#return to the gathering place of the waters
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Cool girl
ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two
Two (three) can play at that game.
"When you're done being a brat, call us."
You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.
And you're very much done with them.
Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.
The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.
Fuck them.
You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.
And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.
Of course, he's happy to teach you.
You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.
He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.
But not tonight.
"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.
You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."
"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.
"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.
"Sure thing."
You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.
The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.
You don't need to look, to know.
You can feel them.
Apparently, so can your date.
"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.
"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.
After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.
"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.
With blood. Broken bones. And tears.
"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.
After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...
they deserve it. They deserve worse.
"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.
The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.
"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.
"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.
"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"
"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.
"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."
"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."
"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."
"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.
"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"
"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.
"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.
Fear strikes, and turns you cold.
"D-don't." You try to implore.
"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.
"Leave him alone." You plead.
"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."
"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.
"Simon, please. He's not-"
"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."
"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.
He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."
When they both turn back...
you burst into tears.
#lmaoooo#peaches writes#ghoap x reader#its a milkmaid dress for sure#simon riley x reader#john mactavish x reader#unedited
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Insert Your Name: Side Story 1
Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader
Link to series masterlist!
Notes and TW: First side story is Jade's perspective of when they first met. This one mentions extortion. Please enjoy!
Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi
Jade honestly didn’t think humans were all that. Certainly, they had a fascinating physiology and diverse cultures that were completely different from his own. Their behaviours were fun to observe from a good distance away, camouflaged among the blue-green waves. But his interest was like that of a researcher studying rats in a lab.
Stupid land-dwellers, he jeered at them in his head. They wouldn’t last a second in the sea. In the deep, they’d be rent from limb to limb, outsmarted and outmaneuvered by us merfolk in every way. No matter how his interest grew, it always stemmed from a place where he considered himself superior to them.
Even when the waves tossed him onto dry sand, he considered himself superior to the group of human boys that gathered in curiosity. So what if he couldn’t move? That was only because he didn’t have legs. If he had legs—no. Better yet, if they were all in the sea, he’d be the one laughing. He’d make them all beg.
When that human child came and chased them all away, he looked at you in contempt. So what if you made those human boys cry and bleed? So could he. If only they were in reach. You probably felt that he was indebted to you for that. As if! How could he be indebted to a human for doing something he was perfectly capable of accomplishing himself? You were just an inferior human. If he dragged you beneath the waves, even you’d fall under his claws and razor-sharp teeth. Or you’d asphyxiate in a slow stream of bubbles. Or you’d crumble up like the soda cans he’s seen littered on the beach under the weight of tonnes of water.
Bottom line was: he didn’t owe a weak, inferior human like you anything.
Despite that, he thanked you. Politeness was a mask and being underestimated was his armour. He only needed your help to return to the sea, and then he’d once again be superior to you in every single way.
But what was this? You had the arrogance to demand money from him. This was not a uniquely human trait—he’d seen merfolk pander to his parents as well—but the way you said those words utterly infuriated him. A measly human child looking down at him, physically and metaphorically, with indifferent eyes. He wouldn’t accept it.
Just as he made an excuse to refuse your demand, you snatched something from him. The sturgeon scales. The ones he won with his brother. Something like that—a physical representation of his bond with Floyd—the reward he gained from fighting alongside his twin—the symbol of good luck under the sea—
How dare you steal that from him.
“Give that back. You will regret it if you do not.”
He vaguely registered his claws digging into the sand, his teeth baring in the way he knew would intimidate the fish and merchildren back in the deep. If it could scare sea-dwellers, a human would cower at the sight. They don’t even have sharp spines to defend themselves.
Still, your eyes remained indifferent. As if he was barely even on your radar. Him! Jade Leech, known for his unsettling schemes and fearsome fighting skills! Future heir to the Leech Mafia! Clearly, you had no idea who he was on top of being an idiot. If you knew and had a modicum of sense, you would’ve been shaking in your shoes.
“What is this?”
You didn’t even know what sturgeon scales were. What a fool indeed. Anger surged through his body. But he didn’t throw a tantrum. That was Floyd’s way of expressing anger, and he isn’t Floyd. He’s Jade Leech, and Jade Leech hides behind a mask of politeness until the day he enacts revenge. Besides, he still needed your help getting back in the water.
Despite his praiseworthy restraint, you extorted him. You didn’t know your place. He decided, then. Without a shadow of a doubt, he’d make sure to ruin you.
His luck couldn’t be any worse. Floyd saw the whole thing transpire and teased him all the way home. He was already irritable, and now he had to put up with being mocked by his own mirror image. It was fine. He could bear it. His top priority wasn’t Floyd’s taunts, but rather what he’d tell his parents. One hundred thaumarks was hardly anything to bat an eye at for his family. For a middle-schooler, though, it was quite the sum. He’d need to fabricate an innocent, plausible story that would convince his parents to at least lend him the money—
“Mama! You wouldn’t believe what happened today. Jade got extorted by some human runt. Wasn’t even as tall as our tails are long!”
Floyd and his big mouth. Jade glared daggers as his twin cheerfully regaled their mother with the riveting tale of his blunder. He had to salvage this situation somehow.
“Hm, what are you talking about?” He consciously relaxed his shoulders and fixed his face into a pleasant smile. “There’s no need to lie to our mother. The two of us didn’t see a single human today—”
“Oooh, you’re embarrassed!” Floyd swam circles above his head. “Hah, look atcha pretendin’ nothin’ happened!”
In the end, he couldn’t fool his mother. He wasn’t sure how she’d react. Would she scold him? He was the victim in this situation. Following that logic, his mother should’ve been on his side and punished that human, right?
She did neither. Instead, she smiled and patted his hair.
“Jade, my sweet. We all get careless sometimes, and these things happen. It isn’t your fault.” Gentle eyes, smile as sweet as honey. For a split second, he thought she’d take care of it for him. He should’ve known better. “But it’s your responsibility to fix it for slipping up in the first place. Give it your best.”
She had no intention of helping him. His father would not step in, either. That was the way their household operated—losses of any kind were handled by the person who caused the loss, regardless of reasons or circumstances. Though young, he was not exempt from those rules. His parents spoiled him and Floyd, but there were certain areas where they were strict and refused to budge. He would have to learn to solve his own problems. Under the sea, waiting for help was not always an option—his parents made sure to make that clear to him.
Even so, Jade wasn’t worried. He had no shortage of blackmail against his peers. You weren’t the only person who knew how extortion worked. By that very evening, he had already collected the required amount. The only assistance he got from his parents was when he handed his father a bag full of coins and received a hundred-thaumark bill in return. As he anchored himself by twisting his tail around the leg of his father’s desk, he watched his father count the loose change and wondered how he’d make you cry. It would have to be a long operation. He’d first have to gain your trust, build it up for ages, then shatter it when you were as close as possible . . . .
“Good effort, Jade.” Mr. Leech patted his head and put the change away. “Passing marks for your quick solution.”
He blinked. “Only passing?”
“Yes. Why do you think that is?”
So his solution wasn’t perfect. He mulled it over, frowning into his hand. The goal was to accrue one hundred thaumarks, and he hit that goal without much trouble. What more was there to consider? Perhaps the issue was that he created a sense of animosity and resentment against him, which jeopardized his usual attempts at staying unnoticed. But that was easily solved by instilling fear into the ones he extorted. Besides, he didn’t mind if a few people hated him.
“I can’t think of a reason.”
“That’s alright. You’re still young, after all. I’ll tell you.” Mr. Leech’s eyes curved into a smile. “The problem with your method is that it isn’t sustainable.”
Those words bothered him all through the night until the next day, when he returned to that shore to meet you. Floyd tagged along, chattering away, but Jade only answered with absent hums and affirmations. Why would his method need to be sustainable? This was a one-time payment. Going forward, he’d someday put you in his debt. He didn’t have any intention of giving you anymore money, even if he’d earn it back.
That was, until he hoisted himself up on the rocks on the beach and the money exchanged hands. He wonders to this day if you remember the way you looked when you crouched by the shore. You must have tumbled into a bush or gotten into another fight, one that you’d long forgotten. Your socks had picked up burs, your sweater scuffed, a branch sticking out of a hole in the shoulder. Even surrounded by the early spring snow, the broken branch sported fresh budding leaves. The glimpse into foliage beyond what he could see from his usual haunt in the waves captivated him.
You stared at the bill in your hand and mumbled something about needing more money for your mother’s medication. At that moment, he understood why his father emphasized sustainability. He boldly suggested that he’d pay you to bring him interesting souvenirs from land. For that, he’d need a steady source of income. He’d think about that later. His ultimate goal for all this was to make you cry, after all, and get some fun items from land as a bonus.
What he didn’t expect was to grow so fond of you that he’d no longer mind being in your debt forever.
#twisted wonderland#disney twst#jade leech#twst jade#twst x reader#twst fanfic#jade leech x reader#mafia au
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Rise : Chapter Fifteen
A Rafe Cameron Series
[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]
WC: 4.7k
Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics
CHAPTER FOURTEEN | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IMPORTANT NOTE* hey ya'll! just a reminder that my requests are OPEN. please read this POST before making any requests as i have rules in place. there are four spots left (which you will see at the bottom of the linked post). so get your requests in if you're wanting to use me;p
You taught yourself to not wish for the obvious in the end of times. You stopped wondering what ever happened to your parents, your friends, your neighbors. You quit hoping that someway, somehow, the world would heal itself & you would find yourself & millions of others back to some semblance of a normal life. But most off all, you didn’t dream about waking up from this nightmare. It was real. It was happening. And all you could do was run with it. But what you would spend your time wishing for is that time would move faster.
The last week dragged by miserably. Though you were glad to have your own secure role in the group, it was oftentimes lonely. Those who scavenged were gone for days at a time, & those who didn’t worked together day-in & day-out. You were the only one who had this small corner of the building to yourself, & others rarely came to visit. One visitor you could always count on though was Rafe.
Though you were still wary of him, of the truths he told you, you still welcomed his presence. It was your only real human connection in the midst of all the bullshit. But your relationship with Rafe was beginning to bother you.
It wasn’t until a couple days ago when you were heading to the mess hall to get your lunch that you heard voices talking carelessly about you. The mess hall was large, where people sat to eat at the other end of it, but voices carried, & the voices that day were as clear as glass.
Your assimilation to the group was being mocked. They welcomed you, at first. But that was only when you were working alongside them. Now, the others were beginning to resent you. You heard as such before entering the mess hall, pausing outside the door to listen.
“Everyone knows that manning a radio is easy work. Boring, but easy.” One voice began. From what little interaction you had with the others, you thought it to be Enzo.
“Don’t forget useless.” Another pointed out & the others chuckled at that.
“Seriously. She doesn’t help at all. Rafe giving her that role was stupid, in my opinion. I mean, he told us when we got here that they were on the radio for days, only hearing recycled announcements. No one else is out there.”
You frowned at that but you knew it to be true.
“He just puts her there to keep an eye on her. He’ll bitch at us about pulling our weight but god forbid if he gives his whore a task worth doing.”
Your heart slammed in your chest at the insult. These people weren’t your friends, but they were supposed to be your community. Now, every smile they gave you felt forced. Every greeting was just a means to keep the peace. They didn’t care about you, they thought so little of you. But perhaps they were right.
Squaring your shoulders, you entered the mess hall, & the voices quieted instantly. But they played it off well.
Maddy elongated her neck, spotting you over Enzo’s shoulder, “Hey, _____.”
You waved a hand but said nothing in return. You gathered some food on your plate & got yourself a cup of water before leaving. You didn’t miss the judgmental scoffs as you did,
“Guess she’s too good for us now.” They all laughed.
Back down in the office, you threw your plate onto the desk, some food falling off. You weren’t hungry, but you couldn’t show weakness in front of them. You didn’t need friends. But the thought saddened you. Only a few months ago you had nine of them. But the world took the lives of half of them & the remaining few had little to say to you. Even Bear.
You thought a lot about Bear. You’d often catch him watching you with a concerned expression. It wasn’t filled with annoyance or resentment like the others. But you rarely had time to speak to him. Rafe was always nearby to interject, send Bear to do a task or find some reason to talk to you. Deep down, you knew Bear was your only friend, but you didn’t know how to get alone with him.
Downing your glass of water, you picked at your food mindlessly. The other were right though. After doing comms for a week there was nothing out there, no one. At first, you felt it was an important role & were happy to take it. But now, the others & their whispers were getting to you. You pushed your plate further back on the desk, your appetite lost.
It was midday, the scavengers were expected to return at some point today, as long as everything went according to plan & it usually did. You hoped to sneak some alone time with Bear. And as you thought about it further, Micah, too. Yes, he hated you, that much was clear. His reasoning was ridiculous but you could live with it. However, he was the one who could get you partnered with the scavengers. He had Rafe’s ear. If you got his approval, you didn’t see why it wouldn’t lead to Rafe’s. Scavenging was, after all, a lot more useful than the comms. The others would quit shit talking then.
You were beginning to doze off in your chair, the sound of white noise acting like a lullaby when it began to cackle & pop. You opened your eyes, confused & staring at the radio. It sounded like when you’re on the phone with someone & they forget to hang up, putting their phone in their pocket. All muffled movement. And then…
“Come in, hello.” The voice was clear as day before the radio cackled some more, the signal weak.
You rushed forward, knocking items off the desk in the process. You snatched the walkie connected to the radio.
“Hello, hello.” You spoke back, your heart pounding. As far as you knew, no one had ever made contact with another on this radio.
The radio continued to produce only white noise, but just underneath it all, you could make out the muffle of the voice.
“We—” more white noise.
“I’m here!” You gasped, grateful to hear others. But with the connection so weak you were fearful you wouldn’t get a location of where they were at.
“Our connection is weak.” You shared, hoping they could at least hear you better than you them, “Where are you?”
More muffling. More pops.
The voice responded but it was too static to make out, the interference strong. You gripped the talkie tighter.
Then, one word made it through.
“—of Rockingham.”
Dropping the walkie, you rolled your chair over to the back wall were a map of North Carolina was pinned, the edges fraying.
Your eyes rapidly moved over the map. Rockingham. Rockingham.
There!
It was 60 miles south of Asheboro, a feasible hour drive. You returned to the desk, your voice frantic with excitement as you spoke into the walkie.
“Where in Rockingham?”
The radio only responded with white noise. You asked the question again.
No. You couldn’t lose them. This was the first sign of life.
“Hello, I’m losing you.” You shared. But there was no response.
The radio only returned with it’s usual white noise. You tossed the walkie down in frustration. You had lost them. But it wasn’t all said & done quite yet. Glancing over your shoulder, you eyed Rockingham on the map. The voice had said ‘of Rockingham’. That left a lot to consider. East of Rockingham? West? And if so, how far in either direction? What was their nearest landmark? Or did they mean the Walmart of Rockingham? The precinct? The possibilities were endless. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
But it was something. The first something any of the group had had in weeks. You wouldn’t be useless. And more so, you could be the one to find them. You only needed to get Micah & Rafe on board.
Rafe joined you in time for when the scavengers returned. He still wouldn’t trust you alone with them. It aggravated you, but you couldn’t let it show. You needed him to think you were trustworthy.
As Matt & Robbie passed off boxes & bags of what they found off to Micah & Bear, you & Rafe were in charge of bringing the goods inside. But shortly after you started, Adrianna appeared.
“Rafe.” She stood in the doorway, her eyes hard, “We need you upstairs. Got a problem.”
Rafe sighed heavily, “Can it wait? We just got started.”
“I guess.” She shrugged, “I’ll just tell the others I won’t know how long till the water’s back on.”
“Shit.” He groaned. It had been a nice surprise to learn that the Mill still had running water. But if they water supply was giving grief, it’d only be a matter of time before a domino effect happened.
Rafe turned to you, “Keep bringing stuff in, alright?”
“Yeah, alright.” You nodded. Rafe stepped forward, his hand on your shoulder as he leaned forward to leave a kiss on your temple. You forced a small smile up at him.
Once Rafe & Adrianna were gone, you went back outside. This was your moment. You had to get Bear alone. You couldn’t trust Rafe with the information about the others. Not yet.
Micah spotted you first, his expression always one of irritability.
“Where the fuck is Rafe?”
You nodded back towards the building, “Had other priorities.”
“Fuckin’ of course.” Micah mumbled.
On the ground was a pile of goods. But you wouldn’t be able to carry them all yourself. At the risk of appearing weak, you got Micah’s attention.
“I’m gonna need help with these.” You gestured to the goods at your feet, “Bear can help me.”
Micah glared at you, his eyes narrowed. But he ultimately shook his head, “Whatever, just make it fuckin’ fast.”
Bear stepped away from the other side of Micah, helping you to gather what you could carry. He followed after you as you led him back towards the building. Once you were far enough away, you kept your voice hush.
“Bear.” You began, “I heard people on the radio.”
Bear looked at you with wide eyes as he glanced over his shoulder in Micah & the other’s direction.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” You whispered excitedly. Inside, you felt safer to speak louder. “They’re in Rockingham. Or near it. I’m not sure. The connection was weak.”
Bear frowned but nodded. You two took your time putting the goods away.
“We can go.” You told him, “Find them.”
But Bear slowly shook his head, “That’s not a good idea.”
Now, it was your turn to frown, “Why not?”
Bear sighed, looking you deep in the eyes, “Because Rafe’ll kill them.”
You returned his stare, “I wasn’t talking about Rafe…”
It was then that Bear seemed to understand what you were saying.
“You think we should leave?”
“Yes.” You nodded, checking the window to make sure Micah & the others were still far away. “You & me, we’ll go. Leave here. Join others.”
“I’m not against that, but…why?”
“Because Rafe told me how he runs things. How he’s killed people. And I feel like he’s not telling me the whole truth.”
“What has he told you?” Bear squinted his eyes.
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t trust him. And he doesn’t trust us, that much is clear. So, I say we make a run for it. Head to Rockingham, see if we can’t find those on the radio. But if anything, at least were gone from here.”
Bear leaned against the wall, contemplating your words. He nodded.
“That’ll be tough, ya know. Getting out of here. Rafe keeps it tight.”
“But you know how he runs things. I don’t. We’ll work together & get out.”
He stared hard at the ground, “Are you sure, _____? Because if he finds out what we’re planning, there’s no saying what he’ll do.”
“I know.” You nodded in agreement, “But I’ll feel safer out there with you then with all of them in here.”
“Alright.” Bear stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest, “We’ll do it. But we’ll need a solid plan. No fucking up.”
“I know.”
“Hey!” You both jumped as Micah suddenly appeared. His flashed between the two of you. “The fuck is taking so long?”
“Sorry.” You mumbled.
“Get back out there.” Micah growled. Bear gave you a look, one that said you two would talk later, before leaving the room. You were about to follow behind him when Micah stepped in your way.
“What the hell were you two just talking about?”
You eyed him innocently, shaking your head, “Nothing. Bitching, really.”
“Yeah? About what?” Micah narrowed his eyes, his favorite look to give you.
“Just life.” You gave a half-hearted smile.
Micah leaned forward then, his voice low, “At least you have one.”
The threatening undertone was there. He leaned back, meeting your eyes, “I’d be grateful.”
“Of course.” Your voice was barely audible. Micah stared at you for a moment longer before finally stepping to the side to allow you to pass.
You rushed forward, your heart thrumming inside your ribcage. Back outside you resumed loading goods inside but Micah was keeping a close eye on the two of you. It felt like you were back in school after having gotten caught passing notes in class. You were a bad seed. Micah wanted to rip your roots out.
You were alone, finishing the final bit of unloading when Bear appeared. It was quick, but to the point.
“He heard us.” Bear began, referencing Micah, “We leave tonight. Meet me in the back alley. There’s a hole in the wall near the room where Rafe kept me. Don’t bring anything with you, it’ll draw his attention.”
“What?” There was no plan. It would be too dangerous, “But we—”
“We go or we suffer.” Bear interjected. He was about to leave, in a hurry to not be spotted by Micah but you grabbed his arm.
“When tonight?”
Bear sniffed, “It’s gonna rain. You can see it in the clouds. When you hear the first thunderclap, go. I’ll set a distraction.”
You nodded. Then he was gone.
You swallowed a lump that was growing in your throat. This was really happening. You & Bear would be leaving. Your hands shook as you put items from the scavenging away.
“What’s got you spooked?” You jumped slightly at Rafe’s voice behind you.
Spinning around, you shook your head, “You were right about Micah.”
Rafe’s eyes hardened at that, “What’d he do?”
“Nothing.” You replied breathlessly, “Just scared me is all.”
It was true, but it would also track if Rafe confronted him. He’d be focused on Micah, not you. And that’s what you needed.
“What’d he do, _____?” He grabbed your elbow gently, but was firm in making you look at him.
“Just said I should be grateful I have a life.” You mustered a smile, “See? So, nothing bad.”
Rafe looked away, his eyes wide with fury, “Go upstairs. You’re done for the day. I’ll talk to Micah.”
“Okay.” You went to move past him but he was still holding you.
“I’d never let him hurt you, you know that, right?”
“I do.”
Rafe nodded then brought you closer. His mouth found yours, his lips warm. You forced yourself to return the kiss. At least you had him in your favor, & you’d be damned if you didn’t take advantage of it.
“Go, I’ll see you in a bit.”
With that, you parted from Rafe & walked away, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before you were released from him for good.
It was dark out. Heavy clouds rolled in & you sat in anticipation on your shared bed with Rafe. He had been gone for a couple hours. You had yet to see him, or Bear even. Your mind was racing at what was about to unfold. Bear said to wait for the first thunderclap, that he would set a distraction. But what kind? You sincerely hoped that with no planning, you would succeed in getting out.
About twenty minutes later, Rafe finally appeared. He came into the room looking exhausted. You sat up in bed.
“You okay?”
He peered at you, giving you a half-smile before nodding, “Yeah, people are just dumbasses, ya know.”
“Mmm.” You replied wordlessly.
He approached you on the bed, crawling up it until he was beside you. You allowed yourself to relax as he brought you into his arms.
“I talked to Micah.”
That made your heart stop. If Micah did hear like Bear said so, what would he have told Rafe? You were no friend of Micah’s, he would have no reason to protect you.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, told him he better quit with the passive aggressive threats or it’ll be his life he’s gotta worry about.”
You gulped. You didn’t want Micah dead. But it would be better him than you.
“What else did he say?”
Rafe sighed heavily, “Just bitched a lot. Nothing for you to worry about. He’ll come around. One day.”
You hoped you would be long gone if that day ever came.
Rafe slipped a hand under your arm, maneuvering you until you were situated atop him, straddling his hips. You didn’t like the positioning.
His hands rubbed up & down your exposed thighs as he stared up at you. Your own hands were mindlessly placed on his stomach.
“What?” You huffed out, giving an awkward smile.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” He asked. Shit. Micah did hear something.
“No.” You frowned, “Why?”
“Like I told you before, some people want to drive us apart.”
You needed him to trust you, to believe you would never betray him. If only for a little while longer.
“They can’t keep us apart.” You told him, feeling brave enough to lean forward, “We belong together, remember? You told me that.”
You ran your fingers along his jawline before threading them through his hair.
“Yeah.”
But he didn’t look entirely convinced. So, you took it one step further.
Rafe sighed into your mouth as you kissed him, his hands gripping your thighs. You opened your eyes enough to see that his were closed. He was licked & nipped at your lips, hoping for entrance. You obliged. As his tongue massaged your own, you were suddenly flipped onto your back. Rafe grinded his hips into yours & a pulse shot up your spine.
It felt wrong. All of it. You unlatched your mouth from his but he continued to kiss your jaw, neck, & shoulder as his hands slipped under your oversized t-shirt. You fluttered your eyes closed, trying to calm your heavy breathing. Rafe would view it as euphoria coming over you, but it was dread.
He leaned upwards to rip of his own t-shirt before returning his body to yours. He cupped your cheek, making you look at him before he returned to kissing you. Bile rose in your throat but you forced yourself to keep it down.
Rafe’s hands found the underside of your breasts, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. You gasped into the kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. He dragged his hips against yours, his evident arousal hitting your center nearly perfectly. You moaned reluctantly. But he took it as a means to go further.
Before you could resist, Rafe lifted your top, removing it effectively from your body. You instinctively covered your exposed breasts but Rafe frowned, gently grabbing your wrists, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Your mind was racing, desperately searching for the memories that would back up his claims. But nothing turned up. Rafe kissed down your neck to the valley between your breasts. Your skin erupted with goosebumps as his mouth hovered over a pert nipple. When his tongue grazed over it, your body pushed up into his touch.
“God, I’ve missed this.” He shared breathlessly.
Words failed you, but your body was beginning to respond to his touch. His other hand reached below graze the edge of your underwear.
No. No, no, no.
Tears pricked your eyes. Please.
A clap thunder boomed above, practically shaking the building. You yelped from the loud sound & Rafe’s teeth accidentally nipping your sensitive flesh.
“Shh, calm down.” Rafe grinned, “It’s only a storm.”
It was more than that, though. It was your time to go.
“Rafe.” You pushed backwards, out of his arms, resting against the wall, “I’m not ready.”
“What?” His hooded, heated gaze shifted into one of frustration, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry. It’s not gonna happen overnight.”
“It’s been more than a night, it’s been a goddamn week!” He raised his voice, making you jump more than the thunder had.
You stared at him wide-eyed, “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He growled, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do anything. I can do all the work.”
“What?” The fuck was he getting at?
Rafe harshly gripped your ankle, dragging you back down the bed, “Nothing I haven’t done already.”
“Rafe, no!” But he wasn’t listening. He was quick to snatch both your wrists in one hand, holding them above your head as his other hand reached for the button on his jeans.
You shook violently beneath, trying to throw him off you with your hips but he was bigger than you, stronger, & quite literally, had the upper hand.
“After everything I’ve done for you!” Rafe hollered as he moved to rip your underwear off, “This is the least you can do for me.”
A cry tore from your throat as you lied bare before Rafe, your imprisoner.
But just as he was shoving his jeans down his thighs, a sudden boom sounded, shaking the building. But this wasn’t thunder.
“What the fuck was that?” Rafe mindlessly let go of your wrists, listening as you both heard panicked screams in the distance.
“Rafe!” It was Adrianna in the hallway. “Rafe, hurry!”
“Fuck!” He shouted, shoving himself off the bed, “Fuck, fuck!”
Hurriedly dressing, Rafe had seemingly forgotten about you on the bed. You took the opportunity to search desperately for your clothes. You managed to get your underwear & t-shirt back on before Rafe focused his attention on you again.
“You.” He pointed, “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
You said nothing, your body shaking after what he was just about to do to you.
“And when I come back,” He approached you, snatching your chin in his hand, “I’ll finish what you started.”
Tears skipped down your cheeks, your chin quaking in his hold. You ripped your head away from him, but nodded. He didn’t need to know that you wouldn’t be here when he returned.
Adrianna burst into the room then, her eyes briefly flashing to yours, taking in your state of dress before frowning slightly. Then she looked at Rafe, “There’s a fire out front, I think someone exploded your truck.”
“Goddamnit! Let’s go.” Tossing you a look of warning, Rafe finally disappeared with Adrianna, the door slamming shut behind him. But then you heard the grinding pop of metal.
Did he…?
Racing forward, you tugged on the door. It wouldn’t budge.
“No!” You banged on the door, pulling uselessly on it, hoping it would give. But it was locked securely.
“Fuck.” You breathed out. Running to the dresser, you quickly slipped into a pair of jeans before throwing a pair of boots on. You grabbed a jacket folded over the back of a chair & slung an empty backpack over your arms. You couldn’t just sit here & wait. You still had to try.
Another clap of thunder boomed above followed by the sound of heavy rain pelting against the windows. Rushing to windows, you cranked one open, the metal rusting as you did. You groaned painfully as you mustered all your strength to get it all the way open. Rain pelted you in the face, quickly soaking your hair as you leaned out. Rafe’s room faced the back alley where Bear would be.
Leaning out, your looked up & down the alley but it was difficult to make anything out. It was too dark, rain was getting in your eyes, your hair was whipping you in the face.
“Bear!” You screamed but you knew it wouldn’t carry against the rage of the storm.
But then, at the mouth of the alleyway, you saw a figure. Bear. He was too far away to hear you.
“Fuck, Bear!” You yelled again, but no luck. He wasn’t even looking in your direction.
Panicking, you begun to look for anything outside the window you could use to scale down on. But there was nothing, no piping, no grips in the brick that would make getting down easier, no fire escape. Besides, in the chaos of the storm you’d likely fall anyway. But perhaps that’s what you had to do to get away.
You peered down in the dark. It was only two stories. But it wasn’t the typical two stories. The walls were taller here. You’d at least have to jump two & a half to get down. But you had to. Without giving yourself to think on it, you gripped the center of the window, carefully leveraging yourself to swing your legs out.
“Bear!” You screamed once more, hoping he would hear you. But as you peered through the darkness you watched as he took off around the corner. Away from the mill. He had waited for you. He couldn’t wait any longer, Rafe & the others would find him & kill him. You had to be quick if you were going to catch up to him.
Breathing fast, you felt yourself stiffen, you needed to jump. Now! Before Rafe came back, before Bear was in the wind. Jump, _____! Jump! NOW!
A scream ripped from your throat as you launched yourself out the window. The ground came fast, too fast, & you hit it, landing on your feet, but your ankles gave out & you collapsed to the ground.
“Ahh, fuuuuck!” You screeched, reaching down to hold your ankles. They were pulsing. But you had to go. Heaving yourself up, you tested your ankles. They were sore, tender, likely having twisted them, but you couldn’t let that stop you. Limping, you began to move as fast as you could toward the end of the alley where you had last seen Bear.
Please, don’t be far.
You continued hobbling, desperate to get as far away as possible before Rafe discovered you were gone. You had just made it to the mouth of the alleyway, looking in the direction that Bear took off it. It was towards the woods. You had to get there fast.
But just as you started limping in that direction, voices sounded behind you. The loudest was Micah’s. And it was growing closer. There was a few dumpsters to your left & you were quick to dive in between them, desperately hoping that the darkness would shield you from murderous intent.
You tugged your legs to your chest, pressing yourself as much as you could against the brick. Micah’s voice was getting closer. Another voice joined his. Rafe’s.
The storm continued to boom & flash & whip about, making it difficult for you to hear as their footfalls grew closer. And by the time you could, it was already too late.
A bright light blinded you, forcing you to whine as you shieled your eyes from the flashlight.
An impressed whistle came from behind the flashlight, “Well, look what I found.”
The flashlight lowered & Micah stood before you, a deadly grin on his face.
“I told you, man. Her & Bear were up to no good.”
Rafe appeared then as he spotted you. The heavy rain had his hair stuck to his forehead. Another clap of thunder sounded followed by a bolt of lightning that lit up the alleyway. In that brief moment, you saw the look in Rafe’s eyes. And the wrath you saw there rivaled the storm.
This was it for you. That much you accepted quickly. But you hoped Bear got away. But hope, as you knew, was a silly thing to cling to.
alright, the second to last plot turn Rise will take before finishing strong.
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#dark!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron x reader#dark!fic#dark!fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfiction#outer banks fanfiction#non con fic#dark!outer banks#rise chapter fifteen
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The Text (OK Titles Aren’t Our Strength)
by @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant and @abstractfrog
“Case?”
Sherlock was still texting and hadn’t touched the tea he had asked for moments before. The shade was exactly right—John had made sure of it— and there were two-and-one-half teaspoonfuls of sugar, just the way he liked it. Sherlock had taken a sip only to replace it upon the side table and text some more. No signs of anything off with it, but he had kept right on texting and let it go cold. He wouldn’t want it now.
He also hadn’t touched the filtered water kept perpetually cold in the fridge. This evening’s penne…still consumed, but not enjoyed; there was a difference, and John knew it by now. Sherlock was in the initial stages of a right strop. Still eating, so nothing too pressing, but the potential was there for things to go downhill rather quickly, and John hadn’t a clue why.
And all this texting.
Pushing his fingers against the screen far harder than necessary, leaving a quiet little thud, accompanied by the occasional look of annoyance the likes of which he hadn’t seen since that woman…what was her name?…the other podcaster…wasn’t Baker… Barker! Since that Barker woman had neglected to call the police. Someone was causing Sherlock a great deal of frustration.
Or was John causing the frustration? By hovering. He’d been hovering, he knew it. Because Sherlock had been doing nothing but sitting on the sofa, texting.
“Sherlock? Mate?” The words sounded awkward as ever, perhaps even more hollow and artificial this time. Increasingly so lately, though he wasn’t quite sure why.
“Mmm?”
“Case?”
Sherlock turned back to his phone again, not responding, then abruptly rolled toward John and said, “No.” And that was it. No more information than that.
And now John’s head was spinning. Something was very wrong. John had felt it too. Since that whole thing with Silver Blaze something was in the air, unspoken. Getting shot at was bad enough, but the thing that had really caught him off guard was the thoughts he struggled to keep out of his head, and indeed other parts of his body, when Sherlock had asked him to get on his knees. He had carefully shoved it aside. Examining what that was all about could wait, though he suspected he would soon need to deal with why even the most innocent gestures were being taken out of context by his affection-starved brain. Right now, something was up. Up with Sherlock. And this person on the other end of the phone. And he needed to know what it was. Not idle curiosity. Full-out need.
“Fine. Don’t tell me who you have been texting for the past ten minutes…”
“Eight-and-a-half.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me who you have been texting for the past eight-and-a-half minutes. Tea’s gone cold. I’ll make more.” He headed toward the sofa to clear the mug, and maybe, just maybe, to catch a glimpse of that mobile screen as he did so. Not intentionally, of course. Just…accidentally. Accidentally, as he gathered up the mug to make another cup.
“Don’t want another.”
John grabbed a book at random from the shelf, plopped down in his armchair, and started reading. It was one of the Discworld ones. His mum had told him it didn’t really matter which he started with, just to start already, and it almost diverted his attention until he felt that invisible pull of a pair of eyes on you—a sort of soldier’s instinct he was glad he had still retained. PTSD had its benefits. He looked up over the top of the book just fast enough to see the slightest remnant of motion on Sherlock's part. He had been watching him.
“Yes. The tea has indeed gone cold, and perhaps I would like some after all. I’ll make it. Would you like one as well?” Sherlock was already on his feet.
”Yeah, sure.”
He headed to the kitchen.
Leaving the mobile on the table.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text. He placed his finger where the bottom corner of the phone had been so it could be returned to its original location and scrolled with his thumb.
I can stop by yours.
This was blue. The other person. His eyes moved automatically to the top of the screen searching for a name, but it was just the number. John tried to memorize it, though he knew it was no use. He just wasn’t good at things like that. He chunked it into three parts and decided to try anyway. Maybe he could manage to write it down quickly.
No, it’s always better if I come to you.
That was Sherlock. Going to him. Or her. Or whoever. …Again? Sherlock had said ‘always’.
Oh. So he doesn’t know? Hiding me again, are you?
I’m not hiding anything. I’m simply choosing not to bring it up.
A kettle whistled and that was that. John put the phone down, then lifted it again and wiped it on his shirt. Leave no prints. He ran to the chair and picked up the book. He even skipped a few pages, just in case Sherlock could somehow tell John hadn’t been reading while he was gone. He wouldn’t put it past him to somehow know what page number he’d been on at a glance.
Sherlock returned carrying two mugs and picked up his phone rather unceremoniously and began texting again. He did not look at the number of pages John had turned in his book. He did not look at John at all. Then he got up—still holding his phone, put on his coat, and left.
Without a word.
Without even a sip of his tea.
John ran to their small rolltop desk which Carol had found at an antique shop in Camden Town, ripped a sheet of paper off the notepad, leaned it against the wall and wrote down what he thought was the number, to the best of his recollection. He didn’t want to leave an impression on the paper beneath. He paced for a while before he shoved it in his pants pocket. What good would it do to call? It wasn’t like it was a business. What did he expect? ‘Hello, friendly neighbourhood drug dealer speaking, how can I help you today?’ It wasn’t that though. At least he didn’t think so. Sherlock didn’t seem bored, he seemed restless. Like he was working through something and hadn’t come upon an answer yet. That wasn’t when he reached for the Oxy. It was usually when he reached for John. For his opinions, that is…not…not reached for him in any…physical sense.
He pictured the words in his mind. Read them over and over. What stood out were two words: ‘always’ and ‘again’. It was a friendly conversation. The type between people perfectly at ease with each other. And the only person he knew of who Sherlock had that degree of ease with was Victor Trevor. Could he have come back? Could he be joking with Sherlock about hiding his return from John? About having hid their friendship earlier by never mentioning him, even once in passing? If that was all it was. A friendship. No, of course that was what it was. Victor was his friend. Just like John was his friend. To assume it was more than that was stupid. Being friends, being roommates, with someone who happened to be gay didn’t mean anything. Or with someone who was…not-exactly-quite gay. Like... Well, it didn’t mean anything. Didn’t mean anything at all.
Fuck.
So, he finally read it?
Yes, he did. After an eternity. When can I go back? This feels awkward.
The deceit?
Yes.
Good. He needs time to think it over. Alone.
Just like he needed time to decide to read the texts.
You didn’t watch him while he did it, did you? From the kitchen?
No, I couldn’t risk letting him see me. I did listen to you. This time.
The phone was smudged when I left and clean when I came back.
He’s a good man, Sherlock. It took him a long time to invade your privacy.
Shut up.
I’m completely sincere. He’s a good man.
He cares about you.
And…?
And don’t mess it up. There. I said it.
Happy?
You had to say it sometime. Might as well get it over with.
I’ll try not to.
Now, go back and tell him about me. Explain how I provide you with excellent advice on cases and…other issues of concern.
You’re absolutely certain about this?
He won’t think any less of you for needing occasional advice. Your reputation won’t suffer.
Remember, he has been wondering if he will lose you, so show him he won’t.
Bring him round tomorrow. Don’t hide things from him again, including your feelings, Sherlock. Including your feelings.
Keep him informed of everything and it will all work out. I guarantee it.
So. Would you really have come to mine?
And leave home? Of course not.
Thank you, Mycroft.
You’re welcome.
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Ode to Milwaukee
I want nothing
but the empty street
and the wind
between buildings,
high rise lofts
& cattle lines
of twee women
at the doorway
to that club down
on third street
that everybody hates
but they still make enough
money to keep
their doors open
for a while, it looked bleak
for all of us.
I want to go back
to the Sydney HIH
building
or the razed tanneries
that flanked the river.
I want to eat
at the closed restaurants
my grandparents loved
before steakhouses
grew windows in their
secret dining rooms.
I want to be blue
in a red state
and be red with anger
at the dismal array of
segregated
neighborhoods,
blunt racism that
nobody talks
enough about,
the city feels its weight,
while the people wait
quietly for something
to change and know—
to have hope
is to have lost.
I want to know everything
and fear nothing
in the gathering place,
by the water, watching
ships come in,
busses ship out, train
tracks barren outside
of Walker's Point,
take a dining car from tavern
to tavern, or out of town—
the beginning and the
end of the rust belt
is here.
—Sam Pekarske, from Return to the Gathering Place of the Waters (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2017)
#poetry#sam pekarske#milwaukee#the rust belt#ode#return to the gathering place of the waters#vegetarian alcoholic press#typography#this fucking poem
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— ALL GROWN UP
pairings: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
summary: you were always tigris's annoying rich friend to coriolanus, but once he returns from 12 you seem to be irresistible, not only to him.
warnings: normal coryo in all honesty, jealousy, flirting, p in v, oral (m), choking, kinda subby coryo - for a bit, time gap he spent a year in 12 (i got lazy this is short and basically just porn with slight plot)
a/n: hehehehe first fic of 2024 kiddos besides the klaus one!
your laughter was the last thing coriolanus wanted to hear, ever. it was still annoying when he was here, and it was still once he returned.
"there's no way!" tigris giggled a loud as you joined in.
"tigris?" he called out to her, waiting. "coryo!" tigris yelled as she ran to him, his arms open for her. "it's so good to see you, you’ve been so busy." you laughed, "your hair, it's worse in person." would you shut up? who were you to interrupt a family-
your night dress was black, short, barely below your crotch. lace details, messy hair, you were nothing short a of a dream, and it was messing with his head. he was so use to hating you, your stupid gorgeous face and here he was, dumbstruck. “y/n?” you nodded with a sweet smile, “how are you coriolanus?”
he sighed, “exhausted, between the university and dr gaul, it seems i’m stretched thin these days.” you nodded along, “it seems you’re well on your way to success.” he inhaled, not use to your kind words, “thank you.”
apparently you were staying with the snow’s for a week or so, much to coriolanus’s elation. surprisingly, in the time he’d been away you’d become, tolerable. it sure as hell had nothing to do with the sway in your walk, your sweet eyes looking up at him and your new found confidence, no he just felt nice.
he was itching to get a taste.
he’d seen you out and about, talking with almost all the people around. a kind smile aimed at quite literally everyone. almost every guy in the restaurant seemed to know you, and he couldn’t help but feel annoyed.
didn’t they know you came for lunch with him?
shouldn’t they know better?
you weren’t his, yet.
it was late at night, you needed something to drink.
grandma’ams tea isn’t exactly the most refreshing. you were in the midst of scouring the kitchen for a teabag of actual flavour when you’d heard him behind you.
“looking for this?” he held the jar in his hands, “actually, yes.” you walked over to grab it and he only held it higher, “coryo, please.” he grinned, “coryo huh?” you placed your hands on your hips, annoyed, “yes, now if you don’t mind.” the jar clattered on the counter and you quickly swiped it away. “would you like some?”
in the reflection of the glass cabinet, you saw him shake his head, “i’m in the mood for something else.” you giggled at his vagueness, “oh? and what might that be mr snow?” his smirk was all you needed to know what he was hinting at. “you’re playing a dangerous game here coryo,” he feigned confusion, “am i now?” you smiled, “yes you are.” he was behind you now, breath heavy and hot on your shoulder, “i might be, question is, are you willing to play?”
his lips were on your neck, light as ever, open mouthed kisses all the way up to your cheek. “cory” he gathered your hair, swinging it over your shoulder, “cory? that’s new.” you smiled, “i know. i’m going to take a shower, wanna join? to conserve water of course.” as if they need to, they had more than enough money now.
“to conserve, of course.”
the hot water rose steam, surrounding you as coryo watched from outside. the fog covered up all the parts he wanted to see, and his night pants seemed smaller. soap running all over you, soft hands trailing down. “i think you’ll get a much better view from in here.”
he ripped his clothes off, practically stumbling around in the soft glow of the guest room lamp. he’d been waiting for so long. ten minutes. his hands massaged your scalp, washing it off remaining shampoo and conditioner. ridding your body of any soap, your shoulders, your stomach, your thighs.
and soon enough he pressed you against the wall, imprints of hands staining the glass. you were both unbearably needy, messy kisses and desperate touches. you revelled in his grasp, you felt as if your skin was on fire. “y/n, please.” he whined. you giggled at his begging, “please what coryo?” you stroked his dick as he groaned out, “suck me off. now.” you laughed at his words, “pretty bossy for someone who was whining like a little bitch two seconds ago.” he was about to protest but your warm mouth on him seemed to shut up all forms of protest.
“oh god.” he leaned his head back on the wall as you dug your nails into the back of his thighs. the water pouring down on the two of you made coryo glisten, his abs looking especially sweet. droplets of water fell down from his hair onto you.
as if you weren’t enough the view of you on your knees, your tuts on display was more than enough for him to explode down your throat. “fuck, when did you learn to do this slut? you been practicing f’me?” his attempt at regaining control had you suppressing your laughter.
but his hand in your hair tugging you to your feet, crazy eyes and a very attractive smirk? “only for you cory.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently kissed him, “all for me.”
“please, cory. i need you.” you leaned your head against his as he directed his cock to entrance, teasing you. “you want it?” you nodded your head vehemently, “god just please, fuck me.” he kissed your cheek before pushing in, “anything you say baby.” you moaned out at the feeling of him in you, filling you to the brim. you felt unbearably hot, between the running water and coryo rutting into you it felt like heaven.
you can feel the wetness dripping down your thigh, mixing in with the water, “messy girl, aren’t you?” your hands dug into his shoulders almost painfully, “jump up.” wrapping your legs around of his waist, his hands cupped your ass. his pace is unbelievably brutal, “such a bitch to me, making me look weak.”
you shook your head, “didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to i swear.” you mewl, hot tears streaming down your cheeks, as coryo lets out throaty groans.
“stop crying.”
“i can’t, you feel so good!”
“stop crying or i’m not gonna let you cum.” his hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your airway. the dizziness paired with his thrusts inside of you was absolutely delicious. he let up only to mark you before returning to it.
“not yet," his grip around your throat tightened as coryo continued thrusted into you, obviously chasing his own high. "you'll cum when i do.” please cum. you thought, please please please.
his hips slowed down as he groaned, “fuck, all for me yeah? all grown up, aren’t you baby?” your nails marked up his back as he grunted, the hot water seemed to make the fresh marks hurt all the more. coriolanus loved the stinging, almost as much as he loved your cunt.
“cum, cum for me.” you weren’t sure if your release came before or after, but all you felt was unwavering pleasure and relief. you rested your head in the crook of his neck, you were so exhausted. “you did good, so good y/n.” coryo praised you as he pressed kisses to your forehead.
“let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”
#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x female!reader#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#hunger games x reader#hunger games fic#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus imagine
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Why don't you love me?
Anthony Bridgerton x reader
Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?
(gift is not mine)
It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.
It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.
Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.
This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.
From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.
However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.
She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?
So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?
It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.
"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.
"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.
At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."
The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."
"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"
However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.
"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"
Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."
When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."
"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.
Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.
But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.
One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.
It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.
To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.
Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"
"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.
The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.
On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.
"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.
"What?" he asked, still disoriented.
Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."
Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"
"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"
The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.
Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"
"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.
Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.
"It was silly of me to ask—"
"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."
"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"
"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."
"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.
"No."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.
The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.
Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.
While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.
But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."
"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.
Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.
"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."
The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.
"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."
"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.
"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."
"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."
"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."
Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.
"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."
She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.
"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.
"Lord Bridgerton—"
"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.
"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"
"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."
"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."
"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."
"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.
She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.
Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."
"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."
And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.
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LOST IN THE PADDOCK.
MV1 X FEM!READER
summary getting lost in the paddock and bumping into the current world champion was definitely not on your bingo card.
cw amara is the only oc, no use of y/n. this is my first time writing rpf since middle school, so bear with me. ALSO, this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
face claims girls on pinterest but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want.
masterlist | taglist
—
"Ah, fuck," you mumble to yourself, panickedly walking away from the direction you came from while also looking for your best friend.
You call her name a few times in hopes of her popping her head out of the Ferrari building's corner but to no avail. The group and guides you had been with are nowhere to be found, and you have to avoid bumping into employees wearing the entire rainbow as they hurry around you.
You curse the moment you decided to enter the giveaway for those tickets. Although you weren't a Formula One fan, simply because you never fully listened to Amara's ramblings and analysis, when you stumbled across a giveaway of otherwise very expensive tickets, you didn't hesitate to enter it. Despite entering for her, you kept it a secret. The list of entries was long, and the odds were not in your favour, so you didn't want to get her hopes up. You couldn't contain the bubbling excitement when you got the e-mail verifying your win for two Paddock Club tickets for the Spanish Grand Prix.
After announcing it to your obsessed-with-cars best friend, you decided to make it a five-day trip, planning to sightsee Barcelona before the race weekend and spend a free day after it. The first day had been great, albeit tiring, but you had woken up the next day buzzing with anticipation to walk around the paddock. You were the assigned photographer, as you knew Amara would want to listen to everything the guide said. You were content with taking pictures of the place and her.
Until now. You were definitely not happy with being the camera guy. Because of that, you'd just lost your group in the middle of God-knows-where, with no idea where the building you came from was. So immersed in your grumbling and reading the map on your phone- you collide with someone. Your phone and water bottle slip from your fingers, and the tote bag slips from your shoulder to your elbow. You hiss at the sudden weight shift.
The smell of rich cologne enters your nostrils, but you don't dare look up. Your cheeks burn. "Sorry." You bend down to grab your things.
The man seems to have the same idea, as seconds later, he's on his knees and gathering his things before you can reach them. "No, it's alright! I wasn't looking where I was going."
He extends his full hands with a smile, and you return a sheepish one before grabbing your things. You take a second to look at him. He wears a Red Bull cap and T-shirt, looking like everyone who hurriedly passed you with papers and phones in their hands. I should ask him for directions. He looks like he knows the place.
"Uh...Is there any way you saw a group of people with guides walking around here? I'm supposed to be with them, but I kinda lost them." You lift the camera, further explaining why you're separated from them.
He can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks. "Unfortunately, no," he pauses. "Are you here for the weekend?" You nod. "Haven't they given you a map, then? They usually do, to avoid people getting lost."
You show him your phone. Your fingers brush as he pulls it closer to look at the map. "Yeah, they have. But I can't figure it out. Kind of my first time coming to something like this."
He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the phone. "Really?" He sounds surprised. He shouldn't.
You looked out of place compared to the rich-as-fuck members of your group. You had no idea how people dressed for these occasions. Even Amara didn't really know what to pack, so you both agreed to wear comfortable clothes. With the race being during June and in Spain, you would rather be comfortable than sweaty. The only thing tying you to the group was the Paddock Club pass you wore around your neck.
"My best friend is really into this. Loves the sport. I won us the tickets, but I'm barely grasping the basics." You laugh, and he joins. You like the way his eyes crease when he smiles wide.
"Oh, you're the ones that won the tickets! Someone told me about that, I think. Congrats!" You thank him. "How's your weekend so far?"
You shrug. "T'was really fun. Until I got lost while taking pictures of the Ferrari building." He snorts.
Leaning next to him, you try to follow his finger as he scrolls around the zoomed-in map. "You figured it out yet?"
"I think I have, yeah." He shows you the phone. "We're here. The garages are right there. You'll be watching the race on the floor above them." You nod, slowly grasping your surroundings. Turns out it's easier to figure it out when you're not panicking and a handsome stranger is helping you. "You got it?"
You flash a bright smile. "Yeah, actually, I think I do!" You look at him. "Thank you!"
He shrugs. "No problem. I know it's easy to get lost, especially with so many people running around."
"Still. Thank you. You probably have to be somewhere, and I took up a lot of your time." You step back, turning in the direction he'd shown you.
"Don't worry about it." He fixes his hair under the cap.
"Thanks again." You wave and turn to leave.
"Hey, I forgot to ask you." You turn, confused. "What team are you supporting tomorrow?"
Oh, shit.
It's like a deer caught in headlights situation. You suddenly forget all ten names of the racing teams, desperately racking your brain for an answer. You swear you know all ten.
"Uh..." you nervously clench and unclench your water bottle. "Ferrari?" It's more of a question rather than a statement.
He laughs, and your cheeks return to their warm state. Bad answer?
"Ferrari?" He asks as if saying really? You shrug, and he huffs a laugh.
"I told you I'm not good at this!"
You hear a shout and simultaneously turn to see a man in a Red Bull shirt beckoning him over.
"I have to go. But you should watch out for the Red Bulls. I hear they got the better cars!" He winks and waves before walking away from you.
You roll your eyes and smile wide on your lips. Of course, he'd tell you to cheer for his team. The back of your hand touches your cheek. It's incredibly warm. You blame it on the hot weather.
—
"I'm telling you, mate! She had no idea who I was!"
Lando rolls his eyes. "And I'm telling you there's no way. Your face is plastered everywhere."
It's Charles's turn to roll his eyes. "Or maybe she was more worried about finding a way back than asking for pictures."
"Yeah, maybe she was being polite. Didn't want to attract any attention to you." Albon adds.
Max shrugs. "I don't know."
"Was she pretty?" Oscar elbows Lando's ribs, as the latter can't contain his giggle.
Max's neck flushes. He shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess."
"Ohhhhh!" George and Lando pat him on the back teasingly, and Charles laughs at Max's expression.
Before they can tease him about this mystery girl more, a woman wearing a headset informs them they have to part ways and get ready for qualifying.
—
"And Fernando was so bloody nice, too! He was more than happy to sign the cap for you!" Amara waved her hands excitedly as she recounted everything you missed while lost.
You sat near the windows overlooking the pits, watching as the teams got their cars ready for qualifying, far away from the TVs and the crowded tables, not wanting to converse with anyone but your best friend. You chewed on your extremely expensive pasta, intently listening to her meet-up with some of the drivers.
"I can't believe you met the only driver I know," you whined, lips pouting sadly.
"I swear I didn't realise you were gone until they stopped us to greet the drivers. I was fully into that tyre explanation the guide was giving."
"Gee, thanks." You smile, giving her the middle finger.
"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that. Without you, I wouldn't even be doing the stuff we did today." Amara pulls on your middle finger, and you both giggle.
"So, tell me what you did when you were alone," she urges, sipping her drink.
"You mean when you left me wandering like I was looking for my mother?" She gives you a pointed look. You shrug. "I stopped a Red Bull guy to give me directions. He was helpful and cute. Also took some pictures while I was making my way back here."
"Oh, was he a mechanic or what?"
"I don't know. Didn't catch his name." You smile as you recount his advice. "He told me to look out for the Red Bulls because they have fast cars."
"Well, he's not wrong."
You finish your food and drinks, chatting until qualifying is about to begin. You sit on the balcony, watching the cars drive on the track. You get settled, watching the small screen in front of you, commentary loud in the headset you wear. Qualifying goes by quickly, with Amara explaining things you don't understand and you nodding along.
It's no surprise—in Amara's words—that Max Verstappen came first in his Red Bull. He's the one dominating this season, after all. Second comes Carlos Sainz, and third place takes Lando Norris. Your best friend cheers a little more for him. You shoot her a look, and she just shrugs. "What? He's fast, and he's handsome." You laugh.
You decide to leave before others, not stick around for post-qualifying interviews. Although there's a great chance you can catch drivers, take pictures and get them to sign autographs, you're both far too exhausted to stay. There's always tomorrow, Amara says, and you agree.
You're looking through the Uber app to find a car available to take you back to your hotel when you hear Amara all but screech beside you. You look up, watching as she runs towards a wall decorated with a gigantic poster of three drivers. You recognise Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc and...Oh, shit.
"Can you take a picture here," she calls your name pleadingly.
Your eyes are wide and glued to the tall poster, even as you pull the camera up to your face. You snap a couple of pictures before Amara walks back to you. Her wide smile falters as she watches you stare at the poster intensely. You rack your brain for his name and know that you should know it. Amara has mentioned it before, but you just can't put your finger on it. He's in Red Bull, so it's either Checo Perez or—
"Is that Verstappen?" You point to him.
"Yep. Two-time world champion." Amara looks at the poster and then back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you looking at him like that?"
"He's the guy from earlier."
"What?!"
—
yourusername
liked by amaraiscool, yourmom, and 167 others.
tagged amaraiscool
yourusername chatted with a guy today, turns out he's the current world champion.
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amaraiscool i can't believe you met max verstappen
> yourusername amaraiscool i cant believe you let me get lost
amaraiscool and i can't believe you didnt recognise him.
> yourusername amaraiscool hes cuter in person, too bad you didn't get to see him :))
yourfriend1 THE DRESS IS SO CUTE, AMARA WTF DROP THE STORE!!!!!!
liked by yourusername
yourfriend2 johns freaking out rn lol
> yourusername yourfriend2 AW, i bet hes not being as dramatic as amaraiscool was when i told her :,)
> amaraiscool yourusername met THE max verstappen.
—
"You should totally text him," Amara says between bites.
She offers you a piece of chocolate, and you offer her a bewildered look. The hotel room's TV is playing a random spanish show, but with no subtitles, you can barely grasp what they're saying. Amara is scrolling on TikTok beside you.
"Text who?" You already know who.
"The two-time world champion. Duh." She rolls her eyes.
Amara hadn't stopped talking about the Max interaction since you'd pointed at his gigantic poster. The more she spoke on it, wiggling her eyebrows, the more you blushed. She had gone over a thousand scenarios, all of which you ended up hooking up with him. You had to remind her that despite his popularity, he was a stranger to you.
"I don't have his number, 'mara. I told you he just helped me find my way."
She flicks your forehead. "That's what Insta is for!"
"No."
"But why!?" Amara whines in your ear loudly, like a child when you take their candy away.
"It's weird! He's cute and all," you sit up, pointing your finger up," but he doesn't know my name," you put another one up, "he'll think I'm creepy," you point a third one, "and that is if he sees the requested message."
"Uh, you're ruining my scenario-building process."
"That's what Tumblr is for. Leave my quiet, boring life out of this." You dramatically sigh.
"Isn't that how all fanfiction starts? Boring and quiet life turned upside down?" Amara tilts her head.
"I don't know, 'ave never read any." You shrug, lips pursing.
She huffs a laugh, and you hold in yours. "Liar."
There's a pause. You think over Amara's suggestion. Max Verstappen is cute. And it wouldn't hurt to try and get his number. You'd never see him again after this weekend. And the worst he could say is: "Security, please get her out of here!"
What the fuck am I thinking? He's a literal superstar. Me bumping into him was a one-time thing.
Ah, fuck it. It's not the end of the world.
"You know what?" Amara turns to look at you. "If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll talk to him. Try and get his number."
Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "What?"
"I mean, I'm never seeing again? Right? It could go either way. He doesn't call for security to escort me like I'm crazy fangirl, or he does, and we pray no cameras recorded the moment."
Amara shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but she can barely hold her wide smile. "Sounds like a plan to me."
"Not much of a plan. I'm just indulging in your delusions."
You share a laugh before you fall back in bed beside her. You shuffle closer to your best friend's side, eager to watch the TikTok edit she is staring intensely at.
"Oh, look, it's your future boyfriend!"
"Shut up."
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Young God | Feyd-Rautha
The mercy you show towards an enemy in the aftermath of battle yields tragic consequences for you and your people.
Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen!Reader, Kynes!Reader, Kidnapping, Unrequited Love, Mentions of cannibalism, Knife Play, Masochism
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
The aftermath of battle is often the same ritual. Corpses are taken away to scavenge for bounty and salvage the water in their bodies. Moisture is too precious, too rare in the air and the dry desert sand covering your home world to be wasted. Harkonnen foot soldiers especially. No sympathy is spared for the cruel beasts who slaughter your fellow fremen, ravage your land, and bleed your beloved home planet Arrakis of its most valuable resource. The Spice.
Today is one of these days. After fending off another attack by the Harkonnen army, your entire tribe is sifting through the desert fields. The proud white-skinned soldiers weren’t expecting the swarm of Fremen that unleashed upon them. Thankfully Muad'Dib had a vision of the attack and managed to convince enough of your people to raise their blades in unison to stand against their oppressors. While you balk at violence, preferring to stay back and sink into your role as a healer, you still wish to offer assistance in cleaning up the battlefield and checking for any potential injuries. You were a little shocked when you arrived and were struck with the realization that there is so little for you to do, the number advantage having been so overwhelming.
Still, you find a few warriors that require medical attention. Their injuries are deeper than you expect. Apparently one of the Harkonnen soldiers wouldn’t let himself be slain, unleashing a storm of fury all on his own and taking several down with him. You gingerly finish dressing your last wound, lifting your head as you notice your cousin heading north.
Wiping the blood on your hands with a rag, you get to your feet.
“Chani, where are you going?” you inquire.
She stares ahead, crysknife in hand, determined.
“Some may have survived and slipped away from us. We’re checking the caves nearby.”
You give a nod and follow after her. “I’ll come with you.”
While your voice didn’t waver earlier, your stomach is in knots as you join the search. You and Chani split up. She points in a direction and you acquiesce, rushing the opposite way. You sneak underground, climbing down a row of steep, slippery rocks before you find a small cave.
You practically have to crawl the rest of the way inside, the lichen-draped overhang almost too bent and crooked for you to advance any further. It’s no wonder no one thought to check this place. It’s hard to imagine any wounded Harkonnen soldier gathering the strength to hide in such a place.
You’re forced to swallow your words however when you find the outline of a pale form lying across the cave floor.
Your jaw drops. You inch closer to the corpse, already planning on calling another Fremen to help you extract the water from the body.
But the man’s chest lifts, his mouth shuddering ever-so-slightly.
Tamping down your fear, you hunker down and inspect his armor. Your brows knit. A long, deep jagged cut slashes his side. The kind of deadly injury that makes you wonder how the man is still breathing, as it’s impossible no internal organs haven't at least been nicked.
Yet, somehow he is, still breathing that is.
Though you gather not for long based on the way blood gushes from the wound.
You hear your name called from outside the cave. Pulse soaring, you climb your way out of the concealed shelter with haste.
You’re faced with Chani’s questioning stare. She must be done with her own search. You note the tinge of crimson on the tip of her blade. Your insides wrench.
The lie flows from your tongue with frightening ease.
“I already checked that one. It’s empty.”
She nods and walks away. You wait for her to be at a safe distance to return inside the cave.
As your slow, fearful steps bring you closer to the wounded man, your mind rages, at war with itself.
You are of two worlds. Daughter of the fallen Liet-Kynes, imperial planetologist, and a member of the Sietch Tabr. The Harkonnen are your people’s ancestral enemies. Oppressors who annihilate whoever stands between them and their unquenchable thirst for more wealth and power.
They are monsters. There is only one rational thing to do when one is faced with one of the pale-skinned warriors. Only one thing that is right to do.
You unsheathe the crysknife at your thigh from its scabbard. The blade is shimmery and new. So perfectly sharp. For you have never used it. Not even once.
You approach his unmoving form and lift the blade high in the air.
The crysknife in your hands quivers above his chest. It’d be so easy to end it. So quick. Over within a few minutes. You’ve seen countless members of your sietch do it, not a sliver of hesitation in their smooth, practiced motions. Some even enjoy it, reveling in seeing that spark wither in their enemies’ eyes.
For a moment, you let yourself wonder, picture yourself snugly gripping the blade and driving it through the Harkonnen’s alabaster throat. The watery coughs he’d let out. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling around him. The light in his onyx orbs flickering before going out.
It should satisfy you. After all the evils they’ve inflicted upon your people, upon your planet, the prospect of retribution should fill you with immeasurable joy.
Yet it doesn’t. Chest heaving, you slowly lower the weapon until it slips out of your hands, its clattering echoing in the cave.
Your shoulders sag as you unleash a tremulous breath, one you didn’t notice was even caged inside your lungs.
An unyielding truth swaddles you as you watch your pale-skinned enemy draw feeble, dwindling breaths. You can’t take a life. You are a healer, through and through.
You gasp when you suddenly feel the cold bite of metal against your throat.
Your eyes widen. The Harkonnen is awake, heavy, wheezing breaths bursting from his chest as he presses the blade against your neck.
“I-If you kill me, you will not survive,” you stammer, your chest clenching in fear.
He shocks you by flipping the blade and handing it to you.
“Then give me a warrior’s death,” he says, his gaze unwavering. You study him. He looks worse than before. What he just did must have taken his last bit of strength.
Steadying your hammering heart, you glower at him.
“The glory you seek isn’t in a dank cave, Harkonnen.”
As soon as he collapses over the cold, hard stones, you get to work. First, you check his pulse. Though it’s faint, you find a steady heartbeat. He must be quite strong, you surmise. You’ve never seen anyone survive this long with an injury this deep. Logically, he should be dead.
But he isn’t. So while you shouldn’t feel this way, every fiber of your being craves to pull him from the brink.
You peel the layers of his armor off him. Heat nestles inside your cheeks as your gaze roams over the hard, defined planes of his muscular form. You shake off the sensation, reminding yourself that you can’t proceed unless you have complete access to the wound and need to assess for other potential injuries.
You reach for your medpak and pouch. You use a mix of wound sealant and medicinal herbs to curb the bleeding. You then clean the wound with antiseptic and press onto it firmly. Eventually, it stops. Once the bleeding is under control, you pull out a needle and thread from your pouch and begin sewing the wound. Every stitch is nice and neat, so tight that you know he will barely scar. You squint as you work, the dim lighting of the cave making you miss the right spot in his skin a few times. You keep a cool head the entire time, simply starting over whenever necessary.
After the wound is sealed, you set up a hypovial with a plasma bag. Finding the bulging vein in his arm isn’t too hard. It’s quite easy in fact, as every part of him appears carved from stone. You slip a dash of spice melange in the IV. A potent cinnamon smell fills the air. Just the right amount to keep him awake. Now that his life isn’t on the line anymore, his peculiar body chemistry should do the rest and recover.
You unleash a deep breath and wipe the sweat doting your forehead. You sag against the cave wall.
Your eyes drift to the night sky, visible through a small opening in the overhang.
For the first time since you snuck inside the cave, the tension woven through your limbs comes loose.
Nights on Arrakis are a thing of beauty. You are willing to bet there are no more beautiful skies in the entire galaxy. None so clear and vast and with stars twinkling this bright. Mother used to say the same thing, that the boundless empyreans of Arrakis were the most beautiful sight she ever laid eyes upon. And as an imperial envoy, your mother traveled far across the known universe. So she must have been right.
You cast one last glance at the Harkonnen warrior. He’s stable. Or stable enough at least.
It’s time for you to return to your sietch before too many questions are asked.
“You were gone a while,” your cousin blurts out when you return to your sietch. You weigh her tone. There is no suspicion laced in it, just curiosity.
“I was just making sure we didn’t forget any of them,” you casually reply.
Chani heaves out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to. You have no heart for killing, cousin.” She turns her focus to the rest of your tribe. “We need you here, tending to our wounded. It’s where you shine best.”
You nod in acknowledgement. No one in the sietch ever expected you to fight but you often wish that you could do more. You think of your mother’s untimely death, of the way Fremen laid down their lives today. Your heart sinks. If anyone learned of what you did, you would be exiled. Rightfully so. Your eyes wander to your cousin, now besides Paul Atreides. Longing gazes lock and fingers twine before they disappear into their shared tent. You look away.
You hope one day that twisting inside your chest whenever you see them will cease. You are happy for them; you truly are. Nevermind that you felt a pull towards the heir of House Atreides from the moment you met him, that you felt it was returned when his gaze rested upon you. That all of it vanished the moment his eyes crossed Chani’s.
A seer from your tribe foretold that a woman in your family would have a great destiny, one that will change the fate of worlds. You now understand, that woman is Chani, and she and Paul aren’t just destined to one another. They are fated.
And who are you to stand in the way of fate?
“You must be insane, girl,” the Harkonnen soldier scoffs as you remove the needle in his arm. Since he appears to have regained some color…or whatever consists of “color” for a Harkonnen, you elected to remove the plasma bag this morning.
A sliver of shame flutters through you that you were almost relieved to find him alive. You saved a life. Perhaps not the most worthy one, but a life nonetheless.
“Striking an enemy while he’s down isn’t brave,” you reply with nonchalance.
A crooked smirk cants his plump lips, baring a hint of the black teeth underneath.
“Insane and stupid then,” he sneers, the gristly echo of his voice resonating in the cave.
Ignoring the way his comment chafes you, you retrieve the little vials you packed this morning.
“Drink that.” He sits up, humming low in his throat with the movement when you’d expect him to wince or groan at the pain. It’s almost like he’s enjoying the pain he surely must be experiencing, but you discard that thought, because it’s ludicrous. What kind of person enjoys pain? “It’s water.” He studies you, making no move to grab the water. You fidget, unnerved that you can’t read his expression, his lack of eyebrows making it even more difficult. “I could only steal a little from the deathstill. It’s all I could get before anyone could see me.”
You briefly considered trading your mother’s water rings, the ones you inherited upon her death. The symbol of her standing and wealth within the Sietch Tabr.
Though while you may have saved your enemy, you want to hold on to that piece of her for as long as you can.
“I also have some food.” You rummage through your pouch to pull out dried fruits, slices of meats, bread and spice honey. It’s the best you could gather on short notice without drawing suspicion.
His dark gaze flicks over you as he taunts, “Perhaps I shall eat you. You look far more appetizing than…whatever this is.” You shudder, acutely aware that while cannibalism isn’t widespread amongst the Harkonnen…it’s also not unheard of.
He snickers at your expression. “Do not fret, desert rose.” His gravelly voice drips with suggestion as he licks his lips. A chill runs through you as his black tongue and teeth are bared to you. “I’m not quite that hungry…yet.”
Your shift, discomfort slithering through you. There is something profoundly unsettling about the Harkonnen, even more so than a typical one. The blood leaking through the bandage draws your gaze.
“I should dress your wound and redo the stitching,” you offer, clearing your throat.
When your hand stretches towards his wound, he growls at you.
Your heart leaps and you retreat your hand.
“Please,” you insist. “You’re bleeding.”
When he doesn’t make another threatening sound, you take that as your cue. You quickly gather your supplies and approach him. The drumming of your heart inside your ears is a clamor, but you pretend it isn’t there, removing the bandage and driving the needle through his wound to sew it shut again. He doesn’t flinch, showing no hint of even feeling the needle. His sizzling scrutiny sears through your flesh, almost causing your usually steady hands to quake. You sharpen your focus, remembering your grandmother’s teachings. Steady heart, steady hands.
He tilts his head, dark gaze trained on you. “I threaten to eat you and you tend to me still. What a peculiar creature you are, desert rose.”
The days fly by in a strange haze, your days spent preparing for the new Reverend Mother while you sporadically check on the stranger. He recovers faster than you expect, even without you needing to use the spice melange again. Considering he was at death’s door when you found him, you can’t help but be a little amazed.
You sense the time to go your separate ways is near. You have done a lot, likely more than you should. The alabaster-skinned warrior is well enough to roam the desert and find his way back to his people through his own means. You brought him supplies, food and a stillsuit. Whatever befalls him will be up to fate and his own wits. You don’t plan on returning after tonight.
“You’re looking better,” you note, checking his wound for the last time. You leave the bandage for good measure even if it’s clear he doesn’t need it anymore, the wound having begun to fade since you removed his stitches yesterday.
He pins you with that unsettling stare once more.
“That song you sang…” he rumbles.
“A song?” Your head tilts as you comb through your memories. It comes back to you. You sometimes hum it to yourself. It calms you down. You didn’t even realize you’d done it in his presence. “Ah, that song.” You shrug, a small smile sneaking onto your lips. “It’s just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me before she passed, to teach children about the Shai-Hulud.”
He looks at you in what you believe to be confusion at the name, though you can only assume.
“Your people call them… sandworms,” you explain. “They are sacred and should be revered.”
Silence hangs between you and the Harkonnen. His deep raspy voice shatters it after some time.
“Songs…I had a blade in my hands from the moment I could walk.”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t seem sad, more reflective, but it seems you should say something. “Do you…Do you ever think of what your life would be like if you weren’t Harkonnen?” When he looks at you blankly, a nervous laugh peals from your lips. “I’m sorry. That was a silly question.”
Your crysknife materializes in his hands from behind his back. Your blood runs cold as you pat your thigh. You don’t remember ever leaving it around him.
“My older brother...He took me from our parents when I was a baby,” he utters, sounding detached, almost as if he were recounting someone else’s life. “My uncle raised me. I don’t remember my father. And my mother…” His lightless gaze slams into yours as he smiles, exposing his glistening, black teeth. “I killed that whimpering, meddling bitch.”
Your breath snags in your throat. Perhaps…you let yourself get too comfortable around the Harkonnen. The crude reminder of who he is, who they all are, yanks you back to reality.
You bolt to your feet, coaxing a tremulous smile onto your face.
“It’s getting late. I should return home before the sandstorms grow too strong.”
As you prepare to leave, the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps above you freezes you in your tracks. Your eyes bulge. Dread sinks within you as you realize someone’s right above you.
Before a single sound can make its way past your lips, the Harkonnen’s large hand envelops your mouth. He pulls you flush against his bare chest as he whispers into your ear, “Quiet.”
His muscles go taut against you. You catch him twirling the blade with smooth precision, clearly ready to fight if need be. You hold your breath, bridling your stuttering heartbeats.
Two men in full Harkonnen livery leap inside the cave. Panic rushes through you.
However, instead of a fight breaking out, relief fills the soldier’s faces as they see him.
“Na-baron. We received your beacon.”
Na-Baron…The air is knocked from your lungs. The title isn’t that common amidst the known universe. In fact, it’s quite unique and you only ever heard of one man from one specific house using it. Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the heir-designate to Baron Vladmir Harkonnen.
He is a monster, a ruthless killer…and you nursed him back to health. Allowed him to get well enough to hurt, maim and kill as he pleases. The cave seems to twirl off its axis around you.
Perhaps he was right that night. You might be an insane idiot.
You feel the subtle lift of his lips against your scalp.
“Right. Did I forget to mention my name?” he taunts, as if he could read every thought zooming across your head. Giving you no time to even try to run or fight him off, the na-Baron slams your head against a nearby wall.
Pain explodes inside your skull. Your vision dims as you grow too weak to stand, your knees buckling beneath you. You fall into his arms and he holds you against him. He strokes the side of your face, a fire burning in his onyx orbs. Consciousness slips from you, his last words reverberating inside your ears.
“You and I are going home to Giedi Prime, my desert rose.”
You awake startled, jarred by the softness of the sheets and the largeness of the bed around you. This is nothing like the cot you used to sleep on in the desert. You leap from the bed, clutching your face and hugging your frame, stunned to note you are without your stillsuit and face mask.
Instead, you are wearing a sheer white tunic that hugs your curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. The outfit is unlike you, impractical in every way. Your pulse escalates.
You rush to rise and nearly crash down on the bed again.
Your forehead creases.
You wobble around, struck by the difference in gravitational pull, humidity and atmospheric pressure. Every breath you take exerts you, bearing heavily on your lungs.
Your head spins as you glance at the unfamiliar room. Every single detail of it is cold, somber, opulent.
Horror twists your insides.
You’re not on Arrakis anymore.
“You’re in the Harkonnen keep, darling.”
The gravelly voice erupting at your back has you whirl around. A half-exposed Feyd-Rautha fills your sight, his carved alabaster muscles and bald head shimmering silver in the low light.
You swallow hard, fighting to keep yourself breathing normally in the brand new air.
“The Harkonnen Keep on…”
“Giedi Prime, yes,” Feyd-Rautha finishes.
While you understood it on your own, having it uttered out loud sends you in a renewed state of alarm. You are away from your family, your friends, your home. You are alone on a foreign planet. A hostile, enemy planet.
“In secluded apartments away from my other concubines,” he further informs. A shadow of mirth lurks in his gaze. “They’re quite the jealous kind. They may even try to take a bite out of you if they learn of your existence…” He leers at your shivering frame, making no effort to hide his lust, the evidence already bulging in his pants. “Though I don’t think I could entirely blame them.”
He inches closer to you. “How does the weight of a real planet feel?” he asks, a twisted excitement swaying in his dark orbs. “Is it crushing your bones? Is every cell in your body screaming in pain, my desert rose?” He grips your chin, studying you oddly, almost as if he wishes he could absorb every bit of your agony and discomfort.
You glare up at him, your insides white hot with rage.
“H-How could you do this? I saved you.”
He frames your chin, squeezing tightly. “Oh darling, you should have killed me…” A squeak spills from your throat as he drags his tongue across the side of your quivering cheek. His lips brush over your earshell as he mumbles under his breath. “Because there’s nowhere in the galaxy you will ever be able to hide from me now.”
“I belong in Arrakis with my people. You have to let me go,” you plead.
You search his impassive face, scouring for an errant ounce of humanity. The emptiness you find has tears rushing to your eyes. You mourn the tragic loss of moisture, willing yourself to stop crying. Ever since you were young, you were taught never to waste your precious water...especially on something as trivial, as painfully unnecessary as tears.
...But you can't quell your weeping.
He tilts his head.
“You belong with me…No, to me, desert rose. In my arms, screaming as I ruin that pretty cunt of yours with my cock.”
Fear floods your entire being. Your eyes scan the room. A faint spark of hope blooms inside you as you spot a long, sharp knife on a stone table nearby.
Pushing past the queasiness you experience every time you move on the unfamiliar planet, you race across the room and grab the knife.
You point it at him. Instead of cowering, Feyd-Rautha opens his arms, smirking.
“Do it,” he urges, making no effort to protect himself from the sharp blade in your hand, inviting you to strike him as his tongue darts across his lips.
His uncanny anticipation coats the air. Confusion fills you.
“I will,” you say, trying to appear braver than you feel. Still, the blade quakes in your hand.
“Please. I beg of you,” he purrs, gliding towards you. As he watches you hesitate, he cruelly reminds you, “You will never go home, never see your beloved planet again. In fact,...” He hums, his eyes lighting up as if a wonderful idea just occurred to him. “I think I might slaughter some of your family and friends just for sport.”
A wave of wrath surges through you. Bereft a thought behind it, your hand slashes across his chest, a small cut forming there. Droplets of blood so dark it appears black drip down onto his alabaster flesh.
“More…” he rasps, pleasure leaking from his gravelly voice.
The sight of the bleeding wound rattles you, causing you to retreat.
But he doesn’t let you remove the blade, his fingers cinching around your wrist and keeping its sharp tip over his bulging pec. You sob as he forces you to drag the blade across his chest, a blissful expression spreading across his features. A long dark cut oozing dark red blood decorates his body now, going all the way to his defined abs.
Terror and confusion tangle within you. You stagger backwards, the dagger slipping from your lingers and hitting the floor.
“You’re sick.”
“I didn’t realize there was such a fire inside you, desert rose. If I don’t have you now, I think I’ll go mad.” His hoarse, lewd tone scrapes against your eardrums, causing your insides to twist in dread. He cracks his neck, black tongue sweeping over his lips as he approaches you. “No, I definitely will.”
It’s the only warning you get before he tosses you on the bed and rips the clothes off your frame. Tears brimming your lashes, you squeal in protest, scratching and punching every part of him within reach. You slap him hard and he cackles, baring his black smile in sheer delight.
“Come on, desert rose, I’m sure you can hit even harder,” he sneers.
To make him eat his words, you hit him again. Harder than before. His laugh gets louder as you watch a faint bruise form on his cheek.
Pinning your wrists besides your head, he bends over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipples, his cool tongue causing you to hiss and shake. Sharp teeth graze your breast and the breath hitches in your throat. You squirm on the sheets, completely at the mercy of Feyd-Rautha as he licks, bites and kisses every part of your flesh. As if he wanted you covered in marks of his ownership, wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you were his if they stole a glance at you. You loathe the way your traitorous body writhes and pants, a disgusting dampness gathering at the apex of your thighs.
The tears in your eyes swell. Your body is divorcing your frazzled mind little by little, yielding to his rough, wanton touch.
He grabs your thighs and dips between your legs, diving straight for your center. He licks a long stripe up and down your folds and you tremble. As his devilish tongue swirls around your clit, your eyes flutter, blinding pleasure building in your core. Hot waves of delight engulf you as he gathers your arousal with his tongue and drags it around your tender spot. The slow, unrelenting patterns he traces with his mouth have you fight the urge to buck your hips into his jaw. Your juices drench the entire bottom of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greedily devouring your cunt as if he’ll never get to do it again.
As you quiver against him, your orgasm flowing through you, he chuckles against your wet cunt.
“Your body can’t even deny how much it craves me, desert rose.”
Shame pulses through you with his words.
He crawls over you, cutting his pants loose with one aggressive shove downwards. Only a glimpse of his thick alabaster cock, glazed with his need at the tip appears in your vision before he shoves the entirety of himself in you. The pain is so intense, flames alongside your walls, that it robs the words from your throat. He sinks inside you until his tight balls chafe your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat while the other keeps your wrists above your head.
You whimper beneath him, defenseless against his sharp, piercing thrusts. Pleasure builds within you, his cock overwhelming you with shameful sensations each time it grazes your sensitive places, making you see stars. Gargled sounds pour from your throat as his girth splits you apart.
He grunts as your walls constrict around him, slamming into you even harder.
“You’re so delightfully tight around me, darling.” He bends over you to whisper, “I bet I’ll turn you into my perfect little cock-hungry whore in no time. Have you on your back and knees for me whenever I wish it.”
The Harkonnen heir’s pace fastens, his cock hitting spots that have you question your sanity. So delicious that you can’t help but let pathetic little moans escape from your throat.
He buries himself inside you even deeper, the pain and pleasure blending in crescendo. Your eyes roll back as you near your peak. Meanwhile, Feyd Rautha’s hunting his own release, his quick thrusts growing sharp and slow, his bald head grazing your bare chest.
Pleasure rolls over in a tidal wave, your back curling alongside the sheets. His own release comes after yours, thick ropes of his seeds painting your sore, sensitive walls.
As you crash in a boneless heap on the sheets, he wraps his hand around your jaw and steals your lips for a sloppy, heated kiss.
You cry out in pain as he sinks his teeth into your neck, placing a visible puncture wound that won’t disappear for a while.
Still nestled in your warmth, he scatters more bites along your shoulder.
“Any man would be insane to let you go after tasting such a sweet cunt, desert rose.”
You know he wants you to see, doesn’t want you to miss a single second of the spectacle. It was a split second moment, one that could have easily resulted in his death.
But at the very last second, Feyd-Rautha prevailed and dodged Paul Atreides’ attack. He then proceeded to stab him in the heart in front of his heartbroken mother and your cousin.
You don’t want to believe it. It must be an awful dream, one you will soon wake up from. One that lasted entirely too long. While seeing Paul’s body sink to the floor, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces…Watching Chani glare at you with pure hatred in her eyes from across the room is almost worse. You want to run to her, embrace her, tell her you never meant to leave, tell her you aren’t a traitor to your people despite what clothes you may wear now, what marks may brand your skin.
But it’s all for naught. Paul is dead and with him the hopes for your planet, for your people have died as well.
And you are left with nothing, no one. A stranger in a strange world.
It’s what he reminds you as he has you caged beneath him that night, burying himself inside you again and again with abandon.
“You’re mine, desert rose. And nothing, no one can take you away from me. Not my uncle. Not Paul Atreides. Not the Emperor.” He chuckles darkly, whispering against your ear. “...And not even you, darling.”
He is right. You are his. And with no one to challenge the rule of the now Baron Feyd-Rautha, ruler of House Harkonnen, it is as he said…There is nowhere in the galaxy you can hide where he will not find you.
#feyd rautha#feyd rautha x reader#dune fanfiction#dune part 2#dune#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd-rautha#feyd-rautha harkonnen#dark fic
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"Women only started working very recently so a woman's place is the house-" shut up and feast your eyes at old photos of women from around the world doing physical labor only for them to return home and solely care for 5-10 children and the elderly parents of their husband.
Greek women represent:
These photos show Greek women doing the type of physical labor they would perform more often than not. At the luckiest working conditions for rural women (aka most of the country) they would start working the fields as children and when they got older they would work the same fields with their own babies on their backs.
On the way home from the fields, sometimes the women would carry the wood and the mule would carry the man so he could rest.
Of course, we can talk about the manual labor that is rubbing cloth and metal for hours on end, chopping and carrying wood to light a fire for a large cauldron your size, and stirring it for hours.
But we can also talk about how it wasn't for them to break and carry rocks in baskets for the making of new roads. They would gather salt, olives, and grapes and carry them on large baskets filled to the brim. For salt they carried thirty kilos each trip, doing fifty trips each, stepping shoeless on the grains of salt.
Carrying water was also their job, often moving large barrels with all the water a house of 10 needed upon hills that horses and mules had trouble ascending.
(more photos for salt mining and carrying here)
It's no hyperbole to say these women carried their incomes and households on their backs. "The good she-housekeeper is a slave and a lady" the old Greek saying goes. A "good woman" was a woman who could be strong and work at home and in the field, often described with the qualities of a mule. Men took their wives out in the fields so much that some who were a bit more educated had to make their husbands sign that they wouldn't ask them to work alongside them in the fields! (source in Greek)
Some of these photos are also from 1970. I'm missing a photo from Leukada showing women carrying baskets of the stones they broke, and I'll add it here when I find it.
Basically, women were out of the house forever. A woman who got to stay home and never perform any labor had some type of privilege (wealth, status etc). Same as the many privileged men around the world who didn't perform any labor at all.
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#greek women#greece#greek history#vintage#vintage photo#manual labor#working class#greek people#working class history
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I found one of those things you call a mermaid on the pier the other night. All tied up and thrashing its poor body around like a fish caught in a net.
That image repulsed me. You know I've never been one for fishing. Even catch and release puts me off. I don't like to watch the poor thing slowly suffocating as it waits to be thrown back in, its gills heaving and sputtering for water.
That creature tied up on the pier, the gash of gills on its neck was heaving and sputtering just in that way, dark ocean water flowing out with every failed breath, it really made me sick.
I pulled out my pocket dagger and its attention was on me. Its eyes bulged wide and I wondered if, like a fish, it couldn't blink. The sight of my dagger set it off into another thrashing fit and I tried to calm it down. Poor thing didn't seem to understand a word. It kept opening and closing its faded lips, but nothing came out. Must've spoke some kinda fish language.
I held it firmly in place and slowly brought the dagger to the knots binding its wrists. It calmed down after seeing that I wasn't here to cut its flesh. Or maybe it had just lost all energy from being out of the water too long. Either way, it stayed still as I cut the ropes around its legs.
When it was freed, it just lay there on the pier. So still it might've been dead, other than the weak flapping of the gill at its throat. I needed to get it into the water, and fast.
I lifted it up, one arm under its neck, the other under its knees. Its skin was slightly warm, unlike any fish I'd ever briefly held. But the same clamminess. Warmer than its skin was the water spurting from its gills.
I stepped closer to the edge of the pier and the thrashing returned. It must've known it was going back home, and was getting excited. I took a step back to gather momentum, and pushed forward with all my might, throwing the creature in kicking and flailing.
It hit the water with a splash, and stayed at the surface for a moment. Almost like it was treading water. Must've wanted to say thanks. After a few seconds it slowly sunk down. Back to its home.
I imagined the slit in its neck filling up with ocean water and I could finally breathe easy again. I couldn't get that sick taste out of my mouth for awhile, though. Same sick taste of my first fishing trip.
"Who cut its neck?" I remember asking my mama as the fish struggled in my hand, tail thrashing, scales cold. She told me those were its gills, that's how it breathed. Through the slits in its throat.
"So it's breathing through its neck?"
"No, sweetie. Not now."
I took one last look over the pier into the dark water below, getting darker. That fish is breathing now. It's gotta be.
#my writing#short story#critique and comments welcome :) i havent written much in awhile lol#okay i added a bit what do we think
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My good girl – smut w/Felix. 18+ only mdni
Just sex. I don’t know what to tell you lmao.
“Mmm- I’m gonna cum, baby,” Felix says, scrunching up his face.
You’re next to him on the couch, hand jerking off his thick length desperate to make him cum.
“Oh fuck- I’m cummi-,” he spills his white release into your hand, shooting some on his thigh as he buries his face in your neck.
You continue to pump him gathering his cum all over in your hand, slowly not to overstimulate your boyfriend. You slide your thumb over his tip before you remove your hand completely watching his dick soften. In return Felix let’s out a satisfied hum and presses a gentle kiss to your neck.
You should feel relieved that he was able to cum, but you feel guilty. Unable to say anything or move from his side - just your dirty hand playing by itself while you wait for him to make the next move. He finally lifts his head off of you and pulls you to settle on him as he leans back on couch.
“You comfy?” He asked placing a kiss to your forehead.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t-,” you try to apologise but he cuts you off.
“-You made me cum, baby and a lot too. Look at your pretty little hand,” he reassured you bringing his free hand to grab your wrist as he observes your hand that was covered in his cum.
You felt anxious - hoping your boyfriend didn’t say that just to make you feel better.
Felix knows how inexperienced you are: the past 8 months you’ve been sleeping together he had taught you so much about sex. He explored your kinks, located your g-spot, finding the angles and positions that makes you go a little dumb. He knows how flustered you get when he kisses you in front of his members, how shy you are when you initiate sex, how red you go when you see him without a shirt. So, when he was hard after a make out session on the couch, legs spread looking at you through hooded eyes muttering the words “want your mouth,” he wasn’t surprised or hurt that you shook your head no. With your big doe eyes brimmed with tears, of course.
Felix was fine with you taking your time, he never wanted rush or force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. He also loved having any kind of sex with you- and you guys have a lot of sex too-, so it doesn’t bother him if you only ever given him hand jobs to pleasure him.
“Felix,” you uttered, wanting to continue the conversation.
“Mhmm?”
“I’m sorry I’m not familiar with using my mouth yet,” you confessed.
“It’s okay baby, you don’t have to apologise,” gently brushing his fingers through your hair, looking down at your innocent state, smiling to himself.
“But you always offer me a lot. Your fingers, your thighs, your cock, your mouth, your face,” you start to murmur.
“Yeah, but sex isn’t a thing where you have to give me back what I give you. You have to be comfortable doing it first and if anything, I’m the one who should apologise for bringing it up. I-,” you shut him up with a kiss and he tries to pull back to continue his argument but he gives in.
“No baby, you don’t have to apologise. One day I’ll be confident enough to taste you,” you pull away to give him a shy smile.
“And I’ll wait for that day,” he smiled back at you.
“Why are you so understanding?”
“Because you’re so good to me,” he kissed your forehead.
It all started with his outfit. He had woken you up to kiss you goodbye before him and his members go off to one of their dancer’s wedding. You couldn’t believe it, waking up to the sight of a prince. Felix was dress perfectly in black. He had a dress shirt on with his sleeves pulled up revealing his veiny hands. And fuck, you couldn’t forget about how those tight pants were doing its job – sculpting his toned thighs and of course making your mouth water at the outline of his bulge.
You couldn’t get the image of his veiny hands attached to your hair as he guides himself into your mouth out of your mind. You have have been thinking about finally getting to taste him, finally pleasuring him with your mouth - which was something you know he craved. It got you so needy.
So, when he finally returned home you pulled him into his room and instantly smashed your lips on his. Felix pulls you closer by the waist smirking into the kisses when he hears you start to moan. You continue to devour his lips as you walk him back pushing him down to to the sofa. You immediately straddle him to grind down on him, desperate for some friction. You can feel him start to grow hard underneath you, his dick touching your little bundle of nerve.
“Hi baby,” you broke the kiss to finally talk, and Felix took that as a sign to divert his kisses down your neck. Your hands travel to his belt where you played around with the buckle taking it off. You lift your hips a little looking down to take a peek at how his boner was restricting against his pants. You immediately palm him and feel him twitch making you let out a whimper. God, Y/N, why were you such a slut – his dick is still covered.
“What is it that you want baby? You’re so needy tonight,” He questions, pushing you back down on his lap and halting your movements.
“Hmm?” He looks so fucked out already - his shirt was untucked, cheeks red, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead and his lips swollen from devouring you.
“Come on, tell me,” He brings a hand up to caress your face.
“Umm,” you couldn’t respond just looking down in-between where your bodies are meet again hoping he would get the idea.
“What is it? You want to ride me dry? Or jerk me off?” He taunted smiling at you as he leaned back further onto the couch.
“Mouth..”
“Hm? Want me to eat you out?” Felix loves how vulnerable and speechless you get when you don’t want to admit something. He adores you so much for it, he finds it’s so cute.
“No.”
“Want me to suck your tits baby?” he raised an eyebrow, he really had zero clue.
“I want to suck you off,” you finally admit starting to move your hips on his again as you bite down on your bottom lip.
“Fuck...” he groans, head kicking back. You feel in twitch again under you.
“Please baby..”
“You want to suck me off, baby?” you just nodded. “I need to hear you say it again Y/N.”
“Yes, it’s all I’ve been thinking about all day Lix. When you woke me up this morning and I saw your outfit. You look so sexy in all black and.. and your pants. You left me all needy this morning. I waited all day for you to get back just to suck you off,” you confirmed
“Fuck could have told me before... before you got me all hot. I’m about to cum just listening to this baby,” he shuts his eyes in attempt to stop him for releasing right there and then. You lean forward to press a kiss to his mouth.
“Want to taste you now Lix. Ple-please guide me?” You were getting angsty.
“You’re such a good girl,” he never fails to let you know. “Okay, on your knees”. You get off him, quick to fall on your knees. He strips off his pants in the process leaving him in his shirt and boxer. You come to level with his hard on flickering your eyes up at him before burying your face on his thigh, trying to conceal how hot and flustered you were feeling at the sudden thirst.
“Hey, you’ve seen him so many times, don’t go all shy,” Felix chuckles running his hand through your hair stopping at the back of your head to lift you up so he can get you to look up at him. It was just like how you imagined - his hand in your guiding you - expect your mouth isn’t on him yet.
“It’s okay, I’ll guide you. Do you want to take my boxers off, love? I’m so horny right now, it’s starting to hurt,” his eyes filled with lust.
You nod grabbing the hem of his boxers and shifting them down his legs, he lifts his hips up to help you. You pull them to his thighs and stopped just to gulp at his dick. It was red, you can see the pre-cum leaking already. Felix looked so hot; you couldn’t help but salivate. He chuckles pulling the rest of his boxer off and throwing it to the side then immediately grasping his base making you shuffle closer to him, your hands landing on his thigh. You have always given him hand jobs and you have seen his dick like every single day but something about this is making your heart flutter and you feel like you’re already sick dumb. Classic Y/N 🙄
“Start stroking me like you always do,” and you comply hands wrapping around his thick member as you start stroke him earning moans from your boyfriend.
“You can spit on it,” he orders. You gather your salvia and then then spit it out trailing down your lips and chin before it hits his shaft. It felt kind of dirty to do but Felix loved every seconds of it and this new side of you was riling him up so much. You resume your moments before spreading the salvia around, allowing wet noise to fill his bedroom. Felix bucks up at the wetness and removes your hand away quickly.
“I might finish before you even get to start,” he relaxes for a few seconds then guides your hand to grip his base again.
“Just let it happen baby, don’t force it in your mouth if you don’t want okay?” He brings his tip to your lips, and you lunge forward to place a kiss to it. As he threw his head back and closed his eyes at the contact, you take his head in your mouth and start to swirl your tongue around it. The way he feels on your tongue is something you never felt before. You can’t explain it. He was like squishy yet still so firm. You were already feeling a wave of pleasure rushing through your body.
“Uh, baby, just like that.. it feels so good already,” Felix struggles to speak. Your mouth was so warm and wet, and it felt better than he ever imagined but he needed more. Felix looks into your eyes, and you give him a nod indicating you want more. “Try to breathe through your nose,” He pushes your head down and you took all of him in, gagging when he hits the back of your throat, tears filling up your eyes. It was a new sensation, it felt so intimate. And seeing your boyfriend’s reaction to it made feel so overwhelming. Like you could cum untouched to how his trying to keep it together - him biting down in his bottom lip nearly drawing blood as his brows furrowed.
“God Y/N, that feels so- so good,” Felix moaned before he pulls you back fully, allowing you to catch a breather as he didn’t want you to panicked at the new sensation. He was still so sweet.
“You okay baby?” He asks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear admiring how adorable you were.
“Mhmm, feels good in my mouth baby. I want more.” you smile to reassure him. Before he starts to guide you back, you were already on it, your hands attaching to his dick again. You take his head back in your mouth alternating between swirling your tongue around it and leaving kisses while your hand pumps the rest of his length. You then take him to the back of your throat again and start to gag around him. Felix can feel your throat clench around him and he knows he’s not going to last. He guides your head back and forward - setting the pace as you bob up and down on him.
“That feels.. so good. Keep going,” And god, the gagging and muffled groans coming from you was like music to him. He has never hear you make this kind of noises before and he thought he was going insane turning into a pervert because it was so addictive.
“Uh, fuck.. I’m going to cum Y/N, where.. where can I cum?” He asked ever so politely even though he was struggling to breathe.
Although you and Felix has been together for a while, you had never swallowed his cum let alone ever tasting it. So him asking that made you push forward on to him, squeezing your thighs together. It was so hot imagining the way he gets to shoot his seeds in your mouth. Fuck, you wanted to get off as well, unable to hide your greed for your own pleasure. Indicating that you want him to cum in our mouth, your hands gripped his hip as you deep throat him, nose hitting his pelvic bone.
“I’m cumming,” Felix lets out loud whimper, scrunching up his face as your throat clenches. His hips buckle into you and his hot cum spilled down your throat. The sudden warm feeling in your throat made you roll your eyes up, showing the whites to your boyfriend. As much as Felix wanted to shut his eyes at the feeling of cumming, he couldn’t. He wanted to see your fucked appearance below him - tears running down your face, your cheeks a dark shade of pink, hair sticking to your forehead with a thin layer of sweat. Oh you look so sexy and vulnerable.
“Baby, you’re so hot right now-“ was all he could say as he empty the last of seeds. You swallow everything then pulled off with a pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Felix tastes better than you imagined and quite frankly, you wanted to taste more. Something about the way he was able to cum like this made you feel a sudden urge of confident. You were addicted to this already. Addicted to the way he was so full in your mouth. The way he couldn’t control his breathing. The way he was so vulnerable yet was still about to control you.
“You taste so sweet, Lix.” You confess looking up to smile at him. He can’t help but let out a airy chuckle, you were so cute from this angle. He couldn’t get enough.
“You were so good Y/N. Got such a pretty mouth. You might just got me addicted,” he says. “I think you deserve to be rewarded,” Felix’s thumb caress your lip.
“You were needy all day, waiting for me just to get home. So you can suck me dry. Tell me what you want to do and I’ll do it,” he was ready to return the favour.
“Anything?” You asked and he nodded.
“Can I suck you off again?” You looked up at him with doe eyes. Oh, he loved this new side of you.
“Fuck. You’re such a good girl.”
Um yeah duh.
Okay, sorry to the little followers of this fic. I literally was stuck and had no idea how to continue this fic. 🥲 And then I didn’t save my original ending and it’s doing my head in. ☹️ Guys, anyways I hope you enjoyed this. My box is open for feedback 🫶
🏷️ taglist: @rozaliee @in2heartz @juskz @lixiesundrop @straykeedz
also photo pics cred to xingfulee on twitter 📸
#becomingmina#skz smut#lee felix smut#felix smut#felix hard thoughts#felix hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids smut
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Milk
Milk (Cream)
pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader
word count: 3.3k
warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, fingering, slight orgasm count, oral fixation??, titty sucking (lactation kink), fingering, implied breeding kink?!?
summary: Joel doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done.
author's note: i should be studying for my finals next week but joel miller sucking titties is obviously more important, and i just couldn't help myself! i just had to write it!!! the result? it's hot. maybe too hot - can you handle it? i know i couldn't. xoxo the wordy peach <3
“Only nine weeks left!” Ellie says excitedly, peering at your protruding stomach with wide eyes of wonderment. She can’t wait to meet her little sister or brother, and each week since announcing your pregnancy, Ellie crosses off a week in her little calendar.
Fondly, you smile at her. She’s been your saving grace during this pregnancy - distracting you with every question possible. She even managed to get it out of you when you and Joel convinced the damn thing (“It was that night at the stables, wasn’t it?”)
“Nine weeks,” She repeats with a confident nod; she glances at you, a single eyebrow raised, “Have you looked at the list of names I gave you?”
You let out a chuckle, nodding, “Yes, Ellie - I look at it every night,”
Her eyes widen, “Every night?”
“Every damn night,” Joel grumbles as he walks into the room. He’s exhausted from the extra shifts he’s been putting in because he wants time off for the baby. With tired, bleary eyes, Joel looks at Ellie, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
She glares at him, points directly at your belly, and speaks with conviction, “Well, technically, I am in health class, and if I have to learn about procreation, Joel, I want her to teach me,"
Exasperated, Joel sighs. He shakes his head with frustration, and briefly, you can see the hint of annoyance on his tired face. He looks at Ellie with his eyebrows knitted together - she knows better than to argue with him. She purses her lips into a thin line and begins gathering school supplies. Ellie ignores Joel and starts idly chatting about her day and her plans.
She’s looking forward to the new reading assignment and asking if you’ll help her later with something. You rub your belly and nod, “Of course, Ellie - you know where I’ll be,”
A flicker of concern mixed with panic crosses her face. She glances at you; you know she’s asking if you’ll really be here when she returns. Ellie confirms, a slight wavering in her voice, “You’ll be here, right?”
You feel a pang of empathy for her. The world you live in is uncertain - even here, in Jackson, there’s no guarantee of safety. You understand her fear, and reassuringly, you tell her, “Yes, Ellie - I’ll be home all day,”
She nods, and her shoulder’s visibly relax at your confirmation. But before leaving, Ellie just has to turn to Joel and says, “She isn’t feeling good today, so don’t be a dick - or else I will know, and you’ll have to deal with me,”
As Joel sips his water, Ellie shoots him a stern look. Despite what your partner likes to think, you both know Ellie is in charge. Her gaze holds a silent warning, and you stifle a chuckle, watching as she finally leaves the house. Once the door is closed, silence falls between you and Joel. It’s tense; his eyes penetrate you, noting your skin's paleness and its sickly sheen of sweat. Usually you’re glowing -
“What’s wrong?” Joel asks in that demanding tone of his.
You sigh, shaking your head, “It’s nothing,”
“Babe,” Joel warns, and you hear him shuffling over before the chair next to you pulls out, and he’s sitting there. He places a hand on your thigh and repeats his question more gently this time.
“I’m…” You think about the right words, carefully selecting them, “Uncomfortable,”
Confessing this to your partner is almost embarrassing. Maybe it’s his rough exterior that makes you feel like this. Joel, who is waiting patiently, peers at you. His eyes soften, and he looks at you with such tenderness. You’ve been missing these moments because he’s never home anymore.
He presses, “C’mon, darlin'… tell me what’s wrong,”
Your cheeks flush pink, and after a minute or two, you admit: “My boobs hurt,”
Joel gives you an incredulous look, and his cheeks blush too. His gaze turns to your breasts - even he can’t deny how much they’ve grown in the past few weeks. Joel knows they’re swollen with milk for the incoming baby, but he doesn’t understand how uncomfortable you are. He probably never will because, biologically, he’s a man.
He watches as you reach up, adjusting your tits, groaning out a slew of complaints: “My nipples are so fucking sensitive and hard all the goddamn time! I feel like I’m in that stupid Austin Power movie with the fembots and their machine gun titties,” Joel knows the movie you are referring to, and he can’t help but chuckle and hearing this makes your eyes narrow at him.
“Are you seriously fucking laughing at me, Joel?” Your voice is emotional, and you attempt to stand, but it’s useless. Your stupid round belly makes it impossible to do anything, and sadness floods your hormonal body. You whine, “I am so fat -”
Joel shakes his head, watching as your face goes through several emotions simultaneously. There’s not much he can do, but he does reassure you that you are not fat - “You are pregnant,”
“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You grumble, arms crossing over your chest. You wince because you’re nipples feel like they’re on fire, and you feel like they’re about to burst at any second. You wiggle uncomfortably and pout at Joel. He’s thinking of ways to help and can only think of a single thing that might help but is hesitant about bringing it up.
“What if…” He trails off, swallowing the dry lump growing in his throat, “What if I help… relieve some of that pressure?”
Your eyebrows furrow together, confused. “How?”
“Umm,” He glances around. He knows it’s just the two of you, but he wants to make sure because he’s about to suggest something crazy. His voice drops an octave, suggesting, “I can milk you,”
Your jaw slacks, and you hiss, “Like a cow?”
“N-no!” Joel sputters, hands waving aimlessly around, but it dawns on him it’s exactly like that, and sheepishly, he says: “Okay, yeah… it might be similar to that,”
“Joel,” Your voice wavers, hot tears swell in your eyes. You feel stupid! And your emotions won’t stop. You know he’s just trying to help, but dammit! Joel just called you a cow - “I can’t believe you think I’m a cow,”
Joel gives you an apologetic look. He’s sympathetic to your situation; he knows you don’t mean to be this hormonal, and he knows it’s his child doing this to you. He places a hand on your belly and gently rubs the fabric of his stretched-out shirt (the only one that fits!). He leans over, “Darlin’… you’re not a cow. You’re growing a baby. And I think, from what I read, that your milk ducts need to be expressed,”
“What does that mean? Expressed? Are you going to suck the milk out, Joel?”
Joel's cheeks redden, and the sultry tone in your voice surprises him. He thinks he has imagined it, but then, Joel sees how your eyes darken into a lustful frequency. He reads your message loud and clear.
Without hesitation, Joel captures your jaw between his rough fingers and kisses you. It’s sweet. Gentle. Exactly what you need to forget your frustration with him. But of course, you want more. You deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue across Joel’s lower lip and dipping your tongue into his mouth. Ever so slightly, he groans. He loves it when your forward.
You’re leaning over, as far as you can with your belly, and place your hands onto Joel’s jean-clad thighs. You must hold onto something for balance because your stupid belly messes with your center of gravity. You have yet to get used to it. You’re trying to climb into Joel’s lap, but it’s useless. You’re struggling to lift your body into his, and you pull back, huffing in frustration.
“This stupid belly!” You mutter while rubbing it. Joel finds your annoyance cute, and despite his best effort, Joel’s cock is already stirring inside his pants. It’s been a while since you two had sex, and today is the day that he’s going to fuck you after weeks of hiatus.
“Babe, it’s not stupid,” Joel coos and helps you stand. Your belly knocks into his, and it makes him smile. His teeth flash, and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He can’t believe he’s going to be a father again. He can’t wait to meet his little one. But, for now, Joel must give you some relief because it is his fault that you’re in this position. He’s the one who kept pumping his seed into your womb.
Joel knew the consequences of not using a condom, and here he is - reaping what he sowed. He begins leading you to the bedroom, insisting, “Let me take care of you,”
“We shouldn’t - I have to meet Maria in an hour, and it’ll take me at least 45 minutes to waddle there,”
Joel ignores you, pulling your body into the room and shutting the door swiftly behind you. He doesn’t need prying eyes on what he’s about to do. Joel starts by showering your jaw and neck with kisses, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of his shirt before tugging it off. He nearly gasps from seeing your breasts, practically spilling out of the tiny bra that once fit your tits so perfectly.
You feel Joel devouring your body, noting how his hungry eyes stare at your chest. You mutter, “They’re massive, aren’t they?”
“They’re perfect, babe,” Joel nods and wraps an arm around your body. With a single finger, he unlatches your bra, and your tits spring free as the garment falls to the ground. A groan of surprise escapes Joel’s throat, and his hard cock strains against his zipper. He marvels at your milky skin, strewn with veins and stretch marks. He reaches and cups them, his fingers ghosting over your nipples, which are a deeper colour than before. Even in these short weeks, your body has made changes he wasn’t even aware of.
You hiss, “Joel,” but your eyes close because the relief of him holding your breasts has taken the strain off your back. He blows a soft gust at your left side and watches as your face twists into discomfort.
“Shit, darlin’… are they really that sensitive?”
You whimper, “Yeah - they’re that sensitive,”
“If it hurts, tell me to stop,” Joel instructs before he lowers his mouth to your breast. He kisses the skin, and you melt beneath the attention. When Joel swipes his tongue across the rock-hard nipple, you bite back the yelp that threatens to come out and instead focus on how Joel gingerly kneads the pillowy flesh that drapes from your chest. He’s listening to you, waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you don’t. You’re bearing the torment he's putting you through because you know it will feel good at some point. And eventually, it does.
It’s undeniable: Joel’s hands on your breasts feel amazing, and his warm mouth working on your right nipple is starting to create wetness between your thighs. As his fingers continue, you notice a new sensation in your breast that makes you squirm. At that moment, you feel a release as something emerges from your nipple and shoots into Joel’s mouth. You gasp and watch as he finally yields, pulling away from your body. You see the slightest evidence of white dew on his lower lip, and when you look down at your nipple, it's leaking with the same substance. You are shocked, unsure of what to do.
“Does that feel better, darlin’?” Joel hums. Hastily, you nod and swallow dryly. It does feel better, but you need more relief.
You gaze at Joel, eyelids cutely fluttering at him. You sheepishly ask, “What about the other side?”
Joel just smiles and helps you onto the bed. He places two extra pillows behind your back, ensuring you’re comfy before he settles down. He raises his head again, latching his mouth onto your other breast. Once more, the feeling is overwhelming. Almost too much to bear. You grit through the discomfort, relenting to the sensation of Joel’s mouth and hand as he works. Soon enough, another squirt of hidden cream comes forth.
It has you moaning this time, and you bask in the momentary relief. And instead of leaving your breast unattended, your hands thread through Joel’s dishevelled hair, and you keep him there. Breathlessly, you demand, “Don’t stop,” He listens and continues to work your breasts until your moans are frantic and your thighs continuously flex. Your arousal has grown to great heights, and an aching desire radiates in your core for the first time in a long time.
You reach down, fingers dipping into your sweatpants - again, it’s the only thing that fits - and notice how soaked your panties are. Of course, these days, it's a common occurrence. Pregnancy has your body changing in ways you didn’t even consider. Some of them are shocking, and some of them are annoying. Since the first trimester, the idea of sex repulses you. And it made you feel guilty because you live to please Joel. But your lovely partner doesn’t mind; he’s just been taking longer showers, which has been pissing Ellie off because there’s often no hot water left for her -
Joel notices your hand sliding into your pants and wants some of that action too. He takes one hand and places it on top of yours. Sharply, you inhale. You love how Joel is guiding your hand to his will. With his skillful touch, it doesn’t take long to reach the peak, turning you into a groaning mess as waves of pleasure swell and roll across your body. You notice how your belly quivers with delight too.
As you descend from the peak, you let Joel go. He lifts his head and wipes his milk-laced mouth before kissing you on the lips. You taste yourself. It’s sweet and creamy, reminding you of something you can’t quite place. As Joel’s tongue explores your mouth, you relish the feeling because it’s been too long. You missed his passion, and you missed him ravishing your body.
“Joel, I need you,” You whine through kisses as your hands wander up and down his back, attempting to undress him. He moves, and his shirt and pants are on the ground within seconds. With no underwear in sight, your eyes lock onto his dick, hanging freely. The presence of it never fails to make you drool.
Despite his quick movements to undress, Joel takes a slower approach with you and leisurely removes your sweatpants. His hands work with delicate precision, especially when he’s around your stomach. It’s incredibly frustrating for you, and you’re huffing in annoyance. It’s never been like this before. He’s always so rough, taking on a lusty savageness, and Joel would be inside by now. However, he’s still working off your panties.
“Joel,” You whimper. Your body vibrates with anticipation, and you don’t know how much more you can take. You need his cock, and you don’t care if something goes wrong. Months of built-up horniness are making you reckless. You beg, “Please just fuck me already,”
His eyes snap to yours. They’re dark with desire. As he places his body between your thighs, he murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” Joel anticipates your reply - stupid belly - and hushes you before it can come out: “It’s not stupid - it’s love,”
“Love?” You whisper, confused. It’s not common, and Joel has only used it once. Morning sickness took over, and you were throwing up for weeks. Ellie and Joel thought you were dying. And, of course, for a little while, you believed them. It wasn’t until Maria asked when your last period did you clue in. And when you relayed that message to Joel, his grumpy face went unusually slack before joy took over. He swept you into his arms, kissed you, and said:
“I love you,” He repeats while wrapping a hand around his cock, lowering it to your glistening, swollen exterior. Expertly, he glides the crown of his cock up and down, watching as your juices coat it. You moan because your pussy is so unbelievably sensitive that another climax is blooming in your core. Joel finds himself commenting: “Goddamn… Your cunt is soaking wet,”
You squirm, hips wiggling as you spread your thighs further apart. You hate begging for it, but your cunt yearns for fulfillment. “Please!”
Joel presses his big, round tip against your tight entrance. You bite your lower lip, eyes gazing down at the penetration point, but your belly is in the way. You can’t see what’s happening but don’t have to because you suddenly feel his cock pushing through. At first, your velvet channel is resistant, but that doesn’t deter Joel.
As your walls grip his cock, coating it in a creamy warmth, Joel tosses his head back and sighs with satisfaction. It’s been so long. His hand has nothing on your pussy. Joel delves his cock as deep as possible, and you can feel it practically bulging inside your stomach. And when Joel places his hands on either side of your protruding belly, your impending orgasm rips through.
“Mmm, cumming already,” Your pussy convulses and clenches as a powerful wave of immeasurable pleasure crashes. White, hot flashes across your vision, sweeping you into a moment of intensity. Joel admires as your body undulates beneath him, studying as your belly ripples. He knows the pregnancy is the reason for your quick orgasms, and he wonders how many he can get out before he cums.
With a mission in mind, Joel lets you come back down before he starts to rock his hips back and forth. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling with a third orgasm. You cry out, hands gripping the sheets below. You barely have time to catch your breath before Joel ups his pace, and he excitedly speers your pussy with youthful energy.
Hypnotically, Joel watches as your tits bounce with each thrust, and soon enough, his fingers are back on them. He squeezes and kneads until the milk sprays out with a such force that it sprinkles across your chest and coats his hands. A feral growl escapes from your mouth, “Joel,”
Your vision swirls, and your body shivers with ecstasy as a fourth orgasm rolls through. You gasp, sucking in as much air as you can. You look at Joel, marveling at his skin's sheer layer of sweat. He has a look of concentration on his face, and you know he must be close. You encourage him to cum, repeatedly.
But before he can, a fifth and final climax hits your body. It has you swearing and calling Joel names, “You fucking bastard,” as your pussy floods and swells around his cock. By this point, there’s a growing puddle beneath your ass, and Joel’s cock is exploring your molten wetness with ease. His flesh claps against yours and echos across the room. His groans are uncontrollable now, and he screws his eyes shut, trying to hold back.
The effort is futile, and he slams into your body, forgetting about being gentle. A stern look of arousal etches upon his face, and a deep, low guttural grunt spills from his lips. He doesn’t have a chance to warn you because his cock surges with a thick, plentiful rope of his cum, and floods your cunt with a warm stickiness. His hands are back and resting against your belly. Joel juts his hips forward, pushing a second load of cum deep into your cunt. He doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done.
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#joel miller#tlof smut#joel miller kinks#thewordypeach#thewordypeachwrites#wpw#milk#fanfic#smut
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⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader
Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania
I managed to finish this despite, ya know, the aforementioned: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)
˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 (keep reading)
˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦
˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦
「warnings/promises: Alastor x CupidFemReader, broken bones, feet washing, normal sized Luci, you know the outfit in my PFP? You’re wearing that but soft purple and the bottom half is ambiguous because idk baby whatever you feel best in it’s your story, Husk has a bad time, Alastor has a bad time, You have a bad time, Charlie has a great time 👌🏼, not choking」
Minors this one is chill but the next two imma need you to Dni 💋 ♥️ 🧹lovingly
You had made a mistake, yes, but Hell? Really?
Sure, you had dropped an arrow into the water supply of a nunnery which did lead to some unholy behaviors. But! The nuns seemed quite happy. Wasn’t that the point?
Tossing you to Hell through a hastily opened portal was honestly unprofessional. You ended up dropping three stories, upside down, in front of a butcher's shop.
In the seconds between Sera telling you, ‘You can return when you’ve made a sinner believe in true love.’ and Lute kicking you square in the chest through the hell door, you thought it wouldn’t be so hard. True, you couldn’t use your arrows as that wouldn’t be “true love” and also too easy, even gods weak to your shots, but ultimately sinners were still human. Humans were pushovers! Pliable, gentle at their hearts, desiring love and tenderness. How bad could the naughty ones be?
And then you landed shoulder first onto the pavement. It hurt. Things didn’t hurt in heaven…
Your arrows scattered, quiver spilling when you inverted. Wincing, you scrambled to grab as many as were within reach. Your right shoulder was burning, a new sensation.
You counted them by name as you gathered: Eros, Agape, Philia, Pragma, Philautia, Ludus, Storge… panic.
ErosAgapePhiliaPragmaPhilautiaLudusStorge— Mania wasn’t there. Arguably the arrow that caused you the most trouble, the sting of Mania would cause a madness that led to obsessive behaviors, possessiveness, jealousy.
Pulling yourself up, arrows clutched in one hand, the other holding the place near your collar was throbbing, your eyes were frantic in their search.
“What’s this?”
You finally looked up from the sidewalk, a man’s back to you before he turned. Bile rose and burned your throat as he pulled Mania from where it had pierced his chest pocket.
His eyes, shades of red heaven didn’t even entertain, made a simple trip from the arrow's head to your face.
The man went so still you thought for a moment he was a hologram, but you could see the tiniest rise and fall of his chest. A deer facing down a bright light, he remained frozen in place as you began to approach him.
“Excuse my manners, but that’s mine and I really need it back.” Your injured arm moved first and the pain made you see white, a cry so sharp people turned to look. He snapped back to his senses, and with an odd sound you couldn’t quite place, he seemingly disappeared into the ground.
Mania was left behind, shining smugly against the dirty pavement. You didn’t want to make a reach for it, fear flooding you. You’d never felt pain before.
You’d seen it in humans, but never in your existence had you experienced it. Would both arms hurt?
You let the left hand abandon its guarding place and grabbed the errant arrow. Tucking into an alley, you crouched and returned the arrows to their quiver with immense difficulty.
Okay, yes it was Hell but maybe you were a little paranoid. A sense of being watched wouldn't leave you even after you re-emerged from the darkness of the alley.
The enormity of your task set in as you surveyed the area. You, an obviously heavenly creature even without your wings out on display, would need time to make anyone believe in any form of love. Where would you go in the meantime? And now injured for the first time in your life? How long would that need to mend?
Expanding your view, you saw the currently defunct doomsday countdown hovering above the embassy. Perfect, holy ground would atleast keep you safe for the night, which was falling with a malignant speed.
They couldn’t have given you some time to change? Or pack a set of clothes? Your short sleeved button up a (literally) glowing shade of white was attracting too much attention, golden sandals now cloudy from various fluids across Pentagram city’s streets. Your heart shaped overalls a powdered purple, you looked like an adult child among a sea of very tired professionals.
When you got to the embassy you only had one good arm to open the heavy doors, which unfortunately didn’t budge. Perhaps you needed two? Trying to muster up some adrenaline, you began to pant. Deep breaths like the women in labour you sometimes worked your magic on.
As soon as you gripped the handle you saw something that made you jump back, muscles flexing around whatever damage you’d done in your body from the fall. A large black snake? Some demonic squid’s appendage? Something unholy grabbed hold of the handle as soon as you had and gave such a tug the doors violently shook.
You spun around to the dark neighborhood behind you. Nothing. Turning back the thing was gone. And so was all of your hope. It was locked. The tears were unwanted and unnecessary, but just-- you were hurting so much, you were dirty, you were alone, and now essentially homeless.
If there was ever a reason to cry, you decided to let yourself have this one.
The lamplights flickered and the entire street went pitch black. Because of course it did.
Hyperventilating now entirely without intention, you watched as one light to the left popped on with a static buzz. Desperate to be out of the darkness you ran to the spotlight. As soon as your foot entered the beam, the light beside it lit up. Your eyes wandered to heaven above, were they helping you? Had you not been entirely abandoned?
Of course! Yeah. They sensed you at the doors and sent off some guidance. How silly of you. Relief washed over you as you ran through the lights until your foot left one spotlight but the next hadn't popped on.
Twirling back to the embassy, you saw all of the lights shut off in succession behind you.
Just you and the one lamp now, and the glow of some TVs in the shop window to the right. What was the meaning of this?
That weird sound you heard earlier but couldn’t place… electricity but dusty and barely contained. Your gaze was drawn to the radio in the shop window in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it until it buzzed to life. It lit up faintly, dial turning on its own until a high and smooth voice rang out, “Looking for your way to heaven? You’re in luck! The Hazbin Hotel is now accepting any and all willing to find redemption!”
This must have been the message, I mean, heaven was never good at being subtle.
“Just make your way to the left and toward the looming building atop the hill!”
Your head turned to your left and then up slightly. Bathed in red and white lights stood a behemoth of a building on the edge of a cliff.
Head still facing the hotel, your eyes flitted back to the radio.
“Reception is open 24 hours a day!”
You touched your arm, then patted at your pockets. Not a wallet or ID card on you. You were the 17th Cupid incarnation, why would you have a fucking ID card? But didn’t those places need such things? You’d seen every romcom earth had ever produced. There was always some issue with hotel check ins.
“Not a red cent needed! We literally do not care who you are!”
Oh. Wait. Was this a trap?
“Created by the Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter! A foolish young woman who genuinely believes in reforming sinners!”
Lucifer?? The former angel, yes, but the word angel carried much more weight now. Perhaps he would have a modicum of pity given your circumstances.
You took an unsteady foot forward and toward the hotel when the street lights all buzzed back to life.
The path to the hotel was long, many demons stopping you on your way but quickly losing interest after a second or two of pestering you. You gave a silent prayer to the archangels for that blessing.
It must have been nearly 1am when you finally made it to the hotel’s doors. When you entered you found an empty reception desk and a poorly written note:
Before the bell’s hammer even hit the metal, a man popped up from behind the counter.
The man.
The man you shot with Mania.
“Welcome to th-,”
You were outside and leaving the awning before he could finish, but just as quickly as you left he appeared in front of you, “Still missing your manners?”
He blocked your path with his remarkable size. Why were demons so tall? What was the use of it?
“Deer got your tongue?” He bent over unnaturally at the waist.
“What?”
“Would you like-,” he began.
You walked around him and down the driveway. He moved briskly beside you, slowly growing larger and larger until his body was several stories tall and entirely blocking the gates of the premises.
A horror. Hell was full of horrors.
He crouched, large toothy smile now baring down at you.
If you stabbed him in the eye with an arrow, which would cause the least trouble? It was a rule to never give a double love bite but this was a dire situation.
But if you were sent to hell for a little nun love fest, what would purposefully stabbing a sinner do?
He rapidly shrank, hands coming to his front to catch a summoned microphone…Cane? Staff?
“You’re injured. Just, come back inside. I promise I don’t bite without consent.” His head cocked to the side, a quiet, “Usually” tacked on.
We’re you visibly hurt? How bad was it? You looked past him to where sounds of yelling and music were rolling up the hill.
“You don’t have many options, angel.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. Disgust almost seemed to lace his voice, but why, then, was he offering help?
“Not an angel. Cupid. Different.” Kind of. You gave the quiver a shake.
“Ah yes. That explains why you shot at me earlier.” A large hand came to your side and directed you to turn back around. He kept it there, pushing softly to keep you moving.
“I didn't shoot you.”, You huffed, crossing your arms before doubling over in pain. He stopped walking, hand resting now against your spine. Regaining your composure, you continued towards the hotel lobby, “My arrows fell out and…you caught one. With your body.”
“My pocket made quite the lucky catch. Now!” He snapped, a key appearing and floating into his hand with a sparkle of neon green, “Let’s get you to a room and cleaned up.”
“Do you work here?” You asked as he escorted you to one of the upper floors. The room was surprisingly clean and well decorated. You had expected a dingy highway motel. And while the room was largely dark wood and rich colors, it wasn’t as offensive as the rest of hell had been.
“Ah! My my, forgive me! I am Alastor, the radio demon and hotel manager here.” He bowed and offered his hand for you to place yours in. You did so without thinking, and he kissed your knuckles once but his mouth lingered over your flesh. Eyes half lidded, he glanced back up at you, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”
There was no way to reverse Cupid’s arrows. Not by force. Love could only die by the hands of the ones who held it. Others could definitely bruise it, but ultimately it was up to the beholder. Mania was a little different, obsession could be dispelled by shattering whatever illusion the holder felt.
If the holder thought someone was the epitome of genteel chastity then a show of wanton sexuality could break the spell. If someone was convinced the object of their desire was very smart and savvy then acting ignorant could make the obsession fall flat. But there was no indication he had any illusions of you. Not yet, atleast.
Mania was now his, and he would keep it in his heart until he lost it or killed it. He could, technically, be possessed by, and be in the possession of, Mania for eternity. A sinner had never been shot before, that you knew of.
He didn’t noticeably react as you took back your hand. With a hum, he snapped again and you found a chair pulled up behind you and knocking into the back of your knees. You fell into the plush armchair, watching a metal basin of steaming water slide against your feet.
“Excuse you— ExcUU-,” you pulled your legs back but he pulled harder, Alastor removing your dirty shoes and tossing them off to the side like trash.
“You can't clean yourself with that broken collar bone. Allow me.” His hand gripped your ankles and dunked both into the water, “I insist.”
“It’s broken? How could I break a collarbone…,” the humor wasn’t lost on you, sinner washing holy feet, but your focus was entirely on the concept of a broken bone.
“Falling twenty five feet head first, apparently.” Alastor rubbed soap into your calves.
“But I don’t break.” What happened to you, what had that kick into hell done? “You saw me? Also, that isn’t dirty.” you pointed at your calf.
“Peripherally.”
Did he mean the dirt or witnessing the fall? You sat in silence while he hummed, returning your feet to their original color.
“Now,” he rose, patting his hands dry on a small towel, “Unbutton your top.”
Your expression was apparently quite loud, Alastor putting his hands up quickly, “Not like that. I’ve no interest in that sort of thing. I need to see your shoulder and upper chest.” He waited patiently, staring at you the entire time. His smile was so wide, teeth yellow and sharp. Unsettling.
He really did look like he could eat you. You’d heard of such demons.
You slipped off the straps of your overalls, and began to open your shirt. He did away with the water, coming to kneel directly to your right as he watched. You couldn’t see anything without some kind of mirror. If it was bruised or swollen, it was out of your line of sight. Long clawed hands came to the front and back of your shoulder, pressing inward. You pulled away, a firm grip now as his right hand held at the left side of your waist.
“Are you a doctor?” Hotel manager and doctor would be an unlikely combo, but the day had been odd from start to finish.
A shake of the head, “But when I was alive, I did have quite a lot of experience with the inner workings of anatomy.” You grimaced, how could he say such sinister things with such a lovely voice? “Maybe not broken. But I’d say at least a fracture. Perhaps your heavenly body didn’t take full damage. It hurts when you move your arm, correct?” You nodded.
He hummed, another click of his fingers and a fabric unfurled into his waiting hands. “Take it all the way off so I can set this.”
You were exhausted. The pain was gnawing at your nerves. No more fight in you, you just wanted rest, so you slipped off the shirt entirely and let him wrap your arm up into a simple sling. You were surprised his hands were so warm. Demons seemed like they’d be cold to the touch. Like lizards or pearls.
When he finished, you sitting in the large chair with your arm wrapped in a silky black sling, no shirt, and pastel purple heart-shaped overalls folded down your torso, you considered having another cry. You felt your chin tremble. You couldn’t recall ever crying from sadness before today.
It was just a mistake. You hadn’t meant to drop your arrow. Why were the archangels so angry? What’s some sex between nuns?
Alastor bristled, hand coming to your cheek. It was an unwelcome gesture. You batted his hand away with your only free one, but he just sighed and set it on your thigh. You pushed it off, shooting him a glare. The audacity.
You thought you saw his eye twitch.
With what little energy was left in, you stood and open the door for him, “You have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” Oh, right, “Please.”
He stood, pausing as he passed you. He was so tall. Shoulders wide. You felt your heart rate pick up. Even with two good collarbones you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight.
Alastor leaned down to your level, you backing up and into the door, “Until the morning.”
When he said it you had thought he was just going about formalities. But he wasn’t. You awoke some hours later to a knock. When you opened the door he was looming in your doorway again.
You tried to close the door but he put his foot in the gap, then a strong hand wrapped around the door’s edge and he pushed his way into the room.
You sputtered, arm flailing a little as you choked on which reaction to give first. You were undressed, in just your under things.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself further when you get dressed. I’ll undo the sling and help.” Closing the door he then spun back around to face you, smile as bright as it was earlier that same day.
“No! Absolutely not! Leave! Please!”
As he guided your arm through the shirt, you struggled to process what had happened. One minute you were indignant and stubborn and then he was so close to you, hands warm and gentle, and then already he was untying the sling and your shirt was just there and-
“See? Wasn’t that easy? No harm in accepting help.” Alastor looked you over from top to bottom.
“Accepting? What part of any of that did I accept.” You stood bottomless in a button up, trying to get the overalls from the hanger with just your left hand. His chest pressed into your back, nearly forcing you to fall into the armoire, to assist you.
“The part where you didn’t actively fight me. I think we can call that acceptance until you learn better.” His words shook through your ribs and to your front.
Annoyance rose in your chest, what was he thinking? Humans had no right to touch you let alone a sinner. “You’re an eldritch horror, please back away from the divine creature before you.” Alastor laughed, backing away with the clothes in his hands. Hand out, you motioned for him to pass it over. He tossed it on the floor, and took a seat on the bed with crossed legs. “Oh, I see. You’re an asshole. Perfect.” Pretense gone, manners not needed.
You grabbed it with your left hand and managed to get both legs into it before slinking it up and onto your left shoulder. While you tried to figure out how to do the right side, realizing the flaw in your order of processes, Alastor leaned over and unhooked the left strap, overalls falling to the carpet with a soft thud.
You stood there for several moments, staring at him with purple fabric pooled around your ankles, him staring at you with a shiteating grin.
After finally getting dressed, preferring to not think about how, you were followed down to the lobby.
“Breakfast?” He asked, you both in the elevator as he hadn’t gone more than three feet from you since he entered your bedroom.
“No, no appetite. I need to find Lucifer.” You were sure he could help somehow. Somehow he could do….something. Details about Lucifer’s powers and abilities, his strengths and skills were all kept hush-hush. But if nothing else, you could find someone who understood your position.
Your hand was being vigorously shaken before the elevator doors even closed behind you. Charlie Morningstar was not what you expected. Chipper and bright, she was bursting with energy.
“Gentle, Charlie. Our dear Cupid is injured.” Alastor’s hand came to the small of your back. You reached back with your left hand and knocked it off of you.
“Like, the real actual cupid?!” Charlie’s eyes were shining, you could almost see the hearts floating up around her face. You felt Alastor’s hand again, now on your hip. You took three steps to the right, slipping from his fingertips.
“Yes, that is exactly what I-.” You were cut off, Charlie launching into a speech about sinners and heaven and redemption and so much more you couldn’t process.
The energy she gave us was very angelic, which was confusing. Until you saw her father entering the common area.
The most hated creature in all of creation. Your best hope for a tiny sliver of comfort.
Alastor’s hand reached for yours, fingers trapping your wrist and stopping you from approaching the king of hell.
You shook your arm. His hold stayed. You tugged. He was unaffected, talking to Charlie now about your injury as if you weren’t right there.
As Cupid, or at least as a cupid, you weren’t physically strong. You really weren’t meant to exist for a long time, just for as long as your body held up to repeated trips to the human realm. But, in heaven, you were never capable of being harmed. And of course, on earth, you weren’t really corporeal so no harm could come to you. You weren’t built for tug of war with a 7 foot tall demon.
“Mr. Devil! Sir!” You waved your foot, shouting out to the normal sized man. As he saw you, his eyes widened, “Hello there! Sorry to be a bother, I’m from heaven and-” You jerked your hand free, power walking to Lucifer, “I’m here on punishment. It’s a pleasure to meet another member of Elysium’s caretakers. Former or otherwise.”
Flustered, Lucifer fumbled with his phone before dropping it. “Oh! Shit! H-hello!”
You reached down to retrieve it for him, seeing black and red shoes behind you as you did.
“What — why are you here?” Lucifer was looking at Alastor now, which was great news because for a second you thought he was talking to you. A sneaking feeling leaked into your chest that heaven hadn’t actually told him you were coming.
“Just keeping an eye on my guest! As you can see she got injured and I’ve taken to the task of her safety while she’s in hell.”
“No one asked him to do that, sir.” Your smile was strained, you could feel Alastor’s shoulder was touching yours. You looked to where you were connected and then back to Lucifer, “Are all sinners like this?”
“Honestly? Yes. They’re all pretty terrible.” Lucifer sighed, “What did you do?”
A cold sweat, “Misused an arrow. I can’t leave hell until I make a demon who doesn’t already believe in true love…believe in it.”
“Oh no! That’s— you’re gonna be here awhile.” Lucifer pulled at his collar in a mock attempt to release the awkward heat of the conversation. He saw you wither, and Alastor seemed to bloom, so he quickly changed pace, “But! Uhhh, you can totally do it! Charlie has some of the best of the worst here. If I can ever help, just ask!” Nervous laughter that did not put you at ease. He seemed so silly. So sweet and easily flustered.
You felt your hope dash for a second time in less than a day. How long would you be in hell? How long was awhile?
“She is my responsibility now. She won’t be needing anything from you, your majesty.”
A darkness came over you as the two demons began to bicker. You now had your own obsessed shadow; a large and creepy sinner following you around. How on earth could you get close enough to a demon to complete your task? Convincing someone of true love would require trust and time. This would be impossible with Alastor attached to your side.
You spent the first week in hell in the hotel. Everytime you got the courage to leave and explore the areas outside, you’d find yourself shadow portaled “back to safety” by Alastor. It was like the human film ‘Groundhog Day’, always starting over back in the lobby.
No matter where you went in the hotel, he was either beside you or where you had been headed. You saw the sky less often than Alastor’s grin and you couldn’t stand it. You took to hiding, leaning against darkened stairwell corners and sitting on the floor of the ladies restroom.
It bought you a little time to yourself, but the second you moved he was there again. Asking if you were a lost little doe, hand reaching for your waist to pull you near him, red eyes threatening to swallow you whole.
Toward the end of the week, while helping you get dressed as he did daily, Alastor took a step back. “I could get you some new clothes. Cannibal town has the finest duds.” He lifted the lace that lined the top of your pocket, “You stick out. No demon is going to let you trick them into believing in true love like this.”
You could have screamed. No, no demon would even approach you with Alastor standing behind you. It absolutely wasn’t the clothes. You politely rejected the offer and went about your day.
The next morning you awoke to find your floor littered with strips of something. Flinging open the armoire you found two empty hangers. You turned back, noticing the white and purple color to the fabric confetti.
The march to Alastor’s room was easy, as it was 10 feet in front of your door. He had placed you directly across from him, because, ya know, Mania.
He clearly hadn’t expected you to leave your room in your underwear, eyes like saucers as he yanked you in.
“What in heaven are you doing?! Anyone could see you.” He hissed, closing the door with a little too much force.
“Whose fault is that?!” You seethed in return. Anger was something you rarely ever felt but he was inspiring new things in you. “Someone shredded my clothes.”
Alastor’s ears folded back, eyes looking to the left and up, “Odd. Are you sure? Maybe you accidentally threw them away.” That devilish grin you’d come to expect. He knew damn well how stupid that was.
You stomped your foot, if you had two working hands you’d try to rip his antlers off, “Are you serious?!” You turned to leave, kicking the door before attempting to open it.
A large hand pressed back on the door, slamming it shut. His breath was dropping down the back of your neck despite his considerable height, “You will not be leaving this room in such a state of undress, my dear.”
His voice was so low and close, had anyone ever spoken to you with such a commanding tone? A new feeling twitched in you. You blocked it out.
“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” said too softly.
His other hand came to press on the door, too. An arm to either side of you, trapped, as he leaned in. You pressed yourself against the door to make distance from his body.
“Oh, I absolutely do. Who is going to stop me? You?” Alastor’s voice had noticeably dropped an octave as he whispered what felt like a challenge against your hair.
Who indeed…you had no strength, an arrow would either be useless or complicate things. Lucifer seemed preoccupied and jittery. Heaven wasn’t returning your prayers.
He took your silence as an answer.
“Exactly. Now, I’ll only ask nicely once.” His hands left, warmth on your neck fading. You turned to look at him, sensing his eyes burning holes into your back.
He was holding a two piece set. Older style, 1920s American maybe. Black and burgundy. When did he have time to get this when every hour seemed to be spent near you?
“May I help you get dressed?”
You’d gotten quite close with the few residents who didn’t run at the sight of Alastor. Husk was one of them. You became fast friends, often drinking and lamenting about Alastor’s general existence as Alastor sat some 15 feet away on the sofa. Still not allowed outside the hotel gates, your second week you spent many hours at the bar talking to the surprisingly kind grump.
To your delight Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, oddly, as long as you were in eyesight he seemed content.
You thought maybe his mania was already waning. Sure you hadn’t attempted to leave the hotel, and you hadn’t argued when he dressed you, but…Ah, hm. Fuck.
Mania can look like Love when you don't struggle against it. A fly motionless in a web can elude the spider for a little bit.
Don't push against the restraints and you can forget they are there entirely.
But push you did, accidentally. Husk was making some new cocktails, trying to enjoy himself and be creative.
“Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned.
“Good?”
He took another sip before handing the glass to you. You grabbed it, taking a taste. Sweet but a bite as it went down. Something with citrus. When you looked up from the glass, he was gone.
A choking noise from behind the bar made you stand up in your seat, eyes flying from Husk to Alastor. A glowing green leash dragging Husk across the floor, his hands desperately pulling at the collar as he struggled to breath.
“Stop!” You shouted, crawling over the bar and grabbing the chain with your good arm. You tried to pull back, to slow the choking force, but got pulled along with it. “Alastor!” You screamed as your shoulder hit the floor and sent searing pain down your arm.
You could hear Husk gasp, the green glow disappearing from past your clenched eyelids.
“Why can’t you-,” Alastor started to speak a he came to your side. Husk scurried away, crawling back from the demon. You hit the hand Alastor offered you but were surprised to see his face painted with concern.
“I said stop.” After rolling to your feet you began to march away. “Every time I find something nice in this piece of shit domain you remind me I’m in hell.”
You had almost made it to your room when a hand pulled you by the good shoulder and pushed you against the wall. It still hurt.
“Don’t you know? Sharing a drink, it’s as close to a kiss as you could get without bringing your mouth to his.”
“It was a drink, Alastor. You had no right.”
His hand settled on your throat. No grip, just a gentle placement, “I have every right.” His brows knit together in worry, in confusion. “What should I do to make you understand me?” His hand came to your chin, thumb ghosting over your lips.
“If I let you go too far, someone will surely take you. Who wouldn’t? Please. Stop pushing me so much.” His eyes were almost loving as they shined down at you. His breath was picking up. You could hear the desperation in his voice.
Those damned eyes were unrelenting in their stare into your own. There was no creature in presence or audacity in heaven like Alastor. You’d never encountered anything like him.
“Of all the Love you had to take a stray hit from, Mania really was the cruelest accident.” You held your hand at the crook of your neck, wondering if you did more damage. No, if he did more damage.
“Mania? Is that the arrow I caught? How fitting.” His finger pulled down on your bottom lip. You’d seen this movie, you’d been there for these scenes in dorm rooms and under rainy awnings, in darkened beds and sunny fields. You could move, no part of him was actually holding you physically. “Yes, maybe I am obsessed. But whose fault is that? Will you take responsibility for it?” His chest was shaking with every breath. Why didn’t you move? Just walk away. Knock off that touch as you had been doing. You hadn’t noticed how quickly you were breathing, too, until his hand was pulling your chin up and towards his face.
It only came out as a whisper, half said as it was only half meant, “don’t.”
A laugh, “At least pretend you mean it.”
Your knees came together in some desperate attempt to stop the feeling creeping up your legs and to your lap, “Apologize to Husk.”
“Why would I ever do such a thing?” His breath was so warm on your mouth, face tilted to keep his nose from hitting yours.
“What a terrible reply!” You slid down the wall and slipped under his arms, “If you shadow work your way into this room I will fuck that horny spider on camera just to spite you.” You opened your door, pausing to make sure he was still down the hall, “Angel on Angel, working title.”
Your whole body went slack, the sounds of a wild animal loose in the hallway rocking the door as you took shaky steps to the bed, paintings on the walls rattling as he did unseen damage. Sounds of an unknown, unholy animal raging just past the thin drywall.
Had you ever seen Mania work so quickly with so little fuel? Hand coming to your mouth, a burning where his finger touched you.
No one had touched your lips before. No one could ever hope to. Humans were beyond the realm of feeling you, and you didn’t allow kissing with the partners you took in heaven. Personal rule. As in, it was too personal.
The lights in your room flickered, briefly shrouding you in darkness before coming back to life.
Deja vu.
Oh.
What had he introduced himself as? The radio demon? It wasn’t heaven who brought you to the hotel. Of course not.
No. Obviously not.
ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan
@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re
#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor smut#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor x you#hazbinhotel#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor
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The Kid of Candles
Jason Todd has been living on the streets for a while now. Ever since his mom overdosed, he's been struggling to find shelter. He was doing better in the summer and fall, but now bitter winter had come to Gotham, and it was taking everything he had not to freeze to death.
There were a lot of kids like him and even more that went to sleep but never woke up after a snowstorm. Jason is still tiny, and very new, and that means he's an easier target. He has met kids who pretend to be kind in order to steal from him but he's also met some who were willing to share what little they had.
He wouldn't call them friends. Just other survivors. He is currently in a camp created by these survivors. Street kids have carved their own place on the streets simply by staying alive the longest, and casually they allow the smaller ones in for the bad weather with the understanding that the younger ones were to leave as soon as the sun was up.
He is trying to warm up next to the lit fire by one of the older street kids when a teenager stands on a little crate. The teenager starts tapping a piece of wood against a small amount of metal like they are trying to make a toast.
He's unsure about their gender; they always tell people they are not a girl or a boy, but they are the leader of the little pack of street urchins and the only ones willing to share the small blankets.
They go by Rowan, and Rowan adores campfire stories as if they were just some rich kids paying to go out into the woods and sleep in tents instead of shivering unwanted brats sleeping on rolled-up newspapers. Some street kids groan and roll their eyes, but not Jason.
Rowan's stories are the closest he can get now to books. Before, he would read and escape to the magical world found among letters away from his mother's addiction and the worsening living conditions. Books were his comfort and one of the things he missed the most from his home.
"Gather around, gather around children, and listen to the tale of the Kid of Candles!" Rowan starts, cracking their voice into a gleeful cackle. The older ones scoff, but the younger kids all turn their attention to the ringleader.
Jason moves away from the fire to sit right in front of the crate, pulling his knees to his chest as he settles. Someone takes his spot by the fire, and he hopes the story is worth the loss. "Long ago, when Gotham was first founded by Captain Jon Logerquist, he claimed to follow a bright white light that led him right to Gotham River after suffering the loss of his entire crew to a sea storm. He would have died had he not lit the last candle on the ship- a black candle. The candle attracted the attention of a unique child, who appeared on his deck among the bright light. A boy with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, and sharp teeth pulled into a kind smile."
The children gasped as even Jason leaned closer, captivated by Rowan's smooth voice. "Captain Jon Logerquist was able to rebuild his ship and return home to report the ideal location for a new city. The founding families, the Waynes, the Kanes, the Elliots, and the Cobblepots, all agreed to take the Logerquist's request and loaded their four family ships with volunteers to start Gotham. Still, they soon became lost when Captain Logerquist tragically passed along the trip. As he was the only person who knew the way, the new crew and civilians quickly panicked, getting further and further away from the location that would later be Gotham. They attempted to turn around, hoping to return home, but navigation tactics were not working. It was almost as if the waters and stars moved, wanting to claim as many victims as possible. This would later be known as Gotham's Orginal Curse."
Rowan paused to wiggle their fingers at the crowd of ten children and a few teenagers- the ones from Rowan's original gang- all made the appropriate ooooohhhhh sounds. Jason shivers as a storage sense of pressure settles around his shoulders. It felt like the city itself was listening to the tale. He wonders if anyone else felt it.
"They quickly ran out of food, and the passengers even began speaking of eating each other to survive. A young Wayne boy, one of the few who could read, found Logerquist's journal in his cabin and decided to try lighting a black candle while the adults argued." Rowan continues mimicking, opening a book, and lighting a candle. That's another thing Jason liked about Rowman's stories. They tended to act out some scenes, and it was highly entertaining.
"Just like before, a bright white light appeared before the lite black candle, and a boy with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, and a kind, sharp smile told the Waynes to follow him, which they agreed to. The three other family ships reluctantly followed when the Waynes broke away from the formation and arrived at Gotham. There, they found all the resources they needed to survive and riches beyond their wildest dreams. Since then, the Kid of Candles has appeared throughout Gotham's history, leading those who are lost to their homes whenever a black candle is lit. It is said to this day if you are genuinely lost and light a black candle, the Kid of Candles will appear but be warned, his assistance always comes with a price,"
Jason gasped as the pressure increased around him. Seriously how had no one else felt it yet? "What is the price?"
Rowan snaps their fingers at him with a sinister smile. "Death. When you ask the dead for help, they will ensure you join them as a repayment. Maybe not the same day, maybe not for years, but he will claim you eventually."
A few kids whimpered.
"Oh, knock it off, Rowan," A teenage girl snaps. "You're scaring the little ones with your stupid urban myths."
"Gotham myths are not stupid!" Rowan's gasps hurt. "They are the closest accurate account of Gotham's real history!"
"Sure, just like the Court of Owls and their Talons." the girl rolls her eyes.
"Those are real. The Court's Talons should not be taken lightly. They are far worse than the Kid of Candle. At least he is benevolent enough to help you home!"
Jason retreats to his corner of the abandoned warehouse factory, ignoring the bickering of the teenage gang. He sits with his back to the wall, his feet tucked close to his chest, and all his things squished between his body and a second wall on his right. It's uncomfortable but ideal for keeping what little he has safe and making it easier to get up and run should the need arise.
He found that the need came a lot more often than he liked. He nods off after trying to squeeze his body closely together to hopefully gather warmth.
The following day, a teenager kicks him in the side, sneering that the free space-time is over and Rowan wants him out in ten minutes. Jason doesn't have to be told twice, gathering his things and scurrying to the exit. As he passed Rowan, he offered the elder a nod of thanks, and the storyteller gave him a wink and grin.
They also press a black candle into Jason's palm. "Hey he brought me to my gang, so why can't he lead you?"
Jason smiles, no commenting, and pockets the candle without hesitation. He may need to sleep here again and doesn't think calling bullshit will be a smart move.
It's best not to offend the crazy leader. A day goes by where he panhandles out of the cop's sight, wandering around the city looking for some food, and even gets a rich guy to give him fifty bucks after asking politely, but he runs when he asks if he has somewhere safe to sleep.
All in all, not the worst day. That night, he returns to Rowan's place but is told they already have too many. Disheartened, Jason wanders to sleep under a bridge by Gotham River. As he shivers near the frozen water, he thinks of the black candle.
He has a few matches on him, and maybe the small candle can help him start a bigger fire to keep warm. Jason strikes his match The pressure from before returns making him waver for only a moment before he dares set the wake aflame.
A few seconds go by with nothing happening, and he's just about getting embarrassed for believing in a stupid urban legend when he's blinded by the brightest light he's ever seen. A floating boy with white hair, green glowing eyes, and a broad smile appears before Jason.
He screams, stumbling back to fall on his butt as the boy floats to touch the ground before him.
The boy smile widens. "Hello Jason, it's time to go home."
Jason runs, but it gives chase, throwing out directions. He attempts to do whatever it is- by going the opposite direction, but it's to no avail. Jason knows Gotham like the back of his hand and swears the streets are moving. Roads that are blocks away from each other are right around the corners he takes.
Soon, an unnatural light blue fog surrounds him, blocking his view of anything more than two feet before him. He glances over his shoulder, confirming the mist is coming from the glowing figure that flies behind him at an easy, steady pace.
He picks up his speed.
Jason doesn't understand what's happening, but he remembers Rowan's voice as he pumps his legs to go as fast as they can to the point they burn. This would later be known as Gotham's Orginal Curse."
Oh god, he's been cursed by the Kid of Candles!
"We're here. I hope you have a lovely life with your new family." The being suddenly says hand on Jason's elbow, causing the boy to trip over and hit against a large metal gate. The fog disperses like a blown-away candle, and the Kid of Candles vanishes in its smoke as the gates of Intercon turn on.
"Wayne Manor. Who might you-" a voice with a British accent speaks over the speakers, but Jason cuts them off with a frightful yelp.
"Help! Help! Please, he's going to kill me!" He shouts, eyes swinging around the new place he is. He thinks he doesn't recognize this place at all, which means he's somewhere out of the city- the outskirts. Where the wealthy live.
It would take a good two hours by car to get here, and The Kid of Candles got him here in ten by bending reality or something. And now Jason owed it something.
He owed it his death.
He crumbles into sobs, so terrified his heart feels like it will escape from his chest. "Please. I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
There is a long pause, where all Jason can hear is his own uneven breathing and the beating of his chest, before the gates swing open, and a slightly older teenager- probably around Rowan's age- is offering him a hand.
"Hi, I'm Dick. I think I can help you if you come inside."
Jason stares at the hand for a few seconds, but from the corner of his eye, he swears he sees a boy watching them and quickly takes the hand.
His right elbow has a new tattoo he never paid for. It's a burning black candle, right where the Kid had touched him. It's also the same tattoo on Rowan's right hand. Jason cries for hours when he finds it.
Years later, Jason will admit that the Kid of Candles truly did help him find a home. He would come to love Bruce like father, as the man took him in, mistaking Jason as an escapee of human trafficking, and was there to buffer the misunderstanding between him and Dick.
He would point out that Dick called him dad outside the house, and Bruce would sit his eldest down to ask if he was okay with an adoption. Dick would settle with the knowledge that Bruce didn't keep him around to fight crime, and he would open his heart to Jason as a brother.
He would grow to follow in his brother's footsteps and become Robin- after making sure Dick was okay with it- and would help his new father fight crime. When Jason is fourteen, he finds out his mother is not his biological, and he learns his real mom is still alive.
He asks Dick and Bruce for help to find her, so the three load the plane as the Waynes instead of the Bats, and thus they help put her away together when the met-up goes south.
She tries to sell them to the Joker, but Bruce overhears her and gets authorities to him in mere minutes, long before the Joker can meet up with her.
She is in cuffs and being led away from the warehouse where the Joker was going to wait for her.
In the chaos, Jason notices the glowing white-haired boy smiling at the warehouse entrance, but Jason doesn't go near it. Not even after it explodes, killing the Joker who was inside. Not even when Bruce holds them close, horrified that they could have been so close to the explosion- they were in civilian identities and needed to put up a show- but he does notice that the Candle on his elbow is shorter.
That night Jason traces the shorter melted candle and he knows he escaped death once more. He doesn't know how he knows but something deep within him knows the Kid of Candles hand something to do with it.
He would swing by Rowan's place as Robin and Jason Wayne to help them and their gang get off the streets.
Rowan would one day open a bookstore, where they would hold weekly storytelling, naming the store the Black Candle in thanks to the spirit that led them to his lifelong friends.
Jason will, however, never get over his fear of ghosts, not even when the same green fog would one night lead the neighbor's boy right to their yard. His little brother, Tim, thought The Kid of Candles was kind, handsome, and awesome (might be a crush in all honestly) but Jason will always know it was much more dangerous than meets the eye.
All things in Gotham are deadly beautiful like that.
The Waynes still have a drawer full of black candles they take out in the field, just in case.
(Danny Phantom watches Jason sleep, his protection core warming as the boy cuddles with Tim after his little brother admitted to a nightmare. He's glad they found somewhere that could offer everything they needed in a home.
A house and a home are two very different things, after all.
It reminds him of when he was alive.
A candle is flickered on somewhere in the city, and he blinks out of existence, ready to help- Steph- get away from her father. Hmmm, well, Bruce does have the space for more kids)
#dcxdpdabbles#The Kid of Candles#Danny is a urban legend in Gotham#He's fully dead#And not in his world#Light a black candle and he'll lead you home#Jason joins the family early#Yes Tim has a crush
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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.
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