of the teenage girl whipping off the counter near you that snaps you back to reality and causes you to return your attention back to the dishes, trying to hide your embarrassment.
“is everything okay?” you ask, that cute shyness to your voice.
of course it was just like you to worry for him, even if he didn’t deserve it.
“other than the fact i’m missin’ home, yeah.” home, he chooses because even though he was missing you, and meant his answer just the same, his stubbornness had him holding back.
while you finish the dishes you chit chat, the kids interrupting every now and again to talk to him or you about one thing or another until you were all giggling and he was aching to teleport back home, to be there drying plates that you hand him until you’re swaying in the kitchen to music that isn’t playing anywhere but your hearts and the kids are calling you gross before going to their own rooms.
he had never done that before but as he watched you all through his phone screen, he hoped it wasn’t too late for that with you.
“how was your day?” he asks when you grab your phone from the window seal, probably ready to say goodnight to him but he wasn’t nearly satisfied with this short interaction.
“well.. megumi got in trouble at school again today,” you sigh and shake your head, the background behind you changing from the kitchen to your bedroom, the lights in the far hallway from the kids room flickering on before they close their doors. he’s sure you handled megumi in your elegant way that both the boys have learned they aren’t immune to.
satoru chuckles. “did he give you any trouble?”
“you know he’s not really like that with me,” you smile, genuine and sweet and god he wishes he could kiss your lips. “he only gives you trouble because you’re just as bad as he is.. maybe worse.” you giggle at that last part and there is no way denying or ignoring the way it makes him burst with warmth.
“oh yeah?” he teases right back. “bet you’re missing your annoying husband though, huh?”
maybe he shouldn’t have said that because your prolonged silence made his throat feel tight, his palms sweaty but before he can say anything to make up for it, to change the subject, you reply, not looking at the camera.
“.. the house is lonelier when you’re not here,” you admit, quiet and low. “i guess i’ve gotten a little used to sharing a bed with you.”
so you were having a hard time sleeping without him too..
“me too,” he admits, letting out a sigh like your confession had lifted a weight off his chest, pumped hope into his veins. would you care to know just how much he misses you? “but i’ll be home soon so just wait a little longer for me, yeah?”
“o-okay.”
to the surprise of many satoru was at jujutsu tech reporting on his mission right on time, though he was leaving just as swiftly as he came. he purposely didn’t tell you he’d be coming home one day early because he knew you’d be coming to the school tomorrow to bring megumi to train with some of the other students. it would still be another two year before megumi was a first year himself but he had gotten plenty acquainted with the current first years through satoru. he wanted to surprise you, whisk you away while the kids were busy and before more work could come his way, try to ease the longing in his chest that had weighed on him like a boulder since he spent that first night without you beside him.
but what weighed on him when he saw you, unaware of your husband's arrival and under the attention of one of the new teachers, was much much worse and far nastier than his yearning. it was ugly and all consuming and made his mind run so quickly he was going to get whiplash.
the man couldn’t be any more obvious that he was flirting with you and it made satoru seeth, his chest filling with deep, hot breaths. couldn’t he see the wedding band on your finger? as a non sorcerer you weren’t entirely a part of the jujutsu world yourself so maybe he could justify that this man simply didn’t know who you were but even when you likely had not wanted to, you were always diligent in wearing the proof of your commitment.
the proof that you were his, the one and only mrs. gojo.
and what were you doing? laughing and talking with this man like you were so familiar, more familiar than you were to your own husband.
were you so fed up with satoru but so unwilling to end your arranged marriage that you’d go behind his back like this and entertain another person? if he was in a more calm state of mind he could be more rational, remind himself that this was not in your nature, not even with the way he had treated you had you ever been a person he thought would cheat. but with so much uncertainty between you two, the way he refused to admit those three words despite the fact he found them occupying his heart and mind anytime he thought of you, how he had no idea how you felt in return because he had forced you to shut yourself away..
the man reaches for you, helping you brush a stay piece of hair from your face to behind your ear and lingers with a smile that satoru swore he would wipe right off his smug face. your fingers touch, the man lacing his between yours for a moment before you pull away with burning cheeks.
satoru feels like he’s losing it, losing you, letting his emotions guide him to your side to snake a hand around your waist and step so very close, not letting the breeze between you, using his other hand to lift your chin and bring you in for a soft and fleeting kiss.
“i’m home baby,” he coos before kissing your cheek, a little for show but mostly because the only thing he had the will to hold back right now was his physical strength.
“s-satoru!” you’re beyond flustered, he can feel the beating of your heart through your clothes and the shake of your hands that hold onto his dark jacket.
he doesn’t give you much more time to say or do anything else before he looks down at the man you were speaking with and even through his blind fold you could tell how serious, how intimidating, his expression was. he held onto you so protectively, powerful hands sinking into your skin like you would slip through his grasp if he let you go but soft enough you wouldn’t break under the pressure. the way you don’t push away, don’t fight him and keep holding onto his jacket, your eyes only on your husband, are the only things grounding him from losing it completely..
“keep your hands off of my wife,” he spits like venom, accentuating the last part especially so before whisking you away without saying another word and he doesn’t say anything to you either the farther and farther you get from the man. you nearly trip over your feet trying to follow his long strides as he's huffing and practically dragging you along with him with a large hand around your wrist.
“satoru, please slow down. what’s wrong?” your words fall on deaf ears. he isn’t hearing anything but his own echoing thoughts and his unsteady, drumming, heartbeat until you’re in a quiet and secluded place on campus and he finally looks at you, so many emotions written on your face; confusion, fear, worry.
“what in the world has gotten into you?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.
“you’re mine,” his profession is muffled and near inaudible under his steaming breaths, not a bit of his sanity returning with how it looks like he’s scared you, how he’s coming to realize he might have lost you long ago and didn’t know it. “what were you doing letting him hit on you like that?” he hardly knows what he’s saying, the words coming out without thinking.
“are you serious?” you ask, devastation laced in your tone. “he was just being nice and if he wasn’t.. it’s not like i was.. why.. why do you care?”
“you’re my wife!”
“when has that ever mattered? that's never stopped you from flirting with anyone before and i.. i’ve never said anything..” tears start to pool in your eyes and the last bit of the grip he’s had on this situation slips completely. please don’t cry.. i know i’ve fucked up but.. “even when it hurt i didn’t..”
“it’s not like i asked to marry you - but-”
before he can tell you, but that was back then because he hadn’t looked into another's way since these feelings started; before he can realize what he’s said and the way it would hurt you further, you interrupt, unable to hold back your tears.
“i didn’t ask for this either satoru,” your voice is broken and he knows every waver behind it and your tears are full of months worth of bottled up emotions from when you smiled despite his bullshit. “..but i'm trying.” in a matter of painfully slow seconds you're sobbing as you rip your wrist from his grasp and he feels his heart cracking, the cold nail of your withdrawal striking against the pumping muscle. “i.. just..” it's as though you want to say more and even if there wasn’t a lump in his throat making him utterly speechless, he wouldn’t have interrupted, he would have let you scream and yell and spew hurtful words. “i have to go..”
that nail digs deeper and he fights it, reaches for you and calls your name, feeling it stop when he’s met with the softness of your skin but the strongest strike, the blow that embeds it deep, was the way you cry out his name, begged him to let you go with crystalline tears flowing uncontrollably from your eyes and down your cheeks.
“satoru, let me go! please!”
you know you should be used to his hurtful words by now. they’ve been thrown at you for months, if he chose to speak to you at all. though you can admit that things have gotten better, if not a bit confusing. you would never deny your marriage was turning around, not when weeks ago you weren’t sure if you were going to survive not divorcing and avoid facing the consequences of that with both your families but now you felt yourself genuinely and completely falling for your husband.
yes he was so unbelievably handsome, charming to match, well, when he wanted to be. anyone could see that but the longer you were married to satoru the more you saw his heart, despite the fact he thought he was hiding it from you. he couldn’t hide the way he loved the fushiguro children and had since he started to look after them or the way he turned younger, more reckless around shoko, a reminder of more carefree years. in short and infrequent moments sometimes his heart was opened to you too and during those times, when you weren’t his enemy but rather a part of his family, made you wonder what it might be like had you had a normal marriage and married satoru for love or fell in love somewhere in the mess of how it started.
it was a ridiculous thought. you knew it would never be like that, you didn’t ask that of him and you didn’t entirely blame him for his behavior. he had chosen not to be nice but it was just like you to be patient, understanding and kind. by being the one he was forced to marry, you did understand why that dislike would be directed at you even though you know it didn’t make it fair, didn’t make it okay.
after all of that, months of feeling like a burden to the strongest sorcerer in the world, you didn’t expect to find yourself wanting, maybe even needing, your husband or that he might want you too. he had been around so much more recently, whether it had been him coming home in time to have dinner with you nearly every night or to be sleeping next to you or spending all night facetiming with you while he was on a trip until you fell asleep, like he had last night. but those feelings he had made bloom within you brought with them greater pain when hurtful reminders of the truth of your commitment came back to the surface.
‘i didn’t ask for this.’
how many times had you heard that by now? you had stopped keeping count, for your own sanity, but this time had by far been the worst. you fought so damn hard not to cry, to stay strong but still you burst into more tears than you wanted to shed in front of him.
maybe it was time to give up, consequences be damned.. how much more did you really have in you? how were you supposed to get through these mixed signals and still leave with your heart intact? and why did it break it further to see the pain written on his face when you ran from him?
you weren’t sure you could bear to be home, not when there were reminders of satoru everywhere, including your bedroom now as some of his nightstand items had made it to your room and had kept you company in his absence the past few days.. an absence that would apparently be longer even though you still missed him. he would show up there eventually anyways, was maybe there now but at this moment you didn’t have it in you to fight more, to be reminded of how little you meant to your husband when all this time you would have done anything to be sure he was happy too. when you found yourself holding him closer and closer to your heart.
you can admit that you didn’t handle your last interaction with your husband the best either though. asking why he cared when you knew the reason didn’t really matter. what reason had you had to hurt over the others he flirted with other than the fact he was your husband on paper? you had just never acted on the emotions swirling within you during those times aside from crying alone and by yourself but satoru was never really one to hold back. and the way it made you feel when he proclaimed you as his in such a way, when he held you so close to him, kissed you like he hadn’t before, like you really were his and he didn’t intend to let you go. it made you happy, confused and upset all at once.
was it all just for show? but then why comfort you after a nightmare or do any of the more thoughtful gestures he had shown recently? you had hardly seen his eyes ever that soft for you before, maybe in moments of pity then, but that wasn’t what this was and like the waters filled with the bluest stars and galaxies, you waded into their azure depths. found comfort in its warmth and the way he wrapped you in the protective blanket of his arms. you woke up with him still sleeping soundly, peacefully, while holding you and hadn’t had the bed to yourself since.
he seemed sweeter after that; hardly ever missing dinner, especially when he knew you’d be eating alone when the kids couldn’t join you. his texts throughout the day became more frequent, less transactional and though it still happened from time to time, his stinging words became less harsh. and when he called you last night, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, how you both lost track of the time until you woke up with your phone in your hand and a goodnight text sent after he had hung up. things almost felt normal, like maybe you really could be friends but there was no denying that your heart was feeling much more than that. still, you were cautious, kept your feelings closed off and hidden but you now realize somewhere along the way it wasn’t enough, not when it could let those painful reminders dig their way deep into your flesh in a way it hadn’t before.
satoru once told you, within the first few days of your marriage, that he had no intention of ever loving you and that you shouldn’t try loving him either. that love was a curse that wasn’t worth his trouble when it came to you.
perhaps you were finally understanding what he meant and were ready to give up, but after all this effort.. would it be easier for the both of you to not be tied together, burdened by your growing feelings when he would never feel the same? or would you become the curse of his life because you had done the one thing he had told you not to do, fall for him, and continued to try to make it work despite it?
instead of going home you let your aimless feet carry you, just as your mind carried away your many thoughts until your tears stopped, until your heart numbed and you were left feeling empty and tired. there were so many quiet whispers in the back of your mind, worries and reminders of your failing arrangement, so many questions without answers but you tried to shake them off, tried to quiet them so you could have a moment to just breathe. maybe then you could try to make sense of it all, though you weren’t sure you would ever understand all of the different emotions satoru was putting you through.
you aren’t really sure where you’ve ended up, somewhere on a cold bench as the afternoon turned to evening. you ignored the way your phone rang and the pings of the messages that came through. right now you didn’t have the energy or strength to do anything, are on the verge of giving up when your heart is screaming that you couldn’t possibly and all you can do is sit in your loneliness, back to more familiar times in your marriage, as you watch people pass you by.
in the end, when the evening sky began to cover the city in colder air and little light, you knew it was time to go home, to face this even if you weren’t ready to. maybe it would be easier if this was older times, when you knew you could walk through the front door with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks but it wouldn’t make satoru look your way. so you could hide away, pretend you weren’t breaking on the inside until you could face him with a smile again. but it couldn’t be like that anymore, not when the cause of your pain had also become your comfort, your most restful nights on hard days, the giggles you erupt in when he’s being silly and teasing, the person you wanted to hold you when dark fog surrounded you and threatened to swallow you whole.
you’re surprised to see the time on your phone, how late it actually is and just how many messages have come through. the latest one being from satoru; y/n please come home
it makes your heart feel like it’s beating again and you don’t know if it's good or bad, if you feel better or worse. all you knew is your chest aches and you do want to be home even if it scares you to not know what’s waiting for you; the satoru that seems to have grown soft for you, that couldn’t stand to see you cry, or the husband that said ‘i do’ not minutes before reminding you how much he detested your union.
your finger hovers over the call button, the small icon picture of him and megumi looking back at you but before you can call him back, not even sure if you were prepared to, a crowd of terrified screams pulls you from your phone and frantically you look around for its source, unsure if someone needed help or if you were in danger too.
before you can react after realizing which it was, that you were mostly certainly in danger and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it, your world begins to fade into black. the last thing you remember is hearing your husband's voice and a pitiful call of his name escaping your lips as your body falls to the ground, the scent of copper filling your senses before all consciousness is taken from you.
satoru stares at his phone with wide glowing eyes, tearing off his blind fold like it was possibly skewing his vision, messing with his other scenes despite that being impossible. for a moment he felt the first drops of relief seeing you finally return his call. you had ran from him so quickly and with it took his heart, left him standing there with a gapping, bleeding, hole in his chest that made it impossible to move. it’s been long agonizing hours since then, unable to reach you, not knowing what you were doing or where you were or if you were okay. he knew you weren’t and that it was all his fault.
finally, you were calling him but the first thing he heard was not the sweetness of your voice. instead his ears rang with the screams of others, the crumbling of concrete and a pleading call of his name from his wife that brought him past the point of manic in a matter of seconds.
he doesn’t dare hang up the phone but it’s not helping hearing noises of destruction that he can’t quite make out and the silence of your voice with each gut wrenching call of your name that’s begging you to say anything but continues to be met with silence.
the wildness in his eyes lingers but his attention is brought from his phone screen to the sniffles coming from the doorway to the living room where megumi and tsukimi stand with fear in their own eyes, tears streaming down her sullen face. had they ever seen gojo like this? tsukimi reaches for her brother's hands, to bring some comfort to them both even though she’s far worse off than megumi right now. or at least she’s the only one outwardly showing it. satoru can see the rise in megumis energy despite him wanting to remain strong for his sister.
she’s the first to speak too, reminding satoru that he wouldn’t be the only one suffering without you. “w-whats wrong? where- wheres y/n? is she going to be okay?” she doesn’t give him a moment to answer before she's crying out, “gojo!”
in a few long strides he’s standing in front of him, their seafoam and brown eyes staring back at him, his phone still connected on your call slipped into his pocket so his hands are free to pat both of their heads, ruffling their soft hair in tandem, keeping the last thin strand of his sanity from breaking until he could promise them none of them would ever be without you.
“don’t worry,” he says, that confident smile on his face. “i’ll bring her home safe. i’m the strongest after all.”
in a moment he’s teleported away, swearing to turn over all of japan in search of you. his presence was so overwhelming, the air nearly crackling with the electricity emanating from his barely contained furry. he’d let that barrier shatter soon, when it would be to his best advantage in bringing you home, until then the auxiliary managers helping him find your location through the never ending curse reports were under the pressure of the strongest sorcerer might.
the moment ijichi gave him the most likely places you could be, an eerie thankful smile came on gojos lips before he disappears, the light air finally returns the moment he was gone, before he can even mention there are already sorcerers on the scene. ijichi just hopes they’ve had the time to put the veil up before gojo goes all out without a second thought and that they’ve gotten you out of there. for everyone’s sake.
from the point in the sky where satoru hovers, just above the curtain trying to keep this shit show of a grade one contained, messy white locks blowing in the wind high above, it doesn’t take a moment for his six eyes to sense you. not when they had spent countless minutes taking in every bit of you when you thought he was looking at others..
he swears he’ll make it up to you. even if you could never love him back or forgive him, from this day on he wouldn’t hold back, he wouldn’t deny it. he loves you and the thought of losing you, in any way, without ever admitting it to you and asking for a chance to show you he meant it, is tearing him apart.
he’d get the chance to tell you, to shower you in his unbridled affection like you had always deserved, try to be the husband you could maybe love one day too. even if you couldn’t love him.. if he could make sure you kept smiling, that you could continue to be your amazing loving self, he would do anything.
the atmosphere back on solid ground is thick, the sky covered in a dark blanket that matches how dreariness seeps into every crack in the sidewalk, into the roots of the trees and across crumbles of buildings and cars that laid around. buried beneath it, alive but still somehow so lifeless, holding onto the phone still calling his, was you. blood dripping down your pretty face, debris and dust coating your skin, the disgusting curses attention on you as well.
satorus presence electrified the air enough so to make the grass stand up straight, his deep breaths huffing white clouds in the cold air, his blue orbs standing out like the eyes of an ethereal creature in the fog. a devil more so than an angel, one that would burn the world down to protect those he loves, even if he had failed at it before. the look of him would have stopped any sorcerer in its track, sent smaller curses scurrying away and it had kept this grade one from moving another inch, just like he intended
he was so gentle in the way he lifted off every piece of destruction that kept you pinned to the ground and pulled you into his arms with ease, infinity compassing you so nothing else could touch you except for him. nothing would ever hurt you again. it all happened so quickly to the world around him but in his eyes everything moved in slow motion. the way your eyes flutter open behind your lashes as he picks you up, unsure of what was going on around you, not fully conscious but enough so to whisper his name from chapped lips and hold onto him with the remaining strength that you had.
“‘toru..” a few tears roll down your cheeks, mixing with the blood still dripping from your hairline, draining the color from your face, making you so very weak.
“i’m here angel,” his voice sounds so unfamiliar to you both, shaking with pain and rage, relief and regret. “hold on a little longer for me, yeah?”
it takes everything in him to take his eyes off of you. you were now passed out in his arms and couldn’t say anything, couldn’t see the swirls of red and blue as they merged into deep purple and shook the earth beneath satorus feet. he only spares the curse a long enough glance to aime, holding you with one arm so tightly, feeling your shallow beating heart through his shirt soaking in your blood as he uses the other hand to use his jujutsu. the world around him is engulfed in purple, pulverizing the curse, shredding the trees, blowing out the windows of nearby buildings and burning the grass but the destruction he’s caused is the last of his concern.
all that’s left in the wake of his furry is your silhouettes in the smoke and aftershock, the strongest sorcerer reduced to nothing more than a man shedding tears over his wife's limp body in his arms, kissing her cheeks as he pulls her so impossibly close before disappearing into thin air.
ieiri was the only person who could coax satoru to release you, sympathetic to the agony behind his eyes, not unfamiliar to it from when another left his life, but she was still seriously insistent that if he didn’t let you go, didn’t let her heal you, then he really might lose you. the fight to keep him out of the surgical room so he wasn’t suffocating her while she worked, so he didn’t have to see how truly worse off you might be with your lack of jujutsu to have helped you through this, was far more difficult, left satoru begging his friend to not let him leave your side but in the end he gave in and anxiously he waited outside the room.
he was still covered in dirt and blood. it wasn’t the first time but it was the first time it had ever been yours and he hoped it would be the only time, wished it had never happened at all. he blames himself and as he sat in silence, dying on the inside not knowing what was going on in the other room, he recalled his sacred oath to protect you till death due you part. it hadn’t meant anything to him when he said it and back then he never would have thought he’d be here, willing to give anything to get on his knees before you at that alter, bury his face into your middle while his hands hold you close and he swears to you that he will cherish you, protect you, love you, until death takes him from you.
with his head buried in his hands, head hanging low, tears pooling on the ground near his feet, he can’t help but think how right he was about love being a curse. nothing had brought him more pain and agony than love. there was nothing that had torn his heart apart like love had but for fucks sake he wasn’t ready to lose you too, to lose the most amazing parts of your love before he even got a true taste of it, before he could do you right by you and attempt to make up for his mistake.
long fingers grip onto strands of snowy hair and tug. he’s sure some would find it laughable to see the strongest in such a pitiful state, with no ability to fight back with annoying words and cocky smiles when the thought of being without you and your light made him think he’d never smile again. he didn’t want you to leave without knowing his love either, not when he had so much of it to give to you now that the cage he held it behind was shattered and forgotten.
his chest aches in a way it never has before. it made him sick to his stomach, angry enough to release all of his power at once, consequences be damned, it turned his tears from sorrowful to full of self pity to hysterics at what a world without you might be like. all because he broke his promise, because he had been a blind idiot and a stubborn fucking ass hole. would he never get the chance to show you with confidence how much you meant to him? he knows he didn’t deserve it but if.. no, when you make it out of this, he swears he’ll give you all of him. reject him, tell him you hate him, ask for a divorce and tear his heart out- none of it would stop him from trying to win your heart, from letting you go.
the more time that passes the more he feels like he’s losing it for the third time that day. he’s restless, sitting and bouncing his leg, getting up to walk just to pace the hallway endlessly until he ended up right back where he started and started the cycle all over again. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.
shoko could yell at him all she wanted. he had to see you and know you were okay, to tell you he loves you and-
“gojo, take a breath okay?” ieriris voice breaks him from his thoughts, stops him from not even bothering to use the door and just teleport past the walls. “i told you i’d take care of her and i meant it.”
in a few steps he’s in front of her, leaning down to envelope her in a hug. he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath and let out the pent up air when she hugged him back. it wasn’t usual they shared moments like this but when it was.. it was when they were at their most vulnerable. even when they were younger, even when geto left them. his arms shook around her, silently begging for what he could not find the words to say.
“she’ll be fine,” her voice is soft, understanding to how he feels about you and thankful he’s done being a shithead about it. “she’s asleep for now but you can go in as long as you’ll let her rest.”
he didn’t wait a moment, didn’t even break their hug, before he teleported to your side and left shoko to smoke outside while she gave him some time alone with you. he was quiet and hesitant to touch you even though his fingers screamed to feel your skin, feel your pulse and prove to him without a doubt that you were okay. he saw it with his powerful eyes, your now clean skin, a few bandages here and there but your major injuries were healed. you looked so similar to how you did when sleeping at home and there was no doubting the truth in front of him but it wasn’t enough to ease the tightness of his chest.
let you rest. it was hard to do when he would have melted his body with your own given the chance but for now he’d have to settle for your smaller hand resting in his and the caress of his thumb against your soft skin swiping back and forth in comforting and gentle motions. you were warm, much warmer than the last time he held you and he swore he could cry at the feeling.
thank god for shoko and your resilience that filled him with such pride to call you his.
sitting on the chair next to your hospital bed, he lowers his head to rest against the hand he held, soft white hair tickling your skin as he kisses you knuckles and whispers an apology he would repeat to you in his words and actions for the rest of his life if he had to, until he could prove to you his utter devotion.
he isn’t sure how much time has passed and didn't notice that he had fallen asleep resting his head on you while waiting for you to wake up. his body ached, for more reasons than just the awkward sleeping position, he had gone through a whirlwind of emotions in one day and only next to you, knowing you would be okay, could he finally relax from it all but at the smallest twitch of your fingers he's alert, his head shooting up and he waits eagerly, moving from the chair to your bed, body hovering about yours, never letting go of your hand but instead pressing it against over his beating heart with gentleness, as you slowly wake up.
you blink slowly, your eyes in obvious protest and still heavy with exhaustion as you try to become more aware of your surroundings and what had happened with the aching of your head and a familiar scent in your nostrils.
“satoru?” you croak and in response he cradles your face in his hands, strokes your cheeks, kisses your lips soft and sweet and honest. your arms are weak and shaky but that doesn’t stop you from reaching for him and when you feel him shaking too, you ask, “are you okay?” oh that’s right.. you were fighting.. the remembrance was written on your face. “i'm.. i’m sorry i left so suddenly..”
leaning his forehead against your own, the laugh he lets out is full of relief and disbelief and is warm against your face. how could you possibly ask about his well being now or be the one apologizing? “my silly girl.” but it was the most wonderful thing to hear your voice and it takes all of his strength. he catches your wobbly smile and blushing cheeks before he collapses against you, enveloping you in his arms and letting his face rest in the crook of your neck, warm tears dropping along your collarbone.
his words, his confession, is all he can manage to say in his state and he whispers it against your skin, kissing you skin after each repeat of the words he would never hold back again. “i love you.”
bonus!
neither of you had expected to walk into the house and smell something delicious being made, ginger and onions and other delicious things that made your stomach growl with one whiff. you could hear the pair arguing and tsumiki pulling the big sister card before they become silent upon hearing your husband coo at you to be good and stay still followed by a defeated huff and a triumphant chuckle.
satoru had hardly let you go since leaving the hospital, even before that- from the moment you woke up he was touching some part of you, and insisted on carrying you up the steps even though you could walk just fine. at most you were tired and sore but not enough to render you unable to use your limbs.
in the end, it was impossible to say no to him. he wasn’t going to let you either so with burning cheeks you agreed to let your husband carry you bridal style into your home and held onto his strong shoulders as he so effortless carried you. he didn’t put you down once you were inside either, despite your protests, smirking at you when you wiggled in his arms but he only tightened his grip.
his overzealous affection and care didn’t stop there either and it only spurred him on when you became flustered because of it. oh loving you was going to be so very fun, he thought as you pouted when he wouldn’t let you feed yourself the meatballs megumi and tsumiki made together. you all ate on the couch, to be sure you were comfortable and resting like shoko had said you should, also because the table didn’t allow any of them to be close enough to you. tsumikis eyes welled up with tears when gojo told them what happened over dinner but when he patted her head with a wide smile and promised her nothing like this would ever happen again, looking at megumi and telling him he should look after both you and his sister too, you all smiled and laughed. he didn’t speak the words outloud but satoru swore he would remarry you right here and now when you returned your own promise to watch after them too, in your own loving way.
it was obvious that gojo was jealous of the kids hanging all over you, even megumi hardly left your side and was as doting as he was whenever his sister was ill. satoru couldn’t help but make you all of you blushy cheeked for different reasons when he pulls you into his lap and kisses your cheek before trying to whisk you away to your bedroom with a promise for naughty things that he didn’t intend to follow through with just yet, not until you told him you were ready and not until you were all healed up so he could love you properly.
the kids were too quick on their feet, laughing and arguing about who would sleep where while trying to push past the tall man even with his long and fast strides. he couldn’t keep them away no matter how hard he tried and admitted defeat when they jumped into bed after you.
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#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojou#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo#gojou x reader#jjk x reader
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PUT MY LIPS TO SOMETHING ┊ MIYA OSAMU
synopsis: after a string of terrible dates taking a break sounded ideal. then Miya Osamu happens, and you find yourself back at square one. foolish, hoping, and hungry.
tags: GN reader, post timeskip, (blind) first date, reader is a foodie (and has a big appetite), implied bad past experiences (ppl mean about said apetite), insecurities (not about weight), strangers to lovers, sharing food + feeding each other, flirting, romantic + sexual tension, first kisses, *slaps roof of kitchen* you can fit so much Love into this thing!!!!!!!
wc: 5K
The evening laid bare in strokes of colour. The air is tepid. People part around your inert figure as you stand to the side and watch, shifting awkwardly between each foot. You were ten minutes early. And it seemed so was your date.
You exhale, palm laid over your rapidly beating heart. You’re not sure what your expectations were after agreeing to let Saeko set you up on this blind date but Miya Osamu exceeded. A beautiful stranger. Tall, broad shouldered with dark hair and hooded eyes. The dress shirt he’s wearing is close to a second skin, drawn tight around his back and clinging just slightly to his soft middle, shirtsleeves rolled to the crook of his arms.
On a whole you trusted her judgment. Apparently he owned the small restaurant she and her colleagues frequent for their lunch hour. She promised that he was handsome, which was plain to see, and effused repeatedly that the two of you would work well together. Nevertheless you can’t help feeling cautious.
Dating has been… tricky at best. A game to some, a way to keep score. The search for validation. A means to an end. A fleeting cure to boredom. You don’t think you’re particularly bad at meeting new people, but it can’t be ignored that you don’t have much to show for it thus far.
You’re aware enough to discern the root cause. You loved food—that’s the long and short of it. You savoured meals to the very last crumb, seeking out the various flavours on your tongue to really get to the heart of the dish. Because that’s what food did: it loved back.
Dates often treated you like a different creature entirely upon witnessing your appetite. Poorly veiled embarrassment, or concern, or disdain as you sat across from one another and ate. Different in a lesser way, in a distasteful way, as though they were sampling fine wine for the flavour and you were just drinking for the sake of getting drunk, when it was quite the reverse.
Anyone would think you behaved like an animal. Your table manners were fine. You treated the staff with respect. You made conversation and asked questions, even when they made no effort themselves, and tried to make the best of the evening.
With every failed attempt at making a connection you were beginning to grow lonely. The presence of your loved ones and their families, their partners and their children, never truly filled that cavernous ache in your chest. Poured in like morning sun with hopes to warm you from the inside out, perhaps, only all that ever did was make the hole more obvious to you.
Taking a break from the scene sounded ideal. Then Miya Osamu happened to see a photo of you over Saeko’s shoulder, expressed his interest, and you found yourself back at square one. Foolish, hoping, and hungry.
There’s phantom heat around your fingers. The gentle squeeze of Saeko’s hands as she sent you off. “This one will be different,” she told you. With her words echoing in your thoughts, you pat down either side of your hips, ironing out the creases, and start toward him.
Osamu is leaning against the outer wall now, scrolling on his phone. A warm musk fills your senses as the distance shortens. Smooth notes of oakmoss and vanilla. He must notice your approach in his periphery, because he straightens up and steps forward, turning to face you with an apprehensive smile. The attraction between you becomes tangible before either of you speak a word.
"Hi," you smile back, oddly at ease to see that he is equally nervous. "Miya, right? I think I'm here to meet you".
The tension slips from his posture and from yours in turn. His smile grows and deepens the crinkles by his eyes as his gaze sweeps over you. Dawn casts the street in a peachy tint and it dapples across his cheeks in a faux blush. "Sure hope so," he says. "Call me Osamu. Ya look beautiful, by the way".
Something rouses in your chest. You're warm now. His accent is unfairly charming, like the rest of him. "Thank you," you reply, lingering on the delicate silver chain around his wrist, and how the folded fabric of his sleeve strains around his forearm. "So do you".
"Beautiful?" Osamu echoes, brow arched with the teasing lilt in his voice.
You hum, drawn to the natural heat emitting from his body. "S'what I said, isn't it?"
"So you did," he murmurs, the low timbre settling over you like silk. When your eyes meet he rocks back on his heels, clearing his throat and gesturing to the restaurant he picked for tonight. "I made a reservation for us. Wanna head in?"
"I'd love to".
As if entering another world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You step through the tall latticed doors into what appears to be a bistro-style restaurant. All autumn pigments and harmony. Family owned, from what you recall after searching it up last night. The main dining area has a romantic ambience to it, balmy toned lanterns centred on each table and an open kitchen where the chef is lovingly making a yakisoba dish.
"Tanaka mentioned yer a bit of a foodie," you blink from your appreciative stupor and glance at Osamu. "Apparently they serve really good European food here so," he rubs at the back of his neck, a little pink and unsure, his shoulder jerking in a loose shrug. "Thought'cha might like it".
Your heartbeat floods your ears. "I really like it," you say, hushed, flustered at his thoughtfulness. Before he's able to respond a host has approached, young and dressed in a well pressed black vest, not a thread out of place. He bends into a perfect bow.
“It is a pleasure to welcome you this evening. Will it be a table for two?”
Osamu sidles closer. There's presence at your lower back, his hand lingering, and you decide to lean into it. “There should be a reservation for two under the name Miya,” he nods. The host brightens.
“Of course! Right this way".
The host takes off toward the rear dining area, hidden from view. Osamu encourages you forward and as you walk together he leans to whisper in your ear, "We haven't seen the best part yet".
You immediately understand what he's referring to as you're led through a pair of golden drapes and into a conservatory space that looks out on a lustrous bamboo grove and a small koi pond. Your table is right by the stretch of windows, offering a lovely view. It steals the breath straight from your lungs, “Osamu…”
Once seated the host returns to offer you a pair of damp towels on a tray. Osamu orders a drink while he wipes his hands, and then you do the same. You sink into the cushioned back of your chair. A shoe brushes your ankle and retreats to settle alongside it, just a couple of inches. The centrepiece gently breathes to life, illuminating the table.
Anticipation trickles back in as Osamu voices his gratitude and you realise you’ll need to order in front of him. His focus turns to you as the host departs, discerning your expression. “D’ya wanna order a starter first?” he asks, sliding a menu to you.
The menu is thick and glossy. You make a commiserate sound, thumb plucking at the corner of the card. “Everything sounds really good. I’ve never had carottes ra—âpées,” you murmur, skimming excitedly over the dishes and listing off the things that catch your eye.
A low chuckle interrupts your train of thought. Rather than underlying irritation, you’re met with amusement and curiosity. “Really do like yer food, huh?”
Heat floods your body, and you resist the urge to grimace. “Sorry, I can get carried away. Is there anything you want to try?”
“Thinking of getting grilled octopus and canola to start and the sea bream for main,” he recites, studying you in the low light. Muffled are the far off sounds of meat popping on the hot stove-top and you can smell a sweet, coconut-like aroma. “Don’t need to be embarrassed y’know. I’m a food lover too”.
You perk up noticeably in your seat and Osamu’s expression near melts into sheepishness. “You run a restaurant, right? Saeko mentioned”.
“Ah, yeah. Onigiri Miya. Nothin’ as grand as this,” he gestures to the surroundings offhandedly. Your eyes linger on the flex of his throat as he swallows, pride bleeding into his voice. “Won a Food Made Good award though, just last month”.
“No kidding. Congrats Osamu, that’s amazing,” you grin, instinctively leaning into his magnetism and resting your hands on the table surface. Osamu seems to mirror your movement without meaning to. “Have you always wanted to run a restaurant?”
“Never really thought about it. Up to the end of my second year I assumed I’d fall into somethin’,” he admits. “I sorta hit the ground running after graduating. My brother too—”
“Excuse the interruption. I have your drinks,” interjects a new timid voice. The server shuffles forward to set the glasses between you on the table and then fumbles for her notepad, clicking the cap down. “Are you both ready to order?”
Osamu recovers and recites his choice for starter and main, and you do so afterwards without second thought. It’s nice, being at ease. Sitting opposite Osamu feels natural. The glass is cold against your palm, ice cubes clinking softly as you bring it up your lips and drink. You nudged the conversation forward before it could wilt. “You were saying, about your brother?”
“Atsumu. He’s my twin brother,” Osamu begins with a small smile, poorly hidden behind the rim of his glass. He sets it down, watching the amber liquid ripple. “Played volleyball since we were kids, but he always loved it a little more than I did. So while I racked up every business permit and licence I could get and he dove first into division one”.
“You both sound pretty brave, in your own right”.
“Thanks,” Osamu grinned and you got the impression that you very much said the right thing. “Brave is a new one. We’re used to bein’ called reckless idiots”.
“Tomayto tomahto,” you tease, lifting an arm and crossing your fingers together. After another sip, “Gotta be a little bit of both, right?”
“You’re right about that,” he conceded. Mouth thinning as if to rein in his smile, he reached up to needlessly fix his hair. “How about yerself, what do you do?”
Attraction hung over the table, an incorporeal anticipant thing that swells as the evening unfolds. Darkness enveloped the bamboo grove and activated the small aureate floor lights placed between the culms. You fall into natural conversation over your starter dishes. You share laughter. Tender and succulent; you share food, too, leaning forward to pluck a sample from his plate, offering your own. Not a single grimace.
Every other first date pales in comparison.
Osamu watches you with a hooded gaze warmed by his second pint of beer. There’s a certain satisfaction to him, contentment. The tip of his tongue peeks out to catch an errant drop. He nudges his ankle to your calf again when the server returns to clear away your starter plates, and you don't move away.
“Can I ask why you’re single, and what you’re looking for?”
“Finally, the hard hittin’ questions”.
You laugh, “We’ve got to get over the boring first date spiel at some point tonight”.
Osamu rumbles his assent, rests his chin in his palm, casting an idle glance to the garden as he thinks. “Think my answer’s kinda standard. At first I never had the time ‘cause of the restaurant, didn’t think it’d be fair,” he begins, and his mouth twists into a little self-effacing smirk. “When I thought I was ready I tried some’a those dating apps but nothin’ ever clicked for me”.
“I get it. Gauging chemistry is harder online,” you affirm softly, readjusting your seat as the server steps up to set down your main dishes, inclining her head in greeting but with enough grace not to interrupt. Osamu voices his gratitude, sliding his plate closer. The grilled tai is a beautiful fleshy pink colour, garnished with sprouts and hosta leaves.
“Ma says I’m a romantic,” he continues sheepishly, plucking up his chopsticks. “I’d prefer to meet someone naturally, face to face. To really feel it when ya click with each other”.
“Yeah?” there’s an ache blooming in your cheeks as you glanced down at your food. The plate is still hot to touch. You pinch your chopsticks and inhale the rich scent of saffron, garlic and onion, and beneath it all sharp notes from an open flame. “I think we’re doing pretty good on that front”.
“Better than I hoped,” he murmurs, supple and full of promise. The hair on your arms prickles. When was the last time anyone looked at you like that, you wonder. “Soon as Tanaka caught on that I saw your picture on her phone she was determined to appeal ya to me. Thought it might be too good to be true”.
You hum around your first mouthful, feeling much the same way. Saeko had worked hard to strong arm you into meeting him. The food falls apart gently on your tongue and suddenly your agreeable noise becomes a pleased crescendo, taken by the rich smoky flavours.
After swallowing you grow self-conscious; the weight of Osamu’s focused attention is heavy. Rather than embarrassment, the flush tinting his cheeks seems to be something else entirely. He has a chunk of grilled tai between his chopsticks, halted halfway to his lips. “Is it that good?” he teases, strained.
There’s no true malice or ill intent behind it. It’s lighthearted—you could even delude yourself into thinking he sounded fond. You kick your lips, inhibitions worn a fraction after a glass of liquor. “I’d say that’s obvious,” you smiled. “It tastes amazing. Thank you, for picking this place”.
“S’been my pleasure believe me,” he says, finally taking a bite of his own. Like him, you observe how his expression flickers as the flavour fills his senses. A flare in soft surprise, rippling as he chews and discerns the texture. His eyelids flutter closed, lashes fanning out over the high point of his cheeks, and open in the next breath to catch you staring.
“Is it that good?” you echo coyly. Osamu smirks, a glimmer in his eye. He picks up a small piece of the tai sandwiched with a hosta leaf and cups his hand beneath it while offering you a try.
“See for yaself,” he says. Energy simmers under your skin, all buzzing heat and jitters. You quickly sip your drink, rinsing your palate before shuffling closer to the table's edge and lean forward, lips eagerly parting to take the morsel into your mouth. A hitched breath. Osamu holds your gaze while you parse the hints of dashi broth and ginger.
“God. You weren’t wrong. The texture is perfect…” you stop yourself from rambling further and swipe your bottom lip as you recline in your chair, chopsticks poised like pincers. Pulse quickening behind your ribs you copy his actions, taking a sample of your dish for him to try. “Try mine too?” you offer, abashed.
Osamu struggles to temper his grin. Words aren’t necessary. He props himself onto his elbows and stretches forward, pink mouth wrapping around the end of your chopsticks. Closer now you notice the soft cupid’s bow on his top lip. He draws back with a soft groan as he chews—the sound ripples down your spine.
“Never tasted anything like that. Almost has a tangy bite to it,” he praised.
“Right? It’s amazing how they managed to marry earthy and briny together. I think it’s a Spanish dish, maybe,” you wonder aloud, eyes sweeping over the table. “How have I never been here before?”
“It’s my first time too, a friend recommended it. Heard they’ve only been open a year and some,” he tells you. Eventually the conversation slows as eating takes precedence. The server flits in and out to take your empty glasses, bringing refills. Sitting there, now with an empty plate and your third drink half full, a different spirit entirely sifts inside you.
Osamu admires you over the rim of his beer. “I never got to ask earlier,” he mused. “Are ya looking for a serious relationship or…?”
You scarcely hear him, preoccupied with staring at his other loosely curled hand beside the centrepiece. If he notices he doesn’t mention it. “I am. I’ve been trying. Any more than this I might actually fit the definition of a serial dater,” you admit, in an attempt to reciprocate some of his prior vulnerability. “But all I want is to settle down. Find someone”.
About to take another sip, Osamu's fingers slip slightly on the condensation around his pint. “Yer serious?” he baulks. His accent is thicker, rough. You wince at his tone. “Sorry, sorry. I just have a hard time believin’ nobody snatched you up yet”.
Feeling a little like a damn has broken in your chest, you nod. “Maybe I tried too hard. Somehow showing genuine interest only ever puts them off more,” a brittle bout of laughter breaks the delicate quiet, and you begin tearing at a napkin to distract yourself. “And most of them didn’t really… like my appetite. I embarrassed them sometimes, I think”.
Agitation on your behalf flickers in his expression; brows drawn taut, jaw clenched, it flies over his face and smooths out just as quickly. “That’s bullshit,” he said, sounding far calmer than he had looked. Warmth encompasses your hands and your fingers pause their repetitive motions. Osamu runs his thumb over your knuckles. “‘Scuse my manners. But ya not embarrassing in the slightest. There’s nothin’ more satisfying than watching someone eat well”.
A slow smile pulls at your lips. The napkin is in pieces. You sense his caution in crossing any boundaries, pressure alleviating as though to pull away, so you overturn your wrist and thread your fingers together. “I think so too,” you reply. “Not much better than good food and good company”.
“Guess we’ve covered all the bases,” he murmurs, squeezing until your palms kiss. “Feel like sharing some desserts with me?”
The hunger in your heart rears its head. Mentally you send a good word to Saeko, knowing you owe her more than a drink or two for this. “Can’t say no to that,” you return, voice a little thick. Whatever will prolong the night.
Dessert ends up being a beautiful burnt honey cake. It comes with a creamer of liqueur laced chocolate sauce that strays as you pour it. Osamu watches you clean a wayward thread of melted chocolate from wrist to heel with your tongue, grey eyes overcast with something heady. You feel a pulse of magnetised desire where there’d been none before as wet fingers popped free of your mouth.
It’s delicious, you're sure. You can hardly remember anything beyond the face he makes as he tries it.
The end of the date looms with dreadful finality. Osamu pays the bill in full despite your countless protests. You walk through the front dining area, busier than it had been, and in passing you bow your head toward the chef working behind the bar and the host at the entrance.
“Thank you very much,” he acknowledges politely. “Please come again”.
It’s jarring to step back out from the restaurant’s welcome embrace into the street. “Guess this is it,” you inhale deeply and move to Osamu’s side to sap him of his warmth, wrapping yourself around his arm. He pulls you closer and you yield like putty, partly the need to shield from the crisp, late night air and partly the desire to prolong your time together.
“Did you walk here?” he asks, rubbing your hip. Your hand is splayed over his chest, heat seeping through the fabric, heart tapping against your palm.
“I got dropped off,” you reply. “I’ll have a car pick me up”. Osamu dithers for a moment, visibly searching for the right words. He rubs at his neck—a nervous habit you’ve noticed.
Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t, “Are ya still hungry?”
Your mouth opens and closes. True, there’s no real physical ache of hunger but you would hardly describe yourself as full, or sated. “…I could eat,” you confess. Osamu grins at that, dark hair haloed by the streetlight. “Why?”
“My restaurant isn’t far from here. If yer comfortable with it, the cab can pick you up from there and I’ll make a treat for the ride home,” he says. He must take your brief silence to mean discomfort, because he continues on. “Ya can say no,” he murmurs, thumb stroking back and forth at your waist. “Just didn’t want the night to end yet”.
The offer strikes a chord within you, and you feel like you could burst. You want. Guided by fleeting impulse you press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He startles and then moves as if to chase it. Your breath catches as you come together in a soft, chaste press of lips.
“I’d like that,” you rasp, patting at his chest and unwilling to part. There’s relaxed, padded muscle underneath. “What’s the address?”
After receiving the address you input it into your phone, scheduling the taxi to pick you up in around thirty minutes—at Osamu’s suggestion. As promised the restaurant is no more than a five minute walk, tucked away alongside a few other establishments. You notice the Onigiri Miya sign fixed above the door displaying his logo, but the shutters are down.
“Gotta head in through the side,” he explains quietly. You nod, clasping both hands around his forearm and letting him lead. The clink of his keys fills the silence, followed by a series of clicks. The door opens and he flicks the switch on. You squint at the intrusive light that floods the space, blinking to adjust, and make a low inquisitive noise as you meander through.
The interior errs on traditional, and it works well. Hanging along the accent wall is a banner of the shop name written in calligraphy, and other various artworks are littered throughout showcasing appreciation for the local agriculture.
Osamu disappears into the back amidst your exploring. You duck beneath the curtain draped across the doorway to find him. The kitchen is small, an obvious compromise to make room for more dining space. Food preparation is dedicated to the heart of the kitchen on an island-like setup, while dishwashing and such are pushed to the perimeter. Osamu embodies it comfortably and confidently.
Hands wrung against your stomach, you lean to get a closer look at what he’s doing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Osamu stops, still poised to reach for the water bowl next to his workstation. There are multiple others set out, each seemingly with a different ingredient. His mouth pulls into a boyish grin. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, inclining his head to the stool opposite. “Just sit there looking pretty and I’ll feed ya something good”.
You bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if it’s possible for butterflies to hatch in your chest. A fuzzy giddiness that spreads to the tips of your fingers, and you want to kiss him again. “Promise?”
“Promise”.
Lowering onto the stool, you watch raptly as he wets his fingers and takes a pinch of salt to rub into his hands. Skin glistens under the pale florescence. Osamu's visage wanes, and you're struck by how at home he looks.
“So,” you speak, if only to fill the silence—and to hear his voice again. “What made you fall in love with food?”
Osamu scoops the cooked rice from a nearby bowl into his palm and starts to shape it. He doesn’t pause in his motions, even with the contemplative tilt of his head. “Lots’a reasons, really,” he says. “Earliest one I can remember is when I made breakfast for my gran for the first time. Ma helped out, ‘cause I was only five or six, but I was real proud of myself”.
“That’s cute,” you murmur, a nascent fondness stirring inside your body at the imagined young Osamu that flashes through your mind. “Did it turn out any good?”
Deft fingers knead a shallow dip into the centre of the rice ball. “Course it didn’t, I used way too much salt. But she still ate it, and it made her feel better”.
“Because she loves you”.
Osamu meets your eyes. Outside, droplets stutter out a drowsy staccato against the windows, cohesive with the beat of your heart. The moment feels pheromonic, like when you know something is just right the second you find it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. His mouth curls up and he tucks some of the nearby ingredients into the rice. “See, yer getting it”.
That's what it is. Osamu likes to take care of people. Your focus falls to deft fingers, gently folding the rice over, as though tucking it in. He gives it a triangular shape, adorned with a slice of nori, and sets it into a small cardboard tray. Without preamble, he reaches to start another.
"Y'know, first time I ever confessed to someone it was with onigiri," Osamu tells you, unheeding of the wellspring he opened in your chest. "Made 'em that same morning, had a speech and everything. Never told anyone I was gonna do it".
You hum and scoot closer, folding your arms atop the island. It's cold ot the touch. Osamu appears to blossom further under your avid attention. He repeats the steps, pressing new filling carefully into the heart of the rice and admits, "Got rejected, though".
Your face falls. "I'm sorry, Osamu".
"It's fine. In the end I gave one of 'em to 'Tsumu, and I ate the other," he shrugs, looking rather happy for someone talking about their botched first confession. "Know what he told me?"
"What?"
"Looks me dead in the eyes and goes 'What the hell, 'Samu. Are ya holdin' out on me? These taste better than usual'," Osamu pitches his voice as he recites the memory, presumably mocking his brother. You laugh, and he ducks his chin to hide his grin. "I remember missin' three serves that day. He told me since I suck so bad at volleyball I should be a chef instead. Idiot doesn't even remember he said it, but..."
While he had meant his words to be light you heard the significance beneath it. You rise from your seat. Osamu tucks the third and final onigiri into the tray and lets his focus stray toward you. Featherlight strokes up his forearm, you rest your cheek against his shoulder. You peer through your lashes and look at Osamu's face, at a tentative beginning.
"And now you're here," you say, reaching to cup his warm cheek. He leans into it, lids fluttering as your thumb traces an arc beneath his eye. His ears are warm against the tips of your fingers. "You did it".
"Yeah," Osamu releases a shaky breath. "Is it—can I kiss ya again?"
Your answer comes with the tilt of your head. Osamu kisses you, solemnly sweet. You can faintly taste the beer he drank. He's warm, firm under your hands. You feel him smile against your mouth and smile back, nipping at his plush lower lip. The intensity grows as a strong arm coils around your waist, his wet, rice soiled hand held away from your clothes. Your fingers slip into his hair as his tongue dips into the seam, slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, drinking the whine right from your mouth.
"Osamu," you sigh, pushing harder, needing to be closer, and yet he is pulling further away. "Noo, come back".
"Greedy thing" he rasps. His voice is infused with warm laughter. You hum as he kisses you again, similar to the first. It's quick and chaste, and with too much finality for your taste. "I know. But I'm pretty sure that's yer ride waiting outside".
You sniff haughtily, following his line of sight to the car headlights filtering in through the windows. "Wait. Let me walk ya out," he mumbles, turning away to find a towel to wipe his hands on. Meanwhile you gingerly pick up the takeout tray of onigiri and cradle it to your front, as though something precious.
"Ready?"
The night is colder than you remember, and you'd only been out of it for a short time. Sparse raindrops pitter patter on the pavements, leaving dark little dots on the concrete. Osamu walks ahead to check with the driver and then waves you over, opening the door himself.
"What a charmer," you tease, turning into him once more and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Osamu. I had a really great night".
"Good enough to see me again?"
The crinkles by his eyes are knowing, aware that he needn't ask at all. And the thought that you could be another person for Osamu to take care of—it satiates the ache.
"Maybe I can cook for you next time," you say as you climb into the backseat. Osamu bends, peering into the car.
"Promise?"
Loneliness is just another form of hunger. You realise that now.
"I promise".
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A Song of heart and blood - part one | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader
Summary: After an horrible prophetical dream, you find yourself traveling through time to try and save your sister, Daenerys, from her fatal ascension to the Iron Throne. During your mission, your heart derives you from your duty and you fall in love with your ancestor
Word count: 2.3k
masterpost
A/N: The time-traveling part was heavily inspired by Outlander
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While most of Valerian descent are born dragonriders, very few have been dreamers.
The first known dreamer had been Daenys Targaryen, known as 'the Dreamer'. She had foreseen the Doom of Valyria in a dream twelve years before it happened, causing her father to relocate the family and its dragons to Dragonstone, thus securing House Targaryen's future as the last known dragonlord family in the world and the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.
Then, Aegon I Targaryen, Viserys I Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Daemon II Blackfyre...and you.
The castle in King's Landing was completely destroyed, except for the Iron Throne. Your sister, Daenerys, was walking toward it, the new queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She touched the throne, a faint smile curling on her lips. Behind her, a man with dark hair had entered the room. They began talking – arguing – about some matter you couldn't hear. A kiss was shared and, as the two kissed, the man stabbed her in her heart with his dagger.
Had you told Dany about your dream, she would've laughed and said it was just that: a dream. Deep down, you could feel that it was something more. A dragon dream, as they call it in the books. A prophecy.
You had to do something to prevent your sister's tragic end. Talking her down to go after the Iron Throne was a losing battle. Dany was strong-headed; she would never accept to give up what was rightfully hers, even if you told her about your dream.
She didn't believe in that sort of thing, anyway.
The days following your dream, you found yourself in your head a lot. You couldn't look at your sister without seeing the blood leaking from her mouth and nose after that man had assassinated her. It had become difficult to close an eye at night, knowing what would happen to her in the end.
You had to do something.
A few days later, you packed your bag and went on your own to know more about prophecies. Leaving her with the Dothrakis worried you, but Ser Jorah had sworn protection to her. He'll keep her safe while you'll be gone.
*
After seven moons doing some heavy research away in the Free Cities, you found a woman of old age who knew about Dreamers and prophecies. She told you the only way to keep a foretelling event from happening was to fix the mistakes that led to it – albeit it being close to impossible. Prophecies always find a way to come to pass.
''Time traveling?'' you repeated with a doubtful furrow of your eyebrows.
The woman nodded. ''There is this old tale about a High Priestess who practiced different sorts of sorcery using the power of R'hllor. According to the tale, she has revived a man who had been stabbed enough times to empty himself of his blood, and knew details only someone who had lived in the past could know of. She is rumored to have lived hundreds of years, all thanks to her magic.''
''How may I find her?''
''Unfortunately, the High Priestess has been burned to the stake many decades ago, but her grimoire has not been found. She lived in a crept in Volantis, where I assume her grimoire still is. You might find what you need in it.''
''Would it save my sister? Going back in time.''
''Possibly.'' The woman
''You got to find the exact moment, the trigger time-stamp that started the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty.''
Was she talking about your father's descent into insanity? Had he not been held prisoner for half a year by a rebellious lord, perhaps he would not have let his paranoia cloud his judgment or let his cruelty grow. Perhaps Ser Jamie Lannister, a member of his own Kingsguard, would not have killed him.
Unless the prophecy went back longer ago? When did House Targaryen begin losing its power?
According to Maester Yandel, the biggest losses of House Targaryen happened during the Dance of Dragons, a major civil war in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. It destroyed many cadet and lesser branches of the Targaryen family - thinning the Targaryen bloodline –, and also eliminated almost all of the surviving dragons at the time – seventeen dragons died during the Dance.
Had the Dance not happened, had Aegon II not been born, it would've made a massive difference in the future of House
''Before you go searching for the grimoire, I shall warn you my lady: any minor change can have a ripple effect that could harm innocent bystanders.''
*
The crypt had taken you weeks to locate.
Each page of the grimoire was made of human skin and written with blood. It was quite gnarly to touch - or smell. The spelling was difficult to decipher. No offense to the High Priestess, but her handwriting was not the greatest. Some of the pages were in High Valyrian – which must've been the High Priestess's first language. Fortunately, you had been taught the language growing up.
Inside, you came across resurrecting spells and fertilization rituals, a handful of curses and poisonous brews, and a time-traveling ritual. They were all using blood magic, which was one of the most dangerous magic, but after seeing your sister ascending her rightful title as queen, to then be killed by her lover – which was somehow not Khal Drogo –, you were willing to risk the danger and consequences of blood magic.
The ritual sounded complex, but was relatively simple. You'll need a gemstone, fire and blood – and a solstice in a specific location. Fortunately for you, the summer solstice was only a moon away. You also needed an object that belonged to the time you wanted to go back to. The dragonglass dagger in your bag will be perfect. It had been given to the princess Rhaenyra by Viserys himself while he was king.
On the week of the Solstice, you began your journey to the ancient stone circle located on a mountain in Volantis. According to the grimoire, one of the stones was large and cleft, through which a time traveler may pass.
Come the Solstice, you waited until the moon was at its highest and started a small fire in the middle of the stone circle while reading a few High Valerian lines. You then added a few drops of your blood to the fire and threw the dragonglass dagger – the fire crackled and the flame grew in height, almost touching your forehead.
You immediately stepped back, startled. This was your first time dabbling in magic. You didn't know fire could be so powerful.
Lastly, you walked up to the large cleft stone, pressed your palm against the cleft.
*
Approximately 170 years before your birth
Since your arrival in King’s Landing, you have tried to be discreet and keep to yourself as much as possible.
As the woman of old age warned you, time-traveling was delicate. Each change – even the smallest – will have a direct effect on the future. A sliver of change done wrong, and the whole future could take a turn for the worse, the Targaryen lineage could be extinct sooner. You and your sister could…not exist.
All you needed to do was prevent Aegon II from being born. That alone should have a huge impact on the Targaryen dynasty – on the future.
You had no idea how you would execute your plan. From what you knew, the queen was expecting and the babe would be born in a couple of weeks from now. That didn't leave you a lot of time. The main issue was, Queen Alicent lived in the Red Keep and there was no way you could sneak in unnoticed. There were guards all around the castle. One was probably posted at the door of her chamber for extra safety.
Every time you took a stroll in the city, you were pestered by sellers. Seafood when in Fishmonger's Square, brewers in Dragon Square, baked goods on the Street of Flour. Everything looked delicious, but the coins in your pocket couldn't be spent on treats.
A brewer was being insistent tonight, trying to get you to try his liquor. You shook your head, politely declining. The bearded man was not taking no for an answer, claiming you must have coins on you because of the jewel around your neck.
The small quarrel grew in volume, catching some citizens' attention, notably a man in a hooded cloak. You wanted to run, but when you took a quick look around to evaluate your options, you caught the man with the hooded cloak's eyes. His eyes were purple and, under his large hood, you saw a glimpse of his silver hair. He was a Targaryen.
When you teleported through the stones, you vowed to yourself to minimize your social interactions and to not directly interact with any of your ancestors to not disrupt the future in times where it wasn't necessary.
You recognized him as Daemon, also known as the Rogue Prince. His dark gray hooded cloak was doing a mediocre job at shielding his identity – at least from the front. Or, perhaps you were just too good at recognizing those who shared your blood.
‘’The woman seems not to be interested.’’
Daemon’s voice cut the brewer's word spitting, making the bearded man raise his head in his direction. Although there was no threat in the prince's words, his tone itself held an authority. It felt commanding.
Had he been a regular man of the city, you would've thanked him. Instead, you ran off.
You didn’t want to be impolite, or come off as not thankful – you were thankful for him stepping in. Without him, the brewer would probably still be pressuring you to buy his liquor. You needed to remain unnoticed during your travels. Thanking Daemon would’ve broken your rule.
You took a left on the Street of Silk and felt eyes on your back. Had the bearded man followed you? No. It was unlikely. After Daemon’s interruption, he had to have given up. Someone was following you, though.
You snaked through the bodies and ran as fast as your legs allowed you.
A few buildings down, the street was splitting. You took another left and hid inside the closest building, which turned out to be a pleasure house – a brothel – , of all places. Just like the streets, it was packed.
You had never been to one of these places before. There wasn’t any around where you grew up. It was…was…uncomfortable. There were naked people – men and women – all around; some were dancing sexually, some were moaning and performing sexual acts of all genres.
‘’Silver hair are difficult to hide, are they?’’
You whirled around and came face to face with the Rogue Prince himself. His hood was still on, but his eyes bore right into yours. Just like yours, they were a shade of purple. His were a lighter color, but no less piercing.
He reached out to twirl a piece of your hair between his fingers, a frown settling between his eyebrows. Your alluring beauty, long and braided silver hair and the Valyrian steel necklace around your neck – a piece of jewelry that once belonged to your mother – were a straight-teller of your Targaryen roots.
‘’Where did you get this?’’ His eyes fixated the jewelry, as if he had seen it before.
‘’My mother.’’
''Valyrian steel, right?’’ You nodded. ‘’I brought the same one to my niece two years ago. I was told there was only one.’’
‘’Perhaps the person you bought it from was mistaken – or they lied to you.’’
Daemon looked at you with wary eyes. ‘’Who are you?’’
The dreaded question. You gulped, nervousness bubbling in your stomach as you tried to think of a quick fake-name. Using Targaryen in this era would stir too many questions.
‘’Y/N. Y/N…Stormborn, my Prince.’’
The last words felt strange on your tongue. It was the proper way to address him, though.
‘’Stormborn?’’ Daemon’s frown deepened, the name unfamiliar. In fact, it was the first time he heard it. ‘’I’ve never heard. Although, you must be of Valyrian blood. Only those with Valyrian blood have silver hair.’’
You shrugged, playing your part. ‘’I would not know. My father lost his life in battle and my mother died during childbirth. I was raised by my brother in Essos.’’
That part wasn’t all false. You only omitted small details…like your father being the Mad King and escaping to Essos after your birth so you, Daenerys and Viserys – your brother –’s lives would be spared.
The man before you hummed. He didn’t know if you were bullshitting him or telling the truth, but he’ll take your words for now.
‘’Have you ever been in Essos, my Prince?‘’ you asked.
The prince didn't get to answer you. Behind you, one of the curtains lining the hallway opened and a drunk man got thrown out of the private room, his erected cock out in the open. A naked woman – assumingly a working whore from the brothel – followed and threw his pants and tunic at him.
‘’No money, no fucking,’’ she spat at him, then walked off.
He bent down to pick up his clothes and tipped forward, visibly too drunk to have any sense of balance, and limply falling against you. His heavy, dead weight caused you to fall forward, your hand reaching for something to grab onto but only finding air.
In good reflex, Daemon firmly gripped your arm, catching you before your face would meet the filthy floor and pulled you against him in a knightly gesture. You ended up with your face in the prince’s chest, the mix of sandalwood, pine and a tinge of red wine seeping through your nose and invading your senses. Gods, he smelled nice.
Had he not been your great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, perhaps you would have taken advantage of the close proximity and stayed there a little longer.
A light flush creeped to your cheeks and you pulled away. ‘’My apologies.‘’
-
Taglist: @taylorDaughter @gillybear17 @liltimmyst @eos-princess
House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones taglist: @anastasiaxsworld @lollypopcrazylover @fin-never @dkathl @ayamenimthiriel @nerdy4itall @rraindrops @glors3 @beelanie @hc-geralt-23 @sweetybuzz25 @uniquenightsheep @kaywsworld @i-yam-awesome @caspianobsessed @kelssssxd @dilfsarebetterthanyou
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen x y/n#house of the dragon#house of the dragon imagine
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Catching Up 💍 (Ominis x F!MC Arranged Marriage)
This was a fic request by my darling friend @myrachondria ! Hope you enjoy it baby girl! ❤️
Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+ || Characters are over 18 || loss of v || oral || p in v || fingering || a very brief description of a noncon kiss that quickly becomes consensual! ||
Catching Up - Ominis Gaunt x F!MC Arranged Marriage || 3k words
Ominis Gaunt was never grateful to be born blind, but he did take advantage of his disability in this moment, as his cold, shaky hands took hold of his bride’s hands. He was glad he didn’t have to look her in the eyes as he listened to the officiant speak about how beautiful marriage was. The irony of this moment wasn’t lost on Ominis, as there was a time where he actually dreamt of this moment; but Ominis hadn’t had this dream in years.
Ominis’s bride; however, was born with sight, and thus tried her best to look at anything other than the man standing in front of her. She cursed the gods for playing this cruel joke on her - making her dreams come true, three years after she had given up on them altogether.
What once was a beautiful friendship that danced on the cusp of romance, was now a faded memory shared between two enemies.
They had been best friends since childhood, their wealthy families being very close. Although they were in different friend groups while at school, they still found time for each other. Eventually, they both found themselves fancying one another, these feelings reaching their peak in fifth year.
Fifth year was going to be different, she had told herself. Fifth year was going to be the year she confessed her feelings for Ominis. Unbeknownst to her, Ominis was also hyping himself up to confess his own feelings, his friend Sebastian encouraging it.
But those confessions never came. They were doomed the moment the new fifth year showed up. The dissolvement of the friendship started with Ominis beginning to overreact and lash out at the slightest inconvenience. When she pressed Ominis about this, he always claimed to be on edge because of Sebastian, but never went into details as to why Sebastian had upset him. This was out of the ordinary for Ominis, since he had always been one to tell his best friend everything. This unusual behavior eventually morphed into Ominis ignoring his best friend all together, as well as her constantly stumbling into the boys in the middle of a screaming match in the Undercroft.
Despite the growing distance between them, she was still hopeful a confession of her feelings would turn their situation around. It was the evening of Valentine’s Day, and she was on her way to the Undercroft. She was hoping to surprise the boy, a heart-shaped box full of his favorite sweets in her hand. Her hope was immediately destroyed when she found Ominis and the new fifth year standing in front of the door to The Undercroft, warped in an embrace.
“What is the meaning of this?” She shouted, which caused Ominis and the new student to pull away from each other. She could see that Ominis’s eyes seemed wet, but paid no mind to this.
“No wonder you’ve been so distant, Ominis, you’ve been too busy cozying up to the new girl!” She wanted to say more, but she stopped herself as she felt tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She threw the box of sweets on the floor as she left, ignoring the cries of “Wait, I can explain”, “We’re just friends” and “I love you”.
Ominis spent the remainder of the school year trying to make amends, but to no avail. The summer break brought with it various letters from Ominis, none of which the girl responded to, and only one of which she opened. In a sloppy script written by an enchanted quill, the first words on the parchment were “I’m sorry”. She refused to read any further, because there was nothing Ominis could say. The damage was done.
With sixth year came more aggressive attempts at contact, with Ominis frequently leaving her gifts in front of her room - bouquets of red roses, sweets, jewelry - all of which she’d refuse.
Their seventh and final year brought complete silence. Ominis had finally accepted that he lost the girl he loved. Graduation came and went, and they both worked to forget the love they once had for each other.
Their commitment to forgetting was interrupted one day, shortly after the girl’s 18th birthday, when she was dragged to the Gaunt home by her parents, where they and Ominis’s parents informed the former friends that they were to be married. No amount of protest changed their parents’s minds. And now here they were, being forced to spend the rest of their lives together in a loveless marriage.
The bride was ripped out of her thoughts when the officiant spoke directly to her, asking her the question she dreaded answering.
“I do.” she said through gritted teeth as her eyes bore into Ominis. She knew he couldn’t see her, but she hoped he could feel the anger in her stare.
“I do.” Ominis muttered when asked the same question. He swore he could feel her eyes digging into him as he said it.
With the declaration that they were now wed, Ominis hesitantly cupped his new wife’s face in his hands, bringing their lips together in a kiss, an expectation they were required to fulfill. Her mind short-circuited as Ominis kissed her. She used to spend so much time dreaming of their first kiss, and despite how much she hated him, this moment was better than she ever dreamed. Ominis too found himself lost in the way their lips moved against each other. As she felt Ominis begin to pull away, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him back in. They savored each other’s lips for another few seconds before they both pulled away, fearful that this would unearth feelings they worked so hard to bury.
–
As Ominis sat down to dinner, his new wife right beside him, he couldn’t help the audible sigh he let out, though he hoped their guests were too intoxicated to notice. He hadn’t had a moment to process his feelings since their nuptials. Neither of them had, as the couple was immediately forced to pretend they were happy and in love in front of their families.
But despite the truth of their predicament, Ominis couldn’t help but linger on their kiss. While everything about this day was completely fake, the kiss felt real. Ominis felt conflicted, wanting it to have been real desperately, while also not wanting to resurrect those old feelings. Next to him, his wife was grappling with the same conflicting feelings. She longed to feel Ominis’s lips again, preferably on more than just her own lips. Forcing herself to remember the hurt Ominis put her through, she pushed the thought out of her mind.
–
As Gaunt manor emptied out and the evening came to a close, she was once again met with the same conflicting feelings. She knew that after the wedding day came the wedding night, and she knew what was expected of her. Part of her was repulsed by the idea, angry at the expectation that she was supposed to just lay back and let him strip her of her innocence. But the more she thought of the act, the more she desired it. Her mind betrayed her as it produced lewd images of what his body might look like and how he’d feel inside of her.
“My dear. It’s nearly and we’ve had a long day. We should get to bed.” came the soft voice of her husband from beside her as he held his hand out to her, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She began to walk ahead of Ominis, refusing his hand and ignoring the inappropriate thoughts that still danced in her mind. They found their bedroom on the other side of the manor, both of their hearts racing as Ominis locked the door behind them.
Several minutes of painful silence passed as Ominis stood awkwardly by the door, eyes directed towards the floor, while his wife stood by the bed. Her eyes took in the sight of the bed - canopied and king-sized with emerald green satin bed sheets and red rose petals haphazardly sprinkled on top. She let out a sigh before she began to undress, removing her shoes, followed by her veil, and then moving towards the buttons of her dress.
“Are you undressing?” Ominis asked, his tone laced with nervousness.
“Well I have to, don’t I!? How else are we supposed to consummate this ridiculous marriage if I don’t!? You should do the same, so we can just get this over with!”
“You don’t have to.” Ominis spoke softly, his heart stinging at the harshness of her words. Despite how distant they had gotten over the years, Ominis had always hoped that maybe, just maybe she still felt something for him. Her words were a cruel reminder that she did not. “We don’t have to do this. I would never force you to do this. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” The words felt like a knife through her chest. The restraint she had maintained all this time had finally been broken.
“You don’t want to hurt me!?” she scoffed. “Oh darling, you already have hurt me! You hurt me the day you replaced me with that new girl! Shame you didn’t marry her instead!”
She watched as Ominis’s expression changed from sadness to anger. He began to yell, something she had heard him do to Sebastian before, but never her.
“I NEVER loved her! It was you who I loved! It was always you! She never loved me either! She loved Sebastian! The reason we spent so much time together was because she was helping me deal with Sebastian. You have no idea what he was like in fifth year! He did terrible things! I was losing my second closest friend and it was unbearable!”
She stared at Ominis, and dumbfounded expression on her face as she absorbed his words. He loved her. He wasn’t in love with that new girl. He was distant and cold because of Sebastian. She had heard rumors in her sixth and seventh year that Sebastian may have had something to do with his uncle’s death, possibly being the one who committed the act. But she never knew for sure. Now everything made sense.
“I…I had no idea…” was all she could muster as her eyes went to the floor. A feeling of guilt rose up her throat like vomit.
“Of course you had no idea! You never let me explain myself!” Ominis shouted.
Her cheeks were wet from the tears that were running down her face. She struggled to form a sentence. “I..I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”
A soft sigh made her pick her eyes up from the floor. Ominis’s face had softened into a solemn expression, and his eyes were starting to water.
“I’m sorry too. I didn’t open up to you the way I should have. I was just scared to involve you in Sebastian’s issues. I didn’t want him to hurt you as well. I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, but in doing so I hurt you anyway. I didn’t mean to push you away, I just didn’t know what else to do.”
Ominis let out a soft gasp as he felt his body be pulled against hers as her arms wrapped around his neck. She was hugging him. The most physical touch they had in years. Ominis couldn’t control the movement of his arms as they wrapped around her waist.. They held each other for several minutes, too engrossed in the feeling of each other to want to let go. All of the feelings they had locked away began to flood back to them.
“I love you.” He whispered against her neck. “I loved you in fifth year. I still loved you when you shut me out, and I love you now. It’s okay if you don’t love me, I don’t deserve it, but now that we’re married, I hope you’ll give me a chance to at least make this marriage bearable for you. I promise I-...”
Ominis was unable to finish his sentence as he felt her lips press against his. He kissed her back, with much more fervor than he had earlier. With his hands still on her waist, his fingers grazed the buttons of her dress, fighting the urge to undo them. The fight was short lived however, when his new wife’s hands moved to his chest as she began undoing his tie, followed by the buttons on his shirt.
Ominis felt like he couldn’t breathe as his hands came back to her waist, now completely bare. He followed her lead as she walked backwards towards the bed, leaning back on to it and pulling him with her so that he was above her. Ominis brought his lips down, landing on her collarbone instead of her neck. He didn’t mind the error, eager to kiss every inch of her body. His lips lingered on her collarbone for a moment before he brought them upwards. He sucked and nipped the skin on her neck, hoping that he was leaving a mark, before bringing his mouth back to her collarbone, and then down her chest to her breasts. His hand cupped one breast as his mouth latched on to the other, his fingers and tongue playing with her nipples simultaneously. Her soft moans serving as an approval of his actions. He switched positions of his mouth and hand, making sure both of her breasts received the love they deserved, before continuing his exploration, his lips moving down her stomach creating a trail of kisses as her hips slowly bucked upwards.
Ominis continued downward, pausing just above her center. He could hear her breathing speed up, the sound making his cock leak with need. He took a deep breath before bringing his mouth down, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking.
The sounds that fell from her lips were heavenly, making Ominis grateful he wasn’t missing his sense of hearing instead. Eager to draw out more heavenly sounds from her, Ominis continued, his lips and tongue sucking and licking her clit as his index finger slipped easily inside of her. After a few pumps of his finger in and out of her, he added a second finger. When her legs came up to rest on his back and her fingers came down into Ominis’s hair, he knew she was close, and he took this as a sign that he should work her harder, which he did willingly, resulting in several more desperate cries from his beautiful wife.
With one final moan of his name, she reached her climax. Ominis took another moment to be grateful he wasn’t missing his sense of taste either as his tongue lapped up every drop she gave him. He moaned against her as he tasted her, and wanted to taste her forever.
When he had finished, Ominis’s lips moved back up her body, leaving a path of wet kisses until he reached her mouth. He kissed her passionately as his painfully hard cock bumped against her. She sat up slightly, reaching a hand between their bodies to gently squeeze his cock and rub his tip against her entrance, a desperate moan falling from her lips as she did so. His hand replaced hers as he pushed his tip against her wet entrance. He waited for her confirmation before proceeding, which came in the form of a simple sentence.
“I love you, Ominis.”
He slid inside of her, slowly, but deeply, not stopping until his hips were flush with hers. Ominis took a moment to let both her and himself adjust to the new feeling, asking if she was okay before he continued. When she gave him a breathless yes, he slowly pulled himself almost entirely out of her before he pushed back in, just as deeply as the first time, but with a bit more force.
“Does it hurt? Please tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.” He whispered.
“No. It doesn’t hurt. I promise. Please keep going.” she moaned.
Ominis, eager to please his new wife, did exactly what she asked. What started off as slow movements quickly became hard and fast thrusts into her, a symphony of moans from both of their lips bouncing off the bedroom walls. Her second climax came quickly with another whimper of Ominis’s name. Feeling her release around his cock rapidly pushed Ominis towards the edge, with him falling off completely a few moments later. Ominis let out a desperate cry of her name as he fell off the edge, stopping his movements and spilling his release into her.
As his cock throbbed within her, he reflected on how grateful he was to be married to the beautiful woman beneath him. The girl he loved, that he was convinced he had lost, was now his, body and soul. This marriage wasn’t going to be an unhappy one, as he had feared. It wasn’t going to be a marriage forced into existence by his family. Although this marriage had been arranged by their parents, this was going to be a marriage that would be full of love and respect. Ominis made a vow to himself to never hurt her again, and to love her until his last breath.
Once Ominis had come down from his high, he gently pulled himself out of her, collapsing on the bed next to her. After several minutes of laying next to each other in pure bliss, the newlyweds cuddled under a blanket, their limbs intertwined. Ominis’s wife ran her hand down her husband’s cheek before speaking.
“I can’t believe we’ve been given a second chance, but I’m so grateful for it, and I won’t waste any second of our time together. I promise to love you with every piece of me, for the rest of my life. I love you, my darling husband.” The word “husband” felt different on her tongue. Earlier she dreaded the word, but now, she couldn’t wait to use it every chance she got.
Ominis smiled as his hand held her hand, still stroking his cheek. “I love you too, my darling wife. Now, we should get some sleep. After all, we need to be up early tomorrow.”
“We do? What for?”
Ominis chuckled. “We missed out on quite a bit of time together my dear, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
She planted one last kiss on his lips before she rested her head on his chest, the lovers quickly falling asleep.
—
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DCxDP: Professional Protector of Love
Danny Fenton moves to Gotham to start a second branch of Fenton Works. At least on paper, in reality, he is there to try and fulfill his obsession now that Amity Park has become too peaceful once he was officially crowned king.
His parents had been overjoyed he wanted to help the family business grow. They had been super supportive the day Danny revealed he was a halfa to them.
His dad even sat him down to apologize for all the hateful things he said about Danny through the years. His mom had been a little less vocal emotionally but she had also given him a deeply severe apology.
When they learned that Danny had been the one to save the town over and over again from invading ghosts, Jack jumped for joy that his son was a ghost hunter and a darn good one at that. They joined Team Phantom, keeping the world safe, and helped Danny hide his hero activities.
It really felt like Danny was part of the family business. It was a blast, even though they remained the town quacks for the first time Danny didn't mind. His parents knew he was a Halfa and they loved him anyway. That's all he needed.
When Clockwork came knocking when he was sixteen to explain that ghosts had chosen to follow the rules of conquest thus Danny was next in line for the throne, to be crowned at twenty, the Fenton's celebrated like Danny had been selected to the best Ivy schools. It meant a lot since realistically Danny didn't think he was getting anywhere with his grades.
His grades were terrible but Jazz helped him get his high school diploma by the skin of his teeth, and he was content with it. Once he graduated high school Danny felt adrift.
Amity Park hadn't been attacked in years due to him being announced as heir of the throne and no ghost would disrespect him by attacking his haunt. It was poor manners to attack the King. Ghost cared a lot about etiquette. Many of them existed because of etiquette.
The thing is Danny's ghost's existence depends on his obsession with Protection so when the ghost stops giving him something to protect Danny falls into his sub-obsession: love.
Sub-obsessions were like a secondary focus for ghosts. It was something that could grab their attention and even help them keep form but not as strongly as their main. It had its cons and pros like most things in life.
For one it wasn't as straightforward as the main obsessions. Protecting someone weaker in any situation was easier to physically do than trying to explain love and get it to appear in life. There are multiple versions of love, which makes things a little better, but Danny still has to depend on others for that to fuel him.
Danny likes to think of main and secondary obsessions in terms of running and jogging. Both got you to where you needed to go. One was just faster, and much more draining to do in the long run. The other took patience and tenacity but was rewarding over time.
The other notable characteristic of sub-obsessions was that they only appeared to ghosts who had an elemental core. Most had their common core- a core portraying to how a ghost came to be, either by death or being born in the Zone.
Danny was a rare few that had an ice core form around his common core. Most elemental ghosts were considered nobility in the zone and their rare appearance granted them special privileges.
One such privilege was attending high-class galas in the zone where he dined with the most important of beings. This was before he even knew he was going to be Ghost King.
It was at one of these Galas that he met Cupid- yes that Cupid- the ghost of love happily explained his Sub-Obession after his own core recognized a kinder spirit. Cupid said that if Danny could not be part of the love he could help others find the different ways love worked and that would help hold him over.
It was a challenge but Danny figured he could use the Greek words of love to help him satisfy his obsession.
He found that if he let his core guide him, the answer to any form of love issue would appear to him. Like his ghost breath activating, it was his sight of people who glow in different colors, telling him what type of love they were currently feeling.
Eros: romantic, passionate love colored red.
Philia: intimate, authentic friendship colored yellow
Storge: unconditional, familial love colored green
Philautia: compassionate self-love colored blue
Agápe: empathetic, universal love colored white.
Danny wanted to keep his secret identity as Phantom under wraps openly told being he could see "auras" that explain what to do.
Some called him crazy like his parents, but that changed the day after Danny spotted the soft red mixed with a chipper yellow glow around Dash and Kwan. He had pulled both individually to the side to talk about it- Kwan had been less hostile than Dash on his meddling- and only after successfully making them confess and start dating did people notice.
He became known around Casper High as the go-to person whenever they needed advice in any relationship. He even helped Sam finally connect with her parents.
Danny had a gift for it- and whenever he made them feel more love of any kind the more powerful did he feel. It was the same rush as rescuing someone but darn if it didn't have a kick to it. And everyone in Amity Park starts tripping over themselves to talk to him and hear his opinion on the issue.
Sam jokingly told him to start charging people. Tucker took the joke as gospel and created him an email and an online store. He had linked Danny's store to Fenton Works- since the business license was so open-ended- and Danny Fenton, Professional Protector of Love worked under Fenton Works before they finished their junior year.
Danny adored working as a protector of love, but his main obsession needed fulfillment so Jazz suggested a move. Take his love work to the most dangerous city in the county. Protect people by night as Phantom and by day give the downdraught citizens some help in bettering their relationships.
His parents helped him pick out a store with an apartment on the top floor, Tucker as both tech support and a clerk for his small store section of Love Charms, while Sam joined up as a receptionist.
His two best friends were going to be his roommates while they studied at Gothum U for their degrees. He would pay them but until he had a solid client base it wouldn't be a lot.
Both seemed fine with the arrangement since Danny was letting them live rent-free with their own rooms.
Jazz and his parents remained in Amity Park but they swore to visit whenever they could.
It took seven months of work but the store was ready- he styled it to look like ancient Greek Cupid-inspired decore. He also had to get all the legal work out of the way and get familiar with the city before he tried to depute as Phantom.
He figured that for now he could stick to protecting humans from ghosts, vengeful spirits, and the busload of curses that cluttered Gotham. Danny would leave human crime to the Bats while he settled. He would step in if he happened upon a situation but he wouldn't go out of his way to find it.
"Danny, do you need anything for the aura reading?" Sam asks typing away at her desk computer. She took her job seriously. Tucker was typing away on his personal laptop, likely working on some homework. "The first customer is already in the consultation room."
Danny adjusted his pure white suit with small colored lines. He had it specially made to have all the colors he saw in love as his uniform. He wanted to give off the Prince vibe of his ghost status.
"I'm good!" He calls back to her, walking down the soundproof room- to give his clients the privacy they deserve- and giving his best professional smile at the boy sitting on the plush couches inside. He designed the room to look like a Greek palace and he hopes the others appreciate.
"Hello, Mr. Wayne. I hear you need professional help with protecting the various types loves in your life?"
"Tsk." Damian Wayne, in all his twelve-year-old glory, raises his chin. "I am capable of protecting them just fine. I merely... need further information on how to show my fondness is all."
Damian glowed green- which meant he needed help connecting to his family or at the very least learning how to talk to them. Danny's smile widens. "You came to the right place for that. Let's start the ready yeah?"
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Professional Protector of Love#happy valentine's day#Danny is a love guru#In a way#Took some liberties with Ghost cores#Damian found out about someone who can explain love and went Sign me up#None of the bats know Danny is here#Danny out here to fix relationships and and kick ass#Tucker and Sam just want to live rent free
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more clone^2 thoughts
you know who i just remembered ALSO has long hair? Vlad. Vlad Masters. Danny's worst enemy and biggest pain in the ass ever since he sent those vulture ghosts after his fucking dAD. Danny having long hair would make Vlad so inSUFFERABLE. Like look!! Proof that you are much better off as MY son. We have matching hair lengths! Come be my son! I will make you a halfa like me and we will become powerful allies together!
Danny almost chops it off out of spite. He ends up not doing it because he likes his hair long, actually, very much so and he's not growing it out again just because you're crazy! He's attempted to take a pair of scissors to Vlad's hair though -- THAT was a fight that got ugly. Danny's go-to threat whenever he sees him after that is that he's going to chop off vlad's hair when he's not looking - just you watch, Masters. He'll do it. HE'LL DO IT.
And if Danny wasn't keeping it a tight secret, he'd turn around and taunt Vlad about being a) a clone and b) a clone of BRUCE WAYNE. he'd say stuff like:
"How's it feel knowing my parents cloned a man richer than you"
"you're just mad that bruce wayne is more my dad than you'll ever be!"
"it could've been you that my parents accidentally cloned instead of Wayne, but instead you fucked off for twenty years instead!"
but also its a constant question Danny asks himself how he and no one else ever figured it out sooner that he was a clone. He doesn't understand how Vlad of all people didn't realize it when he went to college with the man with his parents and was also stinking rich, before remembering that he doubts Vlad remembers anyone who wasn't his parents in college, and has been a rich, recluse loser this entire time.
its a good thing though, danny's pretty sure vlad would attempt a hit on the man if he found out out of pure jealousy and indignant rage. And then he'd get his ass beat by Batman and his army of children.
All in all, Dany is a pure menace towards Vlad whenever he gets the chance, as is normal, and then Vlad's suffering gets doubled after he makes Ellie - of which she is even worse than Danny because she's the halfa that Danny Is NOt and thus has the powers to break into his house easy peasy and wreck shit. She steals his obsidian black card and goes on a shopping spree. This is a regular occurrence.
(and for anyone who isn't aware - Ellie is the same age as Danny in clone^2 bc i thought it'd be fun)
And then it gets tripled once Damian joins the family and gets caught up to speed on all of Vlad's tomfoolery and whoops, Damian's got better stealth skills than Danny and looks like Ellie has a partner in crime whenever they need to sneak into vlad's house to cause him grief.
Vlad's walls are the first canvas for Damian to test out his new spray paints on once he gets them :)
next up
Wes weston! i love this guy, he's so funny and he definitely knows danny is the Phantom in the clone^2 au. it's not as easy to figure out as it is in canon since its not just a simple colorswap, but perhaps he sees Danny taking off his mask after a daytime fight. and after that he becomes determined to reveal that quiet, strange fenton is the vigilante phantom.
he's putting some real,,, detectiveness? stalkerish? skills to use because catching photos of phantom is not as easy as it is if he were a halfa. He can't just snap a few dozen photos of fenton and phantom and then color compare the two of them either - Phantom wears a mask, and works primarily at night or in evenings, and typically avoids the living during the day. And he doesn't speak to the living either. Wes has to put in some extra work into his investigations and evidence.
He also makes the dumb mistake of cornering Danny in the bathroom one day early on and telling him he knows he's the Phantom -- now that Danny knows that Wes knows, he's going to be even more careful not to get caught. He puts in a little extra work in both Fenton and Phantom - another layer, perhaps a jacket, as Phantom, and baggier pants and boots he never wears as Fenton. His hood stays up in the daytime.
He was already putting in some extra effort to appear creepy and unsettling as Phantom - things like crouching low, tense movements, fluid movements. If he's perched on something he does a kinda-crawl like movement - think a mix between a bear and a gorilla crawl. It's weird, creepy. And he stares. Danny's mastered the art of not needing to blink for long periods of time, so if he sees you and sticks around he stares. It doesn't help that you can't see his eyes that well through his mask - its just two piercing green.
It helps endear him to ghosts and his enemies though - the annoying little human boy is engaging in ghost culture! That's eliciting some form of begrudging respect from his enemies.
And then compare that creepy, almost cryptid-like behavior to Fenton who, while considered a freak, really isn't anything more than just some dorky weirdo with occasional heart problems. He's kinda unsettling - he has those 'stares into soul' eyes - but its leveled by the fact that he's kinda just... dorky. It reads as normal, awkward kid behavior, and then gets disregarded completely as he gets older and it bleeds into 'very chill teenager'. Fenton being Phantom doesn't compute that much.
Paulina: you think Phantom is Fenton?
Wes: I don't think, I know he is! I have proof--
Star: Just because they both have black hair doesn't mean they're the same, Wes. That's like saying Paulina and Manson are sisters because they also have black hair.
Wes's attempts to out him as Phantom means that Danny is a little more wary of him than he is in canon, since his vigilante identity isn't an entirely different ghost form its just him, so he has to be careful about where or when he takes off his mask in case Wes is around. Especially during daytime fights.
But other than that he has a lot of time messing with him. Wes is trying to convince his table group at lunch that Fenton = Phantom (again) and Danny just so happens to be within earshot of him and starts making fun of the idea.
"You think I'm Phantom?" and he's got the most disbelieving grin on his face that's only partially convincing. "That's totally bogus, man. The Phantom famously doesn't get along with my parents, why would I be a ghost hunter and not work with them?"
He has this most shit-eating, delighted look in his eyes that Wes knows is pure manic glee at being able to mess with him and get away with it. Wes is going to strangle him.
"Besides, dude, did you forget I have a heart condition? I can't be chasing around ghosts - my heart would give out from all that running and jumping."
Although Danny can get really serious at the flip of a coin if need be - especially with Wes when he gets too pushy about him being Phantom. A notable instance is when Wes cornered him in an empty bathroom to again talk about him being Phantom.
Except Danny, who had been working on a really difficult cold case about the death of a child, and hadn't gotten much sleep in the last 72 hours, plus a plethora of other stuff (like recently acquiring Damian, fighting ghosts, etc), wasn't in the mood to entertain him. It ended with Weston getting pinned to the wall and lowkey threatened by Danny. He apologizes for it afterwards but it's not forgotten.
Additional note: Wes Weston having a crush on Danny Fenton is a hilarious trope to me so Wes absolutely has a crush on Danny and the only one in denial about it is him. Everyone else - except Danny because he's more focused on the fact that Wes knows his identity, and has other things to worry about - knows about it, and everyone chalks up his obsession with Danny as being part of said crush.
Wes' friend: you know usually when you have a crush on someone you normally confess, maybe ask them out, pine from afar....
Wes: i dont--
Wes's friend: not accuse him of being the local ghost-fighting vigilante. Seriously, wes! His parents are ghost hunters!
Wes: i do not have a crush
Wes's friend: and ghosts aren't real! everyone knows that's a lie!
next up
Dan! Or Dante, but i'll call him Dan for the time being. Even if I dislike the name with a passion. Much like Wrath from my Childhood Friends au, Dan here is pretty different from his canon counterpart. Mostly because I wanted to experiment with Dan and different interpretations of him, and I thought; hey, where no better than an au where Danny has no powers?
so, dan? Dan is not a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost halves -- now, don't get me wrong, danny still ends up under vlad's custody care after the death of his family, but he just doesn't fuse with Vlad's ghost.
So, what happened? What happened is that Vlad convinces a grieving Danny that he should let him make him a halfa (despite the fact that he has no idea how) because the he could go find his family in the ghost zone. Danny is in no mental state for any kind of experiments, but his hope and want to see his family and friends again gets him to agree.
It backfires. Vlad doesn't make Danny a halfa, he just ends up killing him completely. Danny comes back instantly as a ghost however, and enraged over being lied to, betrayed, and murdered, ends up killing Vlad in furious cold blood. He doesn't fuse with his ghost half, there's no ghost half to fuse with.
So a grieving ghost, Danny flees into the ghost zone. And, in this iteration, doesn't end up destroying the world. So how does TUE end up happening? Well, ten years later - with Danny remaining a forever 14 year old ghost - Dan ends up finding out about time travel. He finds out a way to travel back into the past, and he does.
So he can take over his past self's life. Danny just thinks he's fighting a weird doppleganger ghost, but ends up getting overshadowed. It's like being in a weird limbo, and Danny's not really sure what's happening - but his friends figure something out. After all, its been ten years since dan saw his friends, something has to give.
And that episode happens. Danny ends up meeting clockworth, beats Dan. But, well, it's not really happily ever after - somewhat. Ehh.. sorta. Danny's been traumatized by Dan's overshadowing - making him realize that despite everything, there are things ghosts can do that danny simply cannot and he needs to prepare for it. Onset paranoia, anyone?
Dan tells them his whole tragic backstory - there's a chance for redemption here, for him. For forgiveness. Not immediately, not yet, but its there. And he doesn't want to go back to the future - he's alone there. He's tired of being alone.
But he ends up being convinced - he needs to learn to look forward, not cling back. He can build himself up again, find new family. He doesn't have to be alone. So Dan goes back to the future.
"But come tell me if Vlad's giving you trouble --" and he smiles something wicked, "I'd be happy to handle him again"
and finally
not so much as any concrete thoughts as it is just me being emotional over Danny and Damian's brotherhood in this au and also Danny's hands. Again.
lIKE.. I put it in the tags of my reblog of my "danny's scarred hands' ficlet but im putting it here and its just?? Danny grabbing the blade of Damian's sword. Him grabbing the sword multiple times despite the fact that he knows it will hurt, that he will hurt himself. That he will keep hurting himself until Damian himself stops.
its just like??? whats it mean to spill your own blood just so that this little boy you've just met won’t have to ever again. he doesn't know any english and he is hurting you and yet you take him home and get him new clothes. he runs away and you go looking for him, every single time. you teach yourself arabic first so that you can converse with him.
this boy is a clone and so are you. you're a clone of his father he's a clone of your son - by nature of your existence this is your child. except its not your child, you don't have one, its just a little boy who happens to share the same dna as you. and you take him home and he becomes your little brother.
what's it mean when its you whose been hurt rather than him? whats it mean when you’d hurt yourself again just so that he can start to heal, so that he knows that he’s worth it? you cut your hands on his blade, catch its swing, just so this boy can know, can learn, that there’s someone who will bleed for him. that there's someone who will scar their hands just to make sure that you wont scar yours.
you’re a bleeding heart and its spilling out onto your palms. you take bloody fingers and wrap it around your little brother’s and say "its okay. it’s okay. you’re safe. no one will hurt you here. i promise. i wont let them. no one will hurt you so long as i'm around."
"put the sword down. i can show you how. let me show you how."
and damian in this au just reminds me of the song "eight" by sleeping at last. like?? the lYRICS. he is sO "eight" coded
'show me how to lay my sword down for long enough to let you through.'
'here i am. pry me open. what do you want to know?'
'im just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut and bury my innocence'
'but here's a map. here's a shovel. here's my achilles' heel. im all in palms out. im at your mercy now and im ready to begin. i am strong enough to let you in.'
"by nature of our existence we are father and son, but by choice we are brothers. we are brothers we are brothers we are brothers. and i love you"
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#clone^2#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp dc#dp dc crossover#dpxdc au#dpdc au#ITS JUST. THEM. IM SORRY BUT ITS THEM AND I LOVE THEM.#damian's guilt of hurting danny and the consistent conversations they have from that. danny always tells damian he forgives him.#'i hurt you' 'i know' 'im sorry' 'i know'#'one day i hope you forgive yourself just as much as i have forgiven you.' 'repeat after me: its not your fault'#'youre my brother and i hurt you and im sorry. i love you.'#i should get around to making a post about the batfam meeting them but i just!!! I love damian and danny i love their dynamic#and i know that i was the one who decided that its years before they meet the batfam after meeting each other but its still just a choice#that im stil so happy about because they become brothers! they meet the batfam and they're expecting baby damian to be like how damian was#when he arrived in the manor but he's not. he's not. he wears funny graphic tees and his older brother is bruce's clone and its so clear#that they love each other. bby dames steals his brother's flannels and gets chased around by him. and they roughhouse like brothers do#and his older brother is bruce's clone and he throws damian over his shoulders and calls him 'dames' and 'dami' and 'my boy' and its so#so obvious that this clone of bruce utterly adores damian.#and i had the idea before writing this that damian's first english word is 'star' and he turns to danny and calls him star when he wants#his attention for something. he points at him and says 'star' and he doesn't do that much anymore now that he knows english#but its one of the first signs of him trusting danny when he first arrived.
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Cigna’s nopeinator
I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me THURSDAY (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!
Cigna – like all private health insurers – has two contradictory imperatives:
To keep its customers healthy; and
To make as much money for its shareholders as is possible.
Now, there's a hypothetical way to resolve these contradictions, a story much beloved by advocates of America's wasteful, cruel, inefficient private health industry: "If health is a "market," then a health insurer that fails to keep its customers healthy will lose those customers and thus make less for its shareholders." In this thought-experiment, Cigna will "find an equilibrium" between spending money to keep its customers healthy, thus retaining their business, and also "seeking efficiencies" to create a standard of care that's cost-effective.
But health care isn't a market. Most of us get our health-care through our employers, who offer small handful of options that nevertheless manage to be so complex in their particulars that they're impossible to directly compare, and somehow all end up not covering the things we need them for. Oh, and you can only change insurers once or twice per year, and doing so incurs savage switching costs, like losing access to your family doctor and specialists providers.
Cigna – like other health insurers – is "too big to care." It doesn't have to worry about losing your business, so it grows progressively less interested in even pretending to keep you healthy.
The most important way for an insurer to protect its profits at the expense of your health is to deny care that your doctor believes you need. Cigna has transformed itself into a care-denying assembly line.
Dr Debby Day is a Cigna whistleblower. Dr Day was a Cigna medical director, charged with reviewing denied cases, a job she held for 20 years. In 2022, she was forced out by Cigna. Writing for Propublica and The Capitol Forum, Patrick Rucker and David Armstrong tell her story, revealing the true "equilibrium" that Cigna has found:
https://www.propublica.org/article/cigna-medical-director-doctor-patient-preapproval-denials-insurance
Dr Day took her job seriously. Early in her career, she discovered a pattern of claims from doctors for an expensive therapy called intravenous immunoglobulin in cases where this made no medical sense. Dr Day reviewed the scientific literature on IVIG and developed a Cigna-wide policy for its use that saved the company millions of dollars.
This is how it's supposed to work: insurers (whether private or public) should permit all the medically necessary interventions and deny interventions that aren't supported by evidence, and they should determine the difference through internal reviewers who are treated as independent experts.
But as the competitive landscape for US healthcare dwindled – and as Cigna bought out more parts of its supply chain and merged with more of its major rivals – the company became uniquely focused on denying claims, irrespective of their medical merit.
In Dr Day's story, the turning point came when Cinga outsourced pre-approvals to registered nurses in the Philippines. Legally, a nurse can approve a claim, but only an MD can deny a claim. So Dr Day and her colleagues would have to sign off when a nurse deemed a procedure, therapy or drug to be medically unnecessary.
This is a complex determination to make, even under ideal circumstances, but Cigna's Filipino outsource partners were far from ideal. Dr Day found that nurses were "sloppy" – they'd confuse a mother with her newborn baby and deny care on that grounds, or confuse an injured hip with an injured neck and deny permission for an ultrasound. Dr Day reviewed a claim for a test that was denied because STI tests weren't "medically necessary" – but the patient's doctor had applied for a test to diagnose a toenail fungus, not an STI.
Even if the nurses' evaluations had been careful, Dr Day wanted to conduct her own, thorough investigation before overriding another doctor's judgment about the care that doctor's patient warranted. When a nurse recommended denying care "for a cancer patient or a sick baby," Dr Day would research medical guidelines, read studies and review the patient's record before signing off on the recommendation.
This was how the claims denial process is said to work, but it's not how it was supposed to work. Dr Day was markedly slower than her peers, who would "click and close" claims by pasting the nurses' own rationale for denying the claim into the relevant form, acting as a rubber-stamp rather than a skilled reviewer.
Dr Day knew she was slower than her peers. Cigna made sure of that, producing a "productivity dashboard" that scored doctors based on "handle time," which Cigna describes as the average time its doctors spend on different kinds of claims. But Dr Day and other Cigna sources say that this was a maximum, not an average – a way of disciplining doctors.
These were not long times. If a doctor asked Cigna not to discharge their patient from hospital care and a nurse denied that claim, the doctor reviewing that claim was supposed to spend not more than 4.5 minutes on their review. Other timelines were even more aggressive: many denials of prescription drugs were meant to be resolved in fewer than two minutes.
Cigna told Propublica and The Capitol Forum that its productivity scores weren't based on a simple calculation about whether its MD reviewers were hitting these brutal processing time targets, describing the scores as a proprietary mix of factors that reflected a nuanced view of care. But when Propublica and The Capitol Forum created a crude algorithm to generate scores by comparing a doctor's performance relative to the company's targets, they found the results fit very neatly into the actual scores that Cigna assigned to its docs:
The newsrooms’ formula accurately reproduced the scores of 87% of the Cigna doctors listed; the scores of all but one of the rest fell within 1 to 2 percentage points of the number generated by this formula. When asked about this formula, Cigna said it may be inaccurate but didn’t elaborate.
As Dr Day slipped lower on the productivity chart, her bosses pressured her bring her score up (Day recorded her phone calls and saved her emails, and the reporters verified them). Among other things, Dr Day's boss made it clear that her annual bonus and stock options were contingent on her making quota.
Cigna denies all of this. They smeared Dr Day as a "disgruntled former employee" (as though that has any bearing on the truthfulness of her account), and declined to explain the discrepancies between Dr Day's accusations and Cigna's bland denials.
This isn't new for Cigna. Last year, Propublica and Capitol Forum revealed the existence of an algorithmic claims denial system that allowed its doctors to bulk-deny claims in as little as 1.2 seconds:
https://www.propublica.org/article/cigna-pxdx-medical-health-insurance-rejection-claims
Cigna insisted that this was a mischaracterization, saying the system existed to speed up the approval of claims, despite the first-hand accounts of Cigna's own doctors and the doctors whose care recommendations were blocked by the system. One Cigna doctor used this system to "review" and deny 60,000 claims in one month.
Beyond serving as an indictment of the US for-profit health industry, and of Cigna's business practices, this is also a cautionary tale about the idea that critical AI applications can be resolved with "humans in the loop."
AI pitchmen claim that even unreliable AI can be fixed by adding a "human in the loop" that reviews the AI's judgments:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs
In this world, the AI is an assistant to the human. For example, a radiologist might have an AI double-check their assessments of chest X-rays, and revisit those X-rays where the AI's assessment didn't match their own. This robot-assisted-human configuration is called a "centaur."
In reality, "human in the loop" is almost always a reverse-centaur. If the hospital buys an AI, fires half its radiologists and orders the remainder to review the AI's superhuman assessments of chest X-rays, that's not an AI assisted radiologist, that's a radiologist-assisted AI. Accuracy goes down, but so do costs. That's the bet that AI investors are making.
Many AI applications turn out not to even be "AI" – they're just low-waged workers in an overseas call-center pretending to be an algorithm (some Indian techies joke that AI stands for "absent Indians"). That was the case with Amazon's Grab and Go stores where, supposedly, AI-enabled cameras counted up all the things you put in your shopping basket and automatically billed you for them. In reality, the cameras were connected to Indian call-centers where low-waged workers made those assessments:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain
This Potemkin AI represents an intermediate step between outsourcing and AI. Over the past three decades, the growth of cheap telecommunications and logistics systems let corporations outsource customer service to low-waged offshore workers. The corporations used the excuse that these subcontractors were far from the firm and its customers to deny them any agency, giving them rigid scripts and procedures to follow.
This was a very usefully dysfunctional system. As a customer with a complaint, you would call the customer service line, wait for a long time on hold, spend an interminable time working through a proscribed claims-handling process with a rep who was prohibited from diverging from that process. That process nearly always ended with you being told that nothing could be done.
At that point, a large number of customers would have given up on getting a refund, exchange or credit. The money paid out to the few customers who were stubborn or angry enough to karen their way to a supervisor and get something out of the company amounted to pennies, relative to the sums the company reaped by ripping off the rest.
The Amazon Grab and Go workers were humans in robot suits, but these customer service reps were robots in human suits. The software told them what to say, and they said it, and all they were allowed to say was what appeared on their screens. They were reverse centaurs, serving as the human faces of the intransigent robots programmed by monopolists that were too big to care.
AI is the final stage of this progression: robots without the human suits. The AI turns its "human in the loop" into a "moral crumple zone," which Madeleine Clare Elish describes as "a component that bears the brunt of the moral and legal responsibilities when the overall system malfunctions":
https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260
The Filipino nurses in the Cigna system are an avoidable expense. As Cigna's own dabbling in algorithmic claim-denial shows, they can be jettisoned in favor of a system that uses productivity dashboards and other bossware to push doctors to robosign hundreds or thousands of denials per day, on the pretense that these denials were "reviewed" by a licensed physician.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/29/what-part-of-no/#dont-you-understand
#pluralistic#cigna#computer says no#bossware#moral crumple zones#medicare for all#m4a#whistleblowers#dr debby day#Madeleine Clare Elish#automation#ai#outsourcing#human in the loop#humans in the loop
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RECKLESS ABANDON--------
CHAPTER THREE - some faces are friendlier than others.
TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)
PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER
TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns
"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."
Fluorescent lights, you've come to realize, might be the lowest layer of hell. Lower than high school and broken noses and every other unpleasant thing you've experienced thus far in your short life.
The low buzz and flicker of the sterile fixtures above your head seemed to follow you everywhere; almost mocking you. They were there years ago in the hospital as you held bloodied newspapers up to your disfigured nose, watching the nurses talk to your social worker about what to do with you—then again at your first time working a full nightshift at the gas station down the street. They were there at every adoption party growing up as you stood in the corner, awkwardly shuffling your feet as you—begrudgingly—introduced yourself to every adult that approached you. Every school you attended, every clinic, hospital, and residency had them; lights sent from hell to assault your eyes specifically.
Even now, as you shoot upright in the spare dorm-like room Price supplied you with, the fixtures are above your head. The only difference is that this time, they’re off. Your brain swims, your breathing tight and fleeting as you grasp the fabric of your sweater in attempts to calm your raging heart. When that doesn’t work, you throw the covers off and stumble for the door. Cold, bare feet hitting the linoleum as shaky hands fumble through the dark for the bathroom doorknob. When you finally get inside, you retch into the sink.
Everything between arriving at your house two days ago and ending up here is a blur.
You don’t leave your room much after the talk with Price—fully content to just sleep the days and nights away until the nightmares took hold. You only wake up whenever Price knocks on your door and coasts you out to show you around.
You don't know what to think about him---not yet---but you're pretty sure he's safe. He's painfully British; with thick facial hair framing his face and the faint smell of cigar smoke lingering on his fatigues when you open the door. Unlike the others you've seen hanging around, always looking very official in pristine business-casual wear or covered head to toe in gear, he has a worn hat that never leaves his head.
He shows you the basics, introducing you to his colleagues around the building and making conversation as you walk.
The bathroom is down the hall, dining facility is downstairs, medical wing on the first floor, the common areas, Laswell’s office, and Price’s office…you can’t say you were able to pay much attention.
Not when that huge, skull-masked Lieutenant is in the same room as you for some of it.
It's then that you learn his name.
"Ghost?" You question, raising an eyebrow. You watch the man in question—looking utterly out of place as he slides over to sit with a few others at a table nearby. He's dressed casually in a black jacket and dark tactical pants; but the balaclava and mask still remain.
Price places a hand on your shoulder.
"Ghost, Soap…" he nods towards the Scot you recognize from the day before. He looks a bit more approachable than his masked counterpart, at least—poking fun at the Lieutenant next to him. There's a thick bandage around his forearm where you bit him yesterday.
Then, Price gestures to the only one you haven't met yet. "...And Gaz.”
The man is already looking at you when you meet his gaze, but he quickly glances away again, distracted by Soap who claps a hand to his shoulder. Whatever he says must be funny, because Gaz laughs and shakes his head, distracted.
"Weird names," you remark, and that earns a chuckle from the captain.
"Callsigns," he replies. "Nicknames, basically. Stick around long enough you might earn one yourself…but let's hope not."
You nod. Your hand comes up to once again brush at the cold dog tags around your neck. "Right. Yeah, let's hope not."
"You'll be spending a lotta time with 'em for now, probably," Price says, tugging at the brim of his hat as he continues walking, briefly catching your gaze. "So, I suggest you get used to 'em."
A knot of dread forms in your stomach at his statement. You glance behind you as you walk—eyes locked on the skull mask. Again, your head reels with the memory of yesterday. Gunshots. Yelling. Blood on your sneakers.
Blood, blood, blood.
You swallow heavily, "Even Ghost?"
You're sure your unease isn't lost on Price from the way he looks at you. He places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, giving it a couple pats as he guides you along with an affirmative nod.
“Yes,” he says. "Even Ghost."
The thought makes your mind uneasy. You swear your heart hasn’t stopped jackrabbiting in your chest since you left your house. It feels like you should be running, fighting, escaping—something—but instead you find yourself barely leaving your bed. Your hands itch for your phone to distract yourself but, alas, the only thing Price left you with is your blood-splattered sneakers which sit in the corner. For good reason, you suppose.
You spend hours staring at the light fixtures above your head in the spare bunk, thinking about everything in your life that's led you up to this point; your father's lies, endless adoption papers, letters, and bright fluorescent lights. Everything and nothing all at once. When you finally get to sleep, that's when you find yourself jolting awake at night and stumbling to the bathroom.
When the gagging finally calms, you stand there. Clammy hands grip the edges of the sink as you breathe—in and out—and swallow back the bitter bile that sticks to your throat. In your panic, you never even bothered to turn on the lights, and your eyes shine as you make eye contact with your reflection in the dark, dingy mirror. Light spills in from the hallway behind you, casting a halo of light on your frazzled hair.
Ugh. You look awful; your bruised eye swollen and irritated again from tossing and turning. The skin on your arms and face is still rubbed raw from viciously scrubbing the blood off in the shower days ago, and you still didn't feel clean. Dried tears streak your face from crying in your sleep. The thought alone of someone seeing you like this is enough for you to steal yourself. You take a shaky breath in before letting it out, and you switch on the sink to wash your vomit down the drain. While you’re at it, numb hands cup the freezing running water before splashing some onto your face, and you stare at yourself for a little while—acquainting yourself with the reality that yes. This is happening. Your father faked his death before dying again and now there’s people after you; the man with the scar on his face, you assume, and maybe others. No, you don’t know the code that Price mentioned and no—you don’t know what’s going on.
You swallow again.
It is what it is.
The dog tags glint against the low light as you turn the faucet off.
Your breathing settled and your heart rate calmed, you're left with a shakiness that comes with the lack of adrenaline. You lean against the sink for a moment, basking in the silence as the last of your nightmare fades. You're so lost in thought that the sound of shuffling and low voices in the hallway are almost, almost lost on you.
"It was supposed to be a quiet mission for a reason."
Price's voice can be heard, muffled, down the hall—and you freeze slightly.
"Yeah, well…you can thank the Shadows for that one." Another, deeper, British accent replies. One that makes the hairs on your neck prickle. "'Mission was to extract the kid. That's it. If Johnny didn't shoot first, Graves would've. And we both know how that would've ended."
Price sighs tiredly in response, their voices growing closer as they turn the corner. You can almost picture him running a hand down his face as he does, the other on his hip. Then, their footsteps stop a little ways down the hall.
"'Suppose you're right," he says. "Just…try not to scare 'em too bad. You know Sparky would want—"
"Yeah…I know," Ghost grunts back, interrupting. "No promises."
A moment passes.
There's an unspoken goodbye before you hear footsteps fading off again, signaling one of them has left. You take a breath and wipe your face before stepping out into the hallway. You feel his gaze flicker to you as you cross the threshold and pretend not to notice him. Shaky hands fumble with the doorknob.
It feels eerily similar to the first time you both met. When he effortlessly killed two men, splattered the blood on you, and then turned around so nonchalantly and asked—
"You good?"
You freeze up. Finally, you turn to look at him.
He's not wearing the mask. Not the skull one, at least, and it works to ease your nerves a little. The fact that you can see an eyebrow rise at you through a balaclava helps you remember that he is—somehow—human. A human with a plastic water bottle, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter in his hand with no gun in sight.
You wipe your face again. Your throat is tight as you speak, as if you've forgotten how to do it altogether, "peachy."
He huffs a breath at your sarcasm, but he doesn't press further.
"Good," he says. "'Cause it looks like you've seen a ghost."
You scoff, "you're not funny."
He shifts and tosses you the water bottle in his hand. You flinch and just barely manage to catch it by the cap. Then, confused by the gesture, you look back up at him.
"Keep your head up, kid," he says, the subtle softness of his tone not lost on you—although it seems completely foreign. "'Cause, with the way things are lookin', it'll get worse before it gets better."
It's strange and cryptic. Your heart lodges in your throat from the strange advice as you lower your brow at him. "What does?"
"The blood."
You let out a shaky breath, looking away. "That's hardly comforting."
A moment passes where he just looks at you. You're unsure what he sees; other than a pathetic, disheveled teenager who just finished dry heaving into a public bathroom sink over a stupid nightmare. You feel uncomfortable—like he's reading your thoughts, or maybe he's just amused that you're scared of him. You’re unsure.
"Maybe not," he shrugs and finally looks away, unlocking his door. "But it's the truth."
You swallow down your unease as you look down at the water bottle.
A part of you knows he’s right. Whatever your father got himself tangled up in—it involved you now. You were being chased and if there was anything you knew about how these stories went; someone was going to end up dead. Sulking wasn’t going to get you answers, and it certainly wasn’t going to help you going forwards. You had no idea how the people in the movies, comics, video games, and TV shows always seemed so put-together. How they—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and your father—managed to sleep at night with what they did. What they saw.
"Does it get easier?" You ask, for some reason. Your voice is quiet. Strained.
Ghost seems caught off guard by the question, because he hesitates in his doorway—a gloved hand resting on the doorknob. He doesn’t look at you, not really, and you don’t look at him. You can hear the rain tapping against the window at the end of the hall and the sound of thunder rumbling across the sky above. You figure he can read minds, because he seems to completely understand what you’re asking without needing to explain much.
“If you’ve seen enough,” he finally speaks. “Yes ... you do get used to it.”
A moment passes before he shifts and looks at you again.
“But try not to," he adds. "Your old man didn’t die just for you to get screwed up like the rest of us.”
And, with that, he steps into his quarters and shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile hallway. Fluorescent lights flicker above your head.
@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech
#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#john price#call of duty#call of duty fanfiction#call of duty x reader#call of duty reader insert#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john price x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader
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Desiderium I
Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader
-> Part II
Note: This fic absolutely breaks cannon in multiple ways, but I felt the urge to write this and created it thus lol, so I hope you enjoy regardless (and for my own sanity, we'll just call this an avenger!Loki au).
Synopsis:
Loki is plagued by a dream thrust upon him as punishment during his imprisonment, and finds that even once he regains his freedom, he still can't move past the vision of the life he could have had with you.
And when those around him struggle to understand his sorrows, he decides to show them firsthand what he endured while asleep that night, and all that he lost both by waking up, and by making all of the wrong choices for far too long.
Oh, but it's never truly over, is it?
And your sudden reappearance proves that.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of pregnancy
Word Count: 5,057
"Does he ever stop sulking?"
Tony muttered under his breath after sparing a quick glance toward the aesir God of Mischief that sat in the corner of the room, staring into a cloud of green created by his own hand with a type of longing he had worn almost constantly for months now.
At first, many had thought his sullen nature to be a result of his capture and subsequent imprisonment, but even now that he was far more free to roam and do what he pleased (within reason), his somber attitude still had yet to let up.
In fact, some would even swear that it had gotten worse.
The God of Thunder included, and also in particular.
From the beginning, Thor had perhaps been the biggest defender of his younger brother, and of course he had, how could he not be?
But even still, when it came to the questioning of Loki's less than enthusiastic (and at times, borderline concerning) behavior, Thor somehow managed to become even more defensive of his confusing family member and all of the quirks that he seemed to have.
This occasion included.
He turned toward Anthony Edward Stark with a slight frown, a sigh that seemed reserved purely for situations concerning Loki passing his lips,
"All of this has been rather... difficult for him. There is much that he misses about our realm, and even more that he has lost."
Tony rose a brow at that, fighting back a groan at the seemingly constant dramatics of the "Odinson" siblings.
Who would have thought that two gods could be so annoyingly theatrical?
"A lot of people have lost a lot of things, Point Break. Some of them at his hand, in case you need a reminder."
Tony muttered, struggling to find sympathy for the green themed deity sitting across the room, a look of deep longing and sorrow in his gaze as he continued staring into the cloud of his own creation.
Thor sighed again.
"I do not, Stark, nor does my brother. He had a multitude of things revealed to him in dreams delivered by the gods whilst locked away. He is... Not the same."
Tony sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to return his focus toward what he'd been doing before he'd made the mistake of mentioning Loki to his older brother.
"Whatever you say, big guy. Just do me a favor though and ask him if he can practice his daily sulking rituals somewhere else. His whole 'woe is me' vibe makes it a little hard to focus."
Thor sighed again at his comrade's obvious lack of compassion toward his clearly suffering sibling, but he nodded nonetheless.
"I will see what I can do, Stark."
And with that, he was taking familiarly heavy steps toward Loki, each growing more hesitant than the last as he took in the full sight of him.
It was no wonder that Tony found his presence to be so distracting, because in truth, you could all but feel his angst rolling off of him in waves, strong and undeniably present in a manner that almost made the god himself shiver.
It was not easy for the god of mischief, what he was going through, but perhaps even Thor himself had managed to underestimate it.
Perhaps he should have been even more concerned than he already was.
"Loki."
He said stiffly upon his approach, watching as the god in question briefly glanced in his direction in acknowledgement before returning his gaze back to his seidr.
"I sympathize greatly with your sorrows, and I wish truly that I could do away with them for you, but a request has been made for you to better contain your bereavements, if possible, and I think it would be best for you to try."
Thor said calmly, though he could see as plain as day that his words had done no good, a fact made evident by the way that his brother turned to look at him, as if both wounded and infuriated at the very same time.
What a familiar look that was for the mischief god to wear these days.
He stood, green cloud disappearing as he did so, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
"Do you believe somehow that I have not already done all that I can to contain my grief, you blithering fool?"
He all but hissed, anger controlling his words but a deep and pervasive sadness evident in his eyes, allowing the god of thunder to see far beyond the ruse his sibling was attempting to put up.
Loki was hurting, perhaps beyond anything that he had endured before, and Thor was unsure if that could have been made any more clear.
The god of mischief took a step closer, slowly, threateningly, as if he might frighten the being standing before him, the only one present that had ever truly seen the good in him, the angel before the fall.
A trickster to be sure, but the villain that he so desperately tried to make himself out to be? Thor could not see such a thing, not in the eyes of one he had grown up alongside of.
Not in his brother, regardless of blood.
Regardless of what was said or done.
"You haven't the slightest clue what I have endured, and yet you have the gall to request that I reign in my pain, as if it is not all that has been left of me? All that has not been so crudely taken?"
He snarled, coming closer, ignoring the heavy gaze of Anthony Stark as it landed upon him, and choosing to pay no mind to the fact that he had undoubtedly called the others in, a fact made clear by the large number of footfalls that grew nearer and nearer by the second.
Maybe Tony was simply a fool made cautious by what he had seen the god do in the past, or maybe he just wished to not be the only audience for this particular spat.
Either way, it mattered not to Loki.
The god in question was far too tired, far too angry, and far too confused to let such a disrespect as this pass.
If they did not understand, then he would make them, and maybe then they could comprehend the realness, the immense depth and crushing weight of his pain.
The burden he bore.
The reaping of what he had sowed long ago, without even realizing it.
The universe had never been fair, not to him, and it was apparent now that such a truth had persevered from the very start.
Back before his title had meant more than a whisper to him, before he had felt the need to prove he was more.
When there had been so much more kindness in his heart and light in his life.
When there had been hope,
When there had been you.
Thor put his hands up defensively, though how secure he truly felt in spite of this almost entirely symbolic and pleading gesture was made clear by his tone, which was pitying in every sense of the word.
"Calm down, brother, I meant no disrespect. I simply feel a deep worry for you, I do not want to watch you suffer any longer. It is a heavy weight upon me to know that you are so burdened."
He said appealingly, eyes full of a type of plea and concern that, once upon a time, might have caused the god of mischief to think for a moment, and perhaps even halt his actions altogether.
But now was not then, and after all that he had seen, all that was now and could have been, he found that his brother's words only served to make him angrier.
"You feel a heavy weight, do you?"
He said darkly, stalking ever forward, even as Thor backed away slowly with each step, not wishing to see his family member trapped in a cage once again as a result of some petty fight.
There was rage in Loki's eyes now, though it did nothing to cancel out the sadness there.
It was clear what was driving him, but even more evident was how upset the god was about that fact.
He did not like being so controlled by his emotions, resented the way that everyone could tell how he was feeling in spite of how hard he tried to hide it.
He had done his best to conceal his sorrows and this was what he had gotten? A request for more, as if he would not have hidden them away entirely in favor of allowing those who were once his enemies to see his weaknesses? The way that truth had changed him?
It infuriated him to no end.
"Can you even begin to imagine then,"
He started, voice low, but just loud enough so that every avenger who had now entered the room could hear it from where they stood together in silence, watching as Loki stalked ever closer to his brother, hands still clenched at his sides, jaw unfathomably tense, and muscles twitching with a quiet kind of rage.
"What I am feeling?"
He finished viciously.
Thor frowned, voice still full of pity and something akin to longing as he replied, tone still entirely bereft of fear,
"I know only what you have told me, dear brother."
He said, watching as Loki all but scoffed at his words,
"So in that way, yes, I suppose I am capable of imagining what you must feel."
The god of mischief laughed in response to this, a humorless and cold sound that was choked by some long abided pain, some endless suffering that only a god could understand, and that no mere mortal could ever endure and survive.
"I think not."
He snapped angrily, watching as Thor's brow creased in response, not understanding what about his reply had been so terribly wrong that it had brought about such a strong reaction from his sibling.
Loki continued,
"I think that if you could even begin to comprehend what I have seen, what I have lost, you would never even think to make an attempt at consoling or correcting me, nor could you ever deign to imagine believing that the small amounts of my grief witnessed through my behavior could be decreased any further. If you could truly understand, you would know the weight that I carry, and you would see that it could never be lessened, because there is truly no greater grief than that which I am suffering from!"
Thor stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before finally he spoke up once more, voice slightly smaller, though still not lacking in compassion or empathy.
"Brother, I beg you to help me understand better so I may communicate this suffering of yours to those around us who do not know you as well as I. We are guests here on Midgard, and I cannot allow for you to push this pain of yours onto our hosts so endlessly without solution or a shared understanding in mind. How can you expect anyone to have faith or sympathy for you if you will not tell us what has happened?"
Thor's pleas caused yet another round of laughter to burst forth from the god of mischief, though this one was less pained and a bit more angry, a twinge of eagerness to it that did not spell out anything good, not for Thor nor any of the unwelcome audience present within the room alongside them.
"You wish for me to let them see? For me to grant you understanding?"
Loki hissed out, a familiar and volatile energy filling the room as he began to use his seidr to do just that.
"Loki-"
Thor warned, moving to take a step forward when suddenly, the entire room seemed to disappear beneath his feet, and without warning, he found himself in a place entirely unfamiliar to him, standing amongst his peers in a small crowd that occupied some unseen corner of whatever space this was.
He watched as Tony turned to look at him, frustration and confusion etched into his features and mouth opening to speak just as a familiar voice cut through the silence.
It was Loki, but not the one that those watching had come to know.
No, this was a Loki long forgotten by time and entirely unknown by the avengers present to witness this dream that the god of mischief had once so vaguely described to his brother while in the thralls of his pain.
This was the vision that the gods had shown to the adopted son of Odin during his imprisonment within the Avenger's tower months prior.
This was where his sadness, his grief, and his longing had stemmed from.
And it was clear, as they all watched on, why that may have been.
It was beautiful here, wherever here was.
The sun shone through every window, and this place, clearly a home, was adorned with stunning textiles and masonry, each detail obviously considered and brought to life with such care and intention that it could bring one to tears if they focused on it long enough.
Thankfully for the onlookers though, this would not be necessary, because the Loki in question who stood before them made for quite a distracting sight.
He looked younger here somehow, features untouched by some pervasive strain or anger that had long since gotten to the man that was so well known to them now.
His expression was peaceful, happy, so devoid of the angst or maliciousness that many were used to seeing.
This version of Loki, whoever he was, and whenever he had existed, was one that did not yet know the things that he did now, one that had found something that his truest self had not.
Happiness.
And it was clear, as this version of the god of mischief spoke, where that came from.
"Dearest Starlight, have you the faintest idea of how much I've missed you?"
He muttered into the hair of the woman standing before him, one arm wrapped around her while the other cupped the back of her head gently, lovingly, and with such fondness that it almost hurt to watch
This was a man overcome with, and undoubtedly changed by love.
They could see it in his eyes and the way that they lit up when the woman, whoever she was, moved away slightly to look up at him, and in the way that he pressed his forehead to hers with such love and clearly intentional gentleness.
He adored this person standing before him, and judging by the tears brimming in Thor's blue eyes, she was far more than a simple dream, or someone made up by the mind to have and to hold.
No, this was someone that they had known, perhaps long ago, perhaps yesterday, for the timing itself mattered ever so little.
What mattered instead, was that this individual, whoever she was, meant the world and more to the very person that the onlooking crowd had once believed to be devoid of the organ capable of love and affection.
She was important, and she was special, and above all else, she was seemingly a vast source of grief for the two son's of Odin, though one in particular far more than the other, the latter of which stood amongst them with a sadness that was almost assuredly not for himself evident within his gaze.
Thor may have known this girl, whoever she may be or have been, but his tears were not for his own loss of her, no, they were instead for Loki's. He watched the two of them with such rapt and sad fondness that it was all but impossible to deny that fact.
He adored what the two of them shared, and mourned its absence.
And in truth, the unwelcome onlookers could not help but feel similarly.
This woman was beautiful to be sure, with shining hair and twinkling eyes, and a gentle touch that she laid upon the deity standing before her with such care and devotion.
She smiled up at him lovingly, mouth still curved upward even as she spoke, her reply teasing, but far from mockery, mischievous in a way that was befitting of any love of Loki Laufeyson.
"Just me?"
She asked amusedly, carting her fingers through the god's soft black locks and watching with gentle laughter as he simply rolled his eyes in response before he leaned down to kiss her sweetly without a single word, the arm that was still wrapped around her waist tugging her closer before he finally pulled away a few seconds later, joy obvious within his expression, in spite of her ardent teasing.
"Do not ask me such foolish questions, my dear, or I may just be required to seal your lips against mine for all eternity to keep you quiet."
He murmured with his forehead pressed against hers, his nose brushing against her cheek for a few moments until he pulled back with a sigh,
"I suppose I should change before I make myself at home again, hmm?"
He asked with mock exasperation, tucking a few strands of the woman's hair behind her ear as she laughed in reply, nodding almost immediately.
"That would most certainly make me a happy wife, indeed."
She said, pulling further away from him before walking over to the kitchen area and removing something from the oven,
"Now hurry up and change before dinner gets too cold, foolish prince, or you may just find Thor helping himself to your portion again."
Loki gave an amused glare in response to this, but said nothing more, wandering swiftly down a long and dark hallway until he faded from view entirely.
After this, there was silence for a minute or two, a peaceful and joyous one that was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the woman's gentle humming, or one of a few a small noises from further down the hall, none of which seemed important enough to capture the woman in question's attention.
That being said, as Loki returned, something else did, though it notably grabbed hold of that of the audience as well, who stared on together in shock, though Thor was clearly the most baffled of them all.
For there was Loki Laufeyson, adopted son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, and god of mischief, with a child on his hip, one with hair the very color of his, and eyes that were an exact copy of his own.
The woman standing in the kitchen crossed her arms upon her husband's entrance into the room, raising a brow at him as she sighed and approached the two beings who had just graced her with their presence.
"And what business do you believe our daughter has with being up so late, Mr. Laufeyson?"
She questioned teasingly as she pressed a gentle kiss to the head of the little girl who was being held so affectionately within her father's arms, a sweet burble of laughter escaping her as the woman's lips tickled her skin.
The audience watched on in utter shock as Loki smiled softly at the sight, his shoulders shrugging slightly as he bounced the child, who appeared to be around a year old, upon his hip, arms keeping her steady with a well practiced and easy grace found only within a parent that had been present and involved enough to know their child like the back of their hand.
"I believe she has business with welcoming her dear father home regardless of the hour. Would you disagree, Mrs. Laufeyson?"
He murmured gently as he leaned forward to press a lingering kiss against his wife's lips, smirking at the sight of her reddened cheeks as he pulled away.
The wife in question sputtered for a brief moment before finally responding, glaring slightly up at the god of mischief for his antics, though they were no doubt familiar to her by now, judging by the ring wrapped around her finger and the child she had so plainly bore that sat now upon her husband's hip.
"I suppose not."
She replied gently, watching as Loki placed the child into her high chair, offering a toy of his very own creation to distract her with as he approached his spouse with a rather eager grin.
"No?"
He asked softly as he moved to stand behind her, his hands finding her shoulders and massaging the tense muscles there gently, his smile only growing as she sighed at the feeling and leaned into him with a practiced ease borne clearly of a long nurtured trust.
"How kind of you to see things my way for once, dear wife."
He murmured against the shell of the woman's ear, sending a shiver down her spine even as she rolled her eyes in response to his overly teasing tone and his seemingly ceaseless need to make an attempt at pushing her buttons.
"I wouldn't go as far as to say that, my prince."
She sighed out, still clearly pleased with the feeling of his hands rubbing practiced and efficient circles into her skin,
"I am simply allowing you this one small victory while you may still have it."
The god of mischief smirked upon hearing this, his brow raised and his voice low as he replied,
"Allowing me, hmm? What a benevolent ruler you are, starlight."
He all but purred out, and the woman nodded absently, still clearly wrapped up in the feeling of his hands on her body.
"Aren't I?"
She asked, a smile growing upon her face as she spoke,
"Allowing you to wake up our one year old daughter upon your return before you're forced to cease such childish behaviors once your son arrives in a few months time. How generous of me."
Loki hummed and replaced one of his hands that had been resting upon her shoulder with his chin, allowing his now free hand to travel down to her stomach, pressing against it and providing the opportunity for the onlookers to note for the very first time the way that it was rounded out slightly with child, yet another piece of evidence of the love that they shared.
A love that the Loki Laufeyson that they knew, the one that had been captured, imprisoned, and seemingly rehabilitated, had never known.
A love that he perhaps could have had, if only things had been different.
Slowly, faintly, at the sounds of softening laughter and contented discussions, the scene before everyone faded, and the harsh light of the tower persisted once more, blinding them all sharply in a way that the softness of the vision had not managed.
And there, before all of them, stood Loki, looking more than a little haggard with his hair out of place and his eyes brimming with tears.
It was Thor who spoke first.
"It was that which you saw, brother?"
He asked sympathetically, only for Loki to shake his head in response, tone far less angry and much more despondent as he spoke.
The sight of that vision, that memory of a dream delivered unto him one harsh evening to teach him some horrible lesson, had clearly hurt him far more than he wished to let on, and perhaps even more than he had thought it would.
"No."
He said,
"What I saw was far worse, I'm afraid."
Thor's eyebrows creased with both concern and confusion,
"Worse? Brother, I do not-"
"I had entire life with her, Thor."
Loki murmured gently, staring down at his own two shaking hands as if in disbelief that they belonged to him at all,
"I-I had thought truly that everything, all of this suffering and self-hatred had been the real dream all along, and that my time with her, beginning from back when we were all just children again, was reality."
He looked into his brother's eyes then, and allowed him to see the pain there, the sadness and longing for a life he had once believed himself to have lived, a life where he had chosen differently, and found better.
"I did everything the very same as in this lifetime, except instead of choosing power, or some poorly perceived form of acceptance at the hands of our father, I chose her every single time. I married her, brother, stood at the altar and watched her come to me, watched her be granted her rightful immortality at my side, built a house with her, for her, gave her a daughter, and a son, and many other children who I cannot bear to think about because I am in ruin over the fact that they were never real."
He paused, chest heaving, eyes never leaving those of his brother before finally, he continued,
"I know their names, Thor."
He choked out,
"The names of my children, every son and daughter born with some combination of my eyes and her smile, or her hair and my nose. I know their favorite foods, the toy they prefer over all of the rest, and the song that their mother would sing to put them to sleep the fastest."
His tears were beginning to run now, though if Loki noticed, he did not move to wipe them away or to hide them.
"I know everything about them, and yet they are not here, never were, and never will be, and it feels like I have lost all that I ever deigned to love. My wife, my children, a version of myself that I did not loathe, they are all lost to me, and I have died a thousand deaths for every waking moment spent without them by my side."
Thor's own eyes had grown teary now, and he stepped forward slowly, his arm outstretched, as if hoping to reach into his brother and take this pain away with his bare hands alone.
"Dear brother, forgive me."
He said softly, voice shaky in a way that was so very uncharacteristic of him,
"I did not know, I swear it."
Loki shook his head, some shadow of a smile, pained and without any semblance of joy finding his face,
"I know, Thor."
He said quietly,
"But do not waste your apologies on me. It is not your fault for not truly knowing, but mine for believing I could have her back again. She is gone, and I should have known that I could only ever have her in dreams."
Thor opened his mouth to speak, his expression flooded with sorrow, only to find that there was nothing that he could say.
The bridge to you was one that his brother had burned a long time ago, which had been lying in embers since.
Was he not right that you were largely gone from him? A memory of perhaps undeserved yet so very innocent love that he had shut out in order to keep moving forward until the gods had thrust what the two of you could have been upon him so cruelly?
It had been ages now, since Loki had seen or heard of you, and Thor was ashamed to admit that he too had locked you away in memory in favor of moving forward.
A childhood playmate, a most loyal friend far past adulthood, the once almost-lover of his mischievous younger brother, you were a great many things to him, and yet he could scarcely bear to think of you now.
Betrayal was what he had once thought of whenever you came to mind, but now, so many years later, he could see that you had never been the one to betray.
It had been him all along, him and Loki, albeit for two differing reasons.
Either way, the little witch they had once both known so fondly had been long dead to them for many moons now, until the very sight of you so happy, so alive, in spite of the fact that such a vision was a dream brought on by some vengeful deity, sent you careening back into their minds once more.
Where were you now? How had you fared without them, and possibly without your family as well? Were you even alive at all, after all of this time with only a witchling's feeble immortality to keep you alive rather than the godly kind that Loki had helped to bestow upon you within his dream?
Thor shook off these thoughts almost as quickly as they came, and watched on helplessly as Loki began to make his way toward the exit, eyes glued to the ground to avoid making eye contact with the small group of Avengers who had continued to watch on in surprise.
And perhaps, one of them may have piped up to say something, anything to provide comfort to the once so pesky god, had it not been for the sudden shift in the air, followed shortly thereafter by the very shredding of reality itself, as a tear opened up on the far wall, revealing a dark shimmering swirl of colors and lights that soon spat out a figure adorned in clothing that may have appeared foreign to any Midgardian, but was so very familiar to the one aesir god who stared on in utter shock.
Loki, on the other hand, seemed either entirely unaware of the strange circumstance occurring behind him, or uncaring of it, as he continued on his quest to leave the room entirely.
That is, until a voice so familiar that it all but snapped his heart in two called out to him.
"L-Loki?"
It asked weakly, strained and soft, but just barely loud enough to reach him where he stood.
The average man may have froze up entirely, disbelieving their own ears and blaming their minds for playing such cruel tricks on them, but Loki was no average man, and he did not believe his mind capable of making such a mistake.
He knew what he had heard.
He turned around instantly, already wide eyes growing wider when he found you on the floor there, an old cloak of his wrapped tightly around your shoulders.
"Starlight?"
He breathed out in utter disbelief, making his way over in just a few long and intentional strides before he all but collapsed to his knees in front of you.
#loki x reader#loki x yn#loki x female reader#loki x fem reader#loki marvel#loki odinson x reader#loki laufeyson x reader#loki x you#loki odinson#loki fanfiction#loki series#loki laufeyson#loki x reader angst#loki angst
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Chapter 11: if my wishes came true, it would've been you
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader
WC: 4.7k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining
Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.
July 21, 1814 - In a rather interesting turn of events, Miss Y/N Beaumont was once more seen promenading on the arm of Anthony Bridgerton. It appeared that the two were quite happily chatting away, an increasingly common sight that comes after almost a month of barely any social appearances for our lady of the season. Was this just another friendly promenade, or could a romance be brewing between the two? Given the closeness of the two families, a union between them would be unsurprising. However, this author was most surprised that it was Anthony who decided to pursue Miss Beaumont rather than her long-time companion, Benedict.
"So you two are properly courting?" asked Hyacinth, shoving the latest Whisteldown column in both of your faces. You were sitting beside Anthony in the Bridgerton sitting room, your book set haphazardly on your lap after Hyacinth had barged in demanding answers.
"Something like that, yes," answered Anthony, grabbing the sheet of paper from her and skimming it over for where it mentioned you.
"What do you mean 'something like that'? You're either courting or you aren't, Anthony," came Hyacinth's exasperated response. You laughed softly at her impatience, understanding her frustration. You, at times, felt the same way. It was an unusual partnership, to be sure, but you were enjoying yourself thus far. You found you could attend social events again, not feeling any pressure to engage in conversation with slimy or uninteresting men.
"It means that I am attending balls again, Hyacinth. It also means that I can continue writing down detailed summaries of these balls and giving them to you the morning after," you said, hoping to distract her from asking any further questions about your courtship with Anthony.
And it seemed to have worked. Her face lit up, knowing you were the only person who currently attended balls that was kind enough, and attentive enough, to keep her informed about the goings on of the ton. She squealed and rushed to hug you, exclaiming "Thank you thank you thank you!!!" into your neck. You hugged her back, amused by her antics.
Suddenly, Hyacinth turned to Anthony, eyes narrowed. "You had better be a good suitor to Y/N. Will you be attending balls with her? And if so, will you be dancing with her? And will you be calling on her? Will you bring her flowers?" she interrogated. Hyacinth considered you to be one of the sweetest from the older bunch of Beaumont-Bridgertons. At least, you never made fun of her and you took her seriously enough that she could have grown-up conversations with you. So Hyacinth wanted to make sure that you were going to be properly courted by her brother. Truthfully, she had hoped you would end up with Benedict. She thought the two of you were in love, based on how he talked about you and how you looked at him, but she supposed she was too young to understand the more complicated aspects of romantic feelings, and perhaps she had misjudged whatever was going on between you and Ben. Nevertheless, she wanted at least one of her brothers to court you the way you deserved, especially after reading about the mostly unpleasant encounters you had with potential suitors thanks to your accounts of your evenings as a debutante.
Anthony patted Hyacinth on her head, laughing at her protectiveness. "Yes, I will be doing whatever Y/N would like me to do. Now run along, I've been attacked in my own home long enough." With a satisfied huff, Hyacinth ran out of the sitting room just as fast as she had come in, snatching Lady Whistledown's column out of Anthony's hand and taking it with her.
You smiled after her, shaking your head fondly. Anthony had let you take the lead on the speed and nature of your courtship, and you were more than grateful for the ability to choose the pace at which the two of you progressed. True to his word, he had not pressed you for an answer to his unusual proposal, and instead let you come to him once you were ready.
And sure enough, a week ago, you had made your way over to the Bridgerton household and asked to speak with Anthony privately. In the quiet of his study, you had accepted his proposal, finally laying to rest your dreams of spending the rest of your life with your best friend. It was a bittersweet moment for you. In a way, you felt relieved that you didn't have to pine after Benedict uselessly anymore, having a solid plan in place now and getting as close to what you wanted out of a marriage as possible, barring the possibility of romantic love. But a louder and more insistent part of you was feeling this loss to the bone. Loss of what you didn't know, since you and Ben had never been romantically involved, nor had you ever expected to marry him. Though you supposed a small part of you always held out some hope that Benedict might feel the same way about you as you did about him. That he also thought about you every night, laying in bed alone and wishing you could be in his arms. That the sketches of you and forehead kisses and endless pages of correspondence and hours spent talking together could mean more than just friendship. But in the end, you knew you had been foolish to think that two decades of friendship could be undone by a half-joking comment asking if he wanted to marry you.
Anthony, for his part, had been delighted, giving you an encouraging smile and a firm squeeze on your shoulder once he heard your final answer. He hadn't expected anything from you, of course, but he was happy that he could provide a solution that would benefit both of you. However, his proposal and your subsequent acceptance created a new challenge. Though you did intend to marry him, this wasn't what was usually considered a 'real' courtship, and you were hesitant to widely announce this fact to the gossip-hungry members of the ton.
"Anthony," you began, taking a seat opposite him. "I think we should discuss how we'll present this to the ton. I don't relish the idea of scandal, and I imagine neither do you."
"Mmm the pesky Lady Whistledown continues her reign of terror," hummed Anthony amusedly, shifting in his seat. "In all honesty, I believe any rumors would more negatively affect you, given the nature of our respective positions in society. I also know this is probably a more delicate situation for you than it is for me, so I'd be happy to go along with whatever you would like," said Anthony, sending you a sympathetic smile at the unspoken mention of Benedict.
Clearing your throat and ignoring the tightness in your chest, you pushed through your hurt. "Well, I think the most obvious question is of who we should tell. About the terms of our partnership, that is," you said, putting your hand on your chin and dreading the headache this whole ordeal would be. "I fear my mother might slit your throat and mine were she to find out that I am purposefully giving up on the possibility of a love match, especially after she told me repeatedly there's no rush," you said, looking up at Anthony with an apology in your eyes.
But he shook his head in response, "That's no bother, it is to be expected. I'm slightly scared my mother would react the same." You let out a snort at the thought of Anthony, at thirty years old, still scared of his mother. He rolled his eyes at you, knowing exactly why you were laughing at him, and continued speaking. "Regardless, I don't think we should tell anyone. We can be vague about our intentions and the specifics of our courtship until I propose publicly."
You nodded, trying to plan out that far ahead and feeling your heart speed up when you thought of Anthony on one knee proposing in front of other people. A real proposal this time. "Perhaps a month will be enough time? For it to be believable that we fell in love. That seems like a reasonable timeline, right?" you asked him, trying to imagine how long it might take you to fall in love with someone. Thinking back on your friendship with Benedict, you could recognize that you had been in love with him for years now, even if you didn't know it at the time. But you didn't have twenty years to fall in love with someone else, so a month with Anthony would have to do.
"Considering we've known each other two decades, I'm sure the ton would believe we were in love if we married tomorrow. It's our families we have to convince," Anthony reminded you. Because we all know you and Benedict are in love, he thought.
You nodded, thinking through all of your family members and their possible reactions to finding out you were marrying Anthony Bridgerton, of all people. If anything, they would probably expect Benedict to be the one to propose, no matter how absurd and impossible the idea was to you now. But this only made it more crucial that your courtship with Anthony was believable.
"I don't think we'll be able to convince Alex after the night we had in your study," you said finally. "Besides, it might be beneficial to have someone else on our side helping convince our families."
Although he seemed unsure, Anthony eventually conceded, letting out a grunt. "I'm inclined to agree. I could tell him later tonight at White's," he suggested. "We were planning on going with Colin and the twins but I'm sure I'll get a moment alone with him. It will probably be best to tell him earlier rather than later if I don't want a black eye," he joked, winking at you.
"Thank you," you answered gratefully. You weren't quite sure how Alexander would react to the news, knowing that you had just had your heart broken by Benedict and were now jumping into a partnership with his older brother, so you were happy Anthony offered to tell him instead of facing him yourself.
"So, how should we start courting?" you asked. "Well, not actually courting, but you know what I mean," you quickly corrected yourself.
Anthony smiled softly at you, understanding your need to specify that this wasn't a real courtship. Unlike you, he wasn't deeply in love with his best friend, so it was much easier for him to start pursuing someone, however real or fake it might be. But he knew that, at some level, you felt like you were betraying Benedict. Or at least betraying the feelings you had for him. At that moment, Anthony truly wished that Benedict would stop being a complete idiot. If not for Ben's own sake then to stop the absolute torment he saw in your eyes every time you thought of a future without your best friend.
"Ah, yes, our incredibly cunning ruse," Anthony responded, trying to keep his tone light. "I think we could probably start with a promenade a few days from now if you are amenable. It might be good to start with something a bit more casual," he said carefully.
"That's a good idea," you agreed. "Perhaps two days from now? It will give Alex enough time to digest the idea and I can mention to my mother that you asked if I wanted to get back into the social scene after such a long hiatus. I'm sure she'll be ecstatic enough to ignore the minor details."
Anthony nodded, already planning his speech to your older brother. "I can also start making off-handed comments around my family to really sell it," he suggested.
"Oh, that's perfect! I think we might just pull it off," you said, smiling at Anthony and feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.
But Anthony could not relax yet. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, knowing you needed to address the issue of Benedict but also understanding that it was a relatively painful topic at the moment. After shifting in his seat slightly and receiving a quizzical look from you, he finally spoke up. "How would you like to tell Benedict?" he asked delicately.
You winced at the mention of his name. You had no idea, to be honest. How were you going to tell your best friend that you were marrying his brother? Saying it in person and having to see Benedict's reaction in person would be incredibly painful, but saying it in a letter would be worse, you reasoned. Especially since you had avoided any mention of potential suitors in your correspondence thus far, and were planning on continuing to do so. The letters exchanged between you were too precious, too intimate, to be ruined by the mention of one of your suitors. You stared at Anthony, resigned. "It would probably be better coming from me, wouldn't it?"
Anthony gave you a sympathetic smile. "I'm not trying to get out of doing it, I know this will be one of the most difficult parts. But I believe it'll be better if he hears this from you. He would be crushed if he found out you were getting married from anyone other than you."
You sat back in your seat, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what was to come. If Ben reacted negatively to your relationship with Anthony, you might never see him again. You were desperate to make the blow as soft as possible and preserve as much of your friendship with Ben as you could. "I suppose you're right. I want to tell him in person, though," you said, nervously playing with your fingers. You felt thick tears in your eyes at the realization that if Benedict were here right now, he would be the one rubbing your hand with his thumb as he usually did when you were anxious.
Sensing your inner conflict, Anthony jumped to provide you with a solution. "If you want our courtship to last for a month, that aligns almost perfectly with our country house party in Kent. It would make sense for Benedict to come to Aubrey Hall for the party anyway, and you could have some time alone with him to tell him."
You nodded, quickly blinking the tears from your eyes. It was a perfect plan, indeed. Everything fit together perfectly, you realized with a sinking feeling. You were still half-hoping that there would be a reason you couldn't go through with this, or a massive oversight as to why the plan wouldn't work. But it seemed to be foolproof. Even the painful bits were accounted for and Anthony had made them to be as painless as possible.
And so began the biggest deceit of your life. All things considered, it was good fun. You and Anthony had decided to see each other four times per week, attending a minimum of two balls together and promenading once. Although it had only been a week, you found yourself enjoying the change of pace. You could now attend balls without having to interact with any desperate bachelors vying for your hefty dowry. What's more, Anthony had been bringing you a bouquet after every ball, which served to placate your mother above all else.
Even promenading with Anthony was enjoyable, seeing as the two of you understood each other quite well. It was nothing compared to how deeply Benedict understood you, or how engaging discussions were with him, but Anthony was miles ahead of anyone besides Ben. After only a week of courting, you found yourself better able to think about Benedict without dissolving into a puddle of tears, desperately wondering whether or not he was thinking of you while in the countryside. Your letters to him became less painful and more frequent, as you were able to push through your debilitating love for him and just enjoy speaking about art and literature.
As time went on, you were growing more and more confident that you had made the right decision, especially now that Lady Whistledown had written about your courtship, as Hyacinth had so kindly informed you. Whistledown's words were gospel to the people of polite society, so her mention of the two of you helped cement the validity of your budding relationship. Hopefully both your families would follow the rest of the ton and accept that Anthony, and not Benedict, was the one you were spending the majority of your time with now.
Although you had hoped Alex would help you in this endeavor, he had been unyieldingly silent on the matter. The day after Anthony explained your plan to him at White's, he came into your room and informed you that he knew what you and Anthony were doing. You had expected him to show at least some form of emotion, but he had simply said that he would not stand in your way and walked right out without any further discussion. Even now, a week later, he refused to talk about it with you, immediately changing the subject or just outright leaving the room when the matter of you and Anthony came up in conversation. You were disappointed, feeling like you were living a lie in and out of your home, but you supposed it was for the best. You could sacrifice talking to someone who knew the whole story for the assurance that none of your family would find out the truth. Especially not your mother.
---
As you looked out of your window to the beautiful grounds of Aubrey Hall, your mind couldn't help but drift to Benedict's latest letter. His reply had been short, which was to be expected given that you had asked him to return from the countryside to meet your future husband. Writing the letter had been almost physically painful, but you knew it was necessary. You could only hope that the tears on the paper were not too noticeable once they reached Ben.
After nearly a month of faking a courtship with Anthony, you were much more well-adjusted when it came to talking and thinking about Benedict. But a month was nowhere near long enough to quell the now all-encompassing love you had spent years growing. You didn't think you could ever stop loving Benedict, not entirely anyway. He was your Benedict, and he would be forever. You had grown up so intertwined in one another that he was as much a part of you as you were yourself. The love you felt for him was not a feeling, exactly, but more of a part of your identity. And it was all good and fun until you had to give that up to be with someone else. Though Anthony, bless him, was making it as easy for you as he could. He expected nothing more than what you were willing to give, and you couldn't thank him enough. It had been surprisingly easy to fall into a partnership with him, not feeling the undue stress of having to promptly get over Benedict that you had felt with all of your other suitors.
Your thoughts were interrupted as Theo and Bastian knocked on your door, barging in when you opened the door just a fraction. They ignored your exasperated sigh, opting instead to sit on your bed. Seeing Bastian's shoe-clad feet on your white bedding incited an anger in you that only your brothers knew how to elicit. But your murderous intentions were cut short by Theo's question.
"So, will Benedict be joining us?"
Your heart skipped a beat as you gazed from one twin to the other, trying to gauge the intention of their question. Seeing your anxious eyes, Theo rushed to explain. "We only wanted to check because... you know... yeah," he finished lamely.
"Because what?" you demanded, slightly put off by what they were implying. Thus far, your family had abstained from mentioning Benedict when speaking about your courtship with Anthony. Although they had been visibly shocked by the idea at first, they had now grown used to seeing you with Anthony instead of Benedict and it had become somewhat of the norm. Except perhaps for Cass, who was still young and a hopeful romantic. You knew she secretly still wished that Ben would return from the countryside in some kind of grand romantic gesture that would sweep you off your feet. Unfortunately, you simply couldn't afford to think that way for your sanity. Instead, you ignored her sad looks whenever Anthony sent you a particularly large bouquet of roses. So it came as a little bit of a shock that Theo and Bastian were being so forthright about the subject, showing little to no tact in handling what was a very painful situation for you.
You saw your brothers exchange a panicked look, clearly not expecting your bristling tone. "Because we haven't seen him in a while!" blurted out Bastian.
"Yes, exactly," said Theo, nodding aggressively. "It's just been some time since we last saw Benedict and we're wondering whether you knew if he'll be coming. So we can see him and all. Is he doing alright?"
You sniffed, crossing your arms stiffly and uttering a curt reply, "I see. Well, yes. He will be coming. He should be arriving in a few hours. And yes, he's alright. He's been faring quite well but I think he's coming back to town properly now."
Catching the wide-eyed look they exchanged, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. "And yes! He knows I've been courting someone, which I know was your next question. Though he doesn't know it's Anthony so don't you dare tell him. I will tell him myself once he arrives," you warned them.
"Wouldn't dream of it," assured Theo.
"Sorry about that. Let us know if you need anything," added Bastian.
You hummed. "Thank you very much. Now please get your dirty shoes off my bed or I'm afraid I will have to kill you. And we wouldn't want to make Mother sad over the death of two of her sons, would we?
They stood up off suddenly your bed and straightened up, clearly not having expected this to be such a hostile conversation. But they were glad you had at least cracked a joke, even if the comment threatened their untimely death. They laughed nervously and bid their goodbyes, exiting your room quickly.
A deep sigh escaped your lips as you closed the door after them, placing your forehead against the cool wood. You had most likely overreacted, but you would have to apologize another time. The sinking feeling of anxiety in your stomach took precedence over your brothers right now, as much as it was inconvenient for them.
The earlier flutters in your stomach had turned into giant somersaults, and you felt like you were going to be positively sick. You would have to tell Benedict that you were engaged to Anthony soon since you knew it would be unimaginably cruel to let Ben learn about your courtship to his brother as he was proposing to you.
The easiest thing would be to tell him during one of your nature walks. Whenever you were at Aubrey Hall, you and Benedict went on nature walks around the grounds, where you would often point out familiar flower and plant species, and he would remind you to take in the beautiful landscape. These walks could often last for hours, just the two of you wrapped up in each other's presence. And although it was usually Ben who suggested them, you had planned to ask him on a nature walk tomorrow morning to break the news that Anthony was the man you intended to marry. It would give him ample time and space to process the information, and some precious privacy to sort out any unresolved feelings on both sides.
Yet, the meticulously thought-out plan you had come up with did absolutely nothing to soothe your fears for the actual moment that you would tell him. In all honesty, you had no idea how Benedict would react. You weren't even sure how you wanted him to react. You supposed the best-case scenario would be if he calmly listened and said he understood your choice, and perhaps even thought it a good idea since you would be able to remain close to him. But you couldn't help a very tiny part of you that had previously been locked in the depths of your brain from hoping that Benedict wouldn't react calmly. That he would be impossibly angry. Angry with you, and with Anthony, and with himself. So angry that maybe he would realize that he did love you, after all, however unrealistic that might be.
With a determined exhale, you pushed yourself off the door and started getting ready to go downstairs to Anthony's study. The twins' unexpected inquiry had thrown you off balance, but you couldn't afford to let it linger in your thoughts. Anthony had asked you to stop by once you arrived at Aubrey Hall to iron out the details of his proposal. In less than a week, he would officially be your fiancé, and you had to start figuring out how it would actually happen.
---
As Benedict rode through the picturesque countryside toward Aubrey Hall, the weight of the impending conversation with you settled in his chest. The familiar scenes outside the carriage window, once a source of solace, now seemed to blur as his mind whirred with conflicting emotions. The letter you had sent him requesting his presence at Aubrey Hall so he could meet your future husband lay heavily in his pocket. Ben could barely breathe from the weight of the knowledge that you were so close to being out of his grasp forever.
Reading that letter for the first time had evoked a sharp pain in his chest that he couldn't shake even now, almost a week later. Benedict was beyond nervous to meet whoever you might be marrying, unsure if he would be able to successfully hide his overpowering love for you. However, he couldn't seem to forget the faint tear stains slightly smudging your handwriting of the letter in his pocket. A selfish part of him wished that you might be sad to be marrying this mystery man. That you had settled for someone less worthy and Ben could continue to be confident (if you could call what he was feeling right now confidence) in his decision to forgo a marriage with you. But this fleeting hope was immediately replaced with guilt. You deserved more than an unhappy marriage, even if it meant embracing a future that felt like a cruel twist of fate for Benedict's own heart. Despite the agonizing ache he was feeling, he knew would do this again ten times over if it guaranteed your happiness.
Arriving at Aubrey Hall, Ben dismissed the carriage with a nod of thanks to the driver. With his belongings in tow, he decided to stop by Anthony's study first. His older brother had surely already met your suitor and could perhaps offer some insight so Benedict wasn't entirely blindsided when you officially introduced him.
As Ben approached the door, he caught the sound of your voice, a sweet sound that made him smile wider than he had since he left you. He couldn't help but linger for a moment, enchanted by the familiarity of your tone and wishing he hadn't spent so long away from it.
But his attention sharpened as he overheard your conversation with Anthony. "I think it might be best if it's not a massive surprise to our families, especially Hyacinth. So, would you want to announce our engagement before everyone gets here? Sometime in the coming days? And then you can propose to me properly once all the guests arrive?" he heard you speak.
Benedict's world ground to a halt. The words hung in the air, a revelation that left him stunned. He went numb, pure anger coursing through his veins as he burst open the door and barged into his older brother's study. His eyes, aggressively narrowed into slits, fell on his best friend, sitting at his brother's desk as Anthony leaned against it. Time froze as you and Anthony turned towards him, expressions of shock clear on your faces.
"I beg your pardon?" he spoke, tone low and venomous as he breathed heavily. "What the bloody hell did you just say?"
—
A/N: just wanted to say thank you everyone so much for reading ahhhh I'm so happy to see all of your reactions after every part and I just LOVE YOU okay kisses bye
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Alright friends I’m back with a small and quick buddie language analysis based off all that content we got for the 100 episodes celebration!!!
First of all, I can’t even get into body language without speaking about their outfit choices. On the same day we have their costume designer talk about how everything is thought out, how she meets with the directors/producers to make sure everything is right we have a sneak peek on what appears to be Buck and Eddie’s wedding outfits for Maddie and Chim’s wedding. Why is this a big deal?!? Because they are literally complimenting each other almost as if it’s meant to be viewed that they’re together as a unit. Now maybe it can be a family unit and not necessarily a couple type thing. Regardless, light pink and mint green are very complimentary and work well together. Upon some research, I found that pink tends to balance out the color green. The color pink will typically soften the color green whereas green will keep the pink color more grounded and leveled with the earth. Think of a strawberry where it grows from the green leaves and blooms into a beautiful red or pink shade!
Anyways it’s certainly a fucking choice that now we have confirmation that their costumes are always intentional, we have a glimpse into both gentlemen matching at what seems to be Buck’s sisters wedding. If that’s not meant to be obvious or a statement, then what is the reason? Especially knowing Eddie has never worn pink a single episode we’ve seen him in. He usually wears the earthy tones and Buck is the one who wears the fun colors including pink. So this role reversal is intentional but I also think it’s because Eddie is finally stepping out of his comfort zone and trying new things but Buck is still there to balance him out with his familiar earthy tones. They simply compliment each other well.
Now when it comes to body language, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Oliver and Ryan have such raw natural chemistry that really shines on screen. Clearly they’ve been filming a lot together because they’re slowly morphing into the same person. In many videos we have seen thus far, they are mirroring one another so seamlessly. That’s because their bodies have become so familiar with one another that it naturally mimics one another.
Take this video for example. They both go in and take a bite at the same time. They’re not even looking at each other but their bodies are in sync with one another.
Then we have another video where both men tilt their head and look left at the same time. It happens so naturally, almost as if there’s a mirror there and you’re seeing the same reflection. It’s ridiculous how in tune they are.
Then we have the level of closeness and lack of personal space. Oliver usually tends to keep his arms straight out and never really puts his hand around anyone when taking pictures. He clearly feels comfortable enough with Ryan to put his arm and hand around him for the photos they were taking. Also, Ryan is leaning in towards Oliver in the first photo which can be a direct result of how comfortable they are to be around each other, taking up the same space.
Do not even get me started on whatever this is. Clearly they didn’t know their picture was being taken while they were having their little talk. But this reminds me of all of Aisha’s lives where they were in their own little bubble talking as if they’re the only two people in the room. Same goes here. This is clearly two people who are so fucking comfortable in each others’ orbits and tend to tune out everyone and everything around them when they’re together. They exude such natural chemistry that it’s so palpable in pictures such as candids like this one. This tells me that it’s very likely a lot of their scenes have been together, which would explain why real life starts mimicking what happens on screen. 
All in all what I’m trying to say is something is definitely different about these two this season. I know I’ve said it in the past but you don’t just look this comfortable and attached with just a random coworker or a friend. These are two people that have grown closer whether it’s on screen or maybe in real life with their friendship. All I’m saying is that something has shifted and it’s so obvious with just how naturally in sync they are with each other, how easily they touch one another and lean into the others touch. Something definitely has shifted or is on the cusp of shifting and I for one am excited to see. Excited to see why these choices on their wedding attire were made. Excited to see the trajectory of their on screen relationship. Excited to see how they’re going to strengthen Buck and Eddie and excited to see if they do in fact plan on planting those seeds for Buddie to bloom come next season.
#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#ryan guzman#oliver stark#911 spoilers#buddie language#body language#911 on abc#buddie meta#I’m back at it
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