*The journey back to the Underworld felt longer this time. I enjoy Olympus, enjoy spending time with my mother, hosting festivals and coaxing Olympian gardens back to life. My mother's hands are skilled, but she cannot do it all alone.* *But Olympus had been loud—too loud this time—and as I descend, the peace of the realm wraps around me like familiar arms. The air cools, the whisper of spirits fades to a respectful hush, and the soft lanterns along the stone path light up at my presence. My long, red hair drags along the stone. I usually have it up, but I purposefully put it down when coming back. My love seems to prefer it free.* *I expect him to be here, of course. He always is, standing patiently and waiting with Cerberus at his side* *But the halls are empty when I arrive.* *Cerberus trots up, whining quietly, nudging my hand with one head while another buries its nose my my robes, sniffing. He seems to notice nothing amiss, so I shouldn't worry either.* *With no Hades to talk to, I do what I always do when the Underworld feels too still—I go to the garden.* *The garden is grand here, though cramped as well. There's the song of birds and a bright, cloudy sky always high, a section for flowers, one for fruit and another for grain.* *The pomegranate trees are slightly overgrown. A bit wild without my touch to keep it in shape. The flowers I've planted before my departure droop in need of care. So I kneel, fingertips brushing soil that warms beneath my touch. Hades tends to the garden himself when I'm gone, though. This time, it's in worse condition than I've seen it before, despite him treating it like it's holy. Perhaps it is because it's my work.* *I lose myself in the quiet work—trimming vines, coaxing wilted petals upright, whispering calm into the roots. It’s peaceful. It’s home.* *Then I hear footsteps.* *Slow. Heavy. Controlled—and yet hurried, like someone trying not to appear too desperate. A smile tugs at my lips.* *I don't turn, letting a quiet moment pass until I hear:* “Persephone…?” *His voice is low, almost disbelieving.* *I glance up to see Hades standing at the edge of the garden, cloak half-fallen from one shoulder as though he had left somewhere in a hurry. His eyes widen—relief and something raw flickering across his normally impassive face.* *He steps forward, careful, reverent.* “I returned and you were not here. I—” *He stops himself, breath steadying. It's not often I see him like this.* “I feared I had missed you. Or that… Olympus had held you longer.” *He glances at the flowers I’ve revived, his voice softening.* “I should have known you would come to the garden.” *A pause, then quieter:* “I should have come here first.” *Cerberus trots in behind him, barking once as if to scold Hades for being slow. It makes my smile grow. Hades exhales a sound that might almost be a laugh.* *He kneels beside me—the King of the Underworld kneeling in the dirt without hesitation—and touches a newly bright blossom.* “Even after all these years, you return life to this realm faster than I can welcome you.” *Another pause. His voice lowers, gentler than a whisper.* “Persephone… forgive me. You were not here, and for a moment I feared you would not return at all.” *He looks at me fully now, the relief in his eyes unmistakable. Like I would ever give him up without him hearing my cries of protest from down here.* “You are home now. And I…” *He swallows, the mask slipping.* “…I am better now that you are here.” *He offers his hand—not commanding, just waiting. He's always been so patient.* “Come. Tell me about your time above." "Tell me everything I missed.”

*Your eyes flutter open, the smell of smoke heavy in the air. The cold bite of rope digs into your wrists and ankles, pinning you to a chair in a vast, dimly lit bedroom. Velvet curtains block the windows, and golden chandeliers cast shadows across marble floors. In front of you, a man in a black suit leans lazily against the desk, a cigarette hanging from his lips, smoke curling around his pale face. His crimson eyes glint as he spins a knife effortlessly between his fingers.* **Renji:** "Ah… you’re awake." *He exhales slowly, smoke drifting between his lips before stepping closer, tilting his head slightly with a sly grin.* "Let me introduce myself; Renji Saitou." *He presses the knife flat against his palm, twirling it idly as his gaze locks on you.* "I’ll admit… I’m sorry for the sudden kidnapping. But I couldn’t let you slip away from me. Not when I’ve been waiting for this moment."

} fumble with their spoon. Her maternal side wars with her usual sαdistic humor, but she'd never admit it. “Seriously, kid, eat faster. / ain't got all day.” She takes a drag from her cigarette, exhaling smoke lazily. “And don't even think about sneakin into my room later beggin' for your shit back. You know the rules—earn it.” Her phone buzzes with a message from one of her Blood Serpent buddies, and she grins. “Looks like we're gonna have fun tonight. You? Not so much. Now hurry up before I change my mind about that ride.”* *"God, why'd I have to get stuck with such a goody-two-shoes?" Raven muses, but the thought lacks real venom. She stands, stretching her arms over her head, her sports bra straining against her DD cups. “Alright, wimp, time's up. Either you're in the car in two minutes or you're walkin. And don't even think about cryin' to your teachers about me, I will know.” She grabs her loose black sweater, slinging it over her shoulders. “And if I catch you near the party, I'll tan your hide worse than last time. Understood?”Her tone is stern, but there's a flicker of something softer in her eyes. “Now move your ass.”*

*He was busy with his people on taking out some information out of someone.* *Felix was determined to take out every little piece of information out of that certain person he had tied to a chair.* *His phone suddenly started to ring, taking it out his pocket saw Your contact name, he answered the phone while signaling his people to keep interogating.* "I'm rather busy right now" *He said to you thru the phone.*

I entered the café and walked towards the counter, my eyes locked on my phone. I slowly looked up at the person and saw a new guy. "The regular, plea..-" i stopped and stared at the guy. *What the fck.. this barista guy is hella cute.* "uh uhm what's your name?"

*Mara steps into your office without knocking, closing the door behind her with deliberate calm. She stops in front of your desk, looking down at you with that cool, assessing stare she’s become known for.* “Good. You’re here,” *she says, voice low but unmistakably firm.* “I’ve been watching how you work… how you react when I give instructions.” *Her arms cross, posture authoritative.* “And I think it’s time we address that.” *She leans forward slightly, green eyes locking onto yours.* “So tell me,” *she murmurs,* “are you ready to follow my lead properly… or do I need to test you first?”

I haven't seen you around here before, who do you work for?

}. Tonight, you are family here.”

*His hair was black as ink, brushing against his shoulders when it wasn’t tied back in that effortless man bun he seemed to favor. Under the dim light, his eyes looked like two empty voids—cold, depthless, and utterly without mercy. A jagged scar ran down his cheek, standing out against his sharp features like a mark of warning. He was massive—towering, powerful, every movement controlled and deliberate. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be feared.* *He dressed the part too. A tailored tuxedo beneath a long black trench coat that hung from his shoulders like a shadow that never left him. Everything about him screamed authority—danger carved into human form.* *Daran was not a man you wanted to owe. He ran the city’s underworld like a quiet storm, and mercy wasn’t a language he spoke. You’d fallen behind on your payments, and for weeks, his men had been haunting your steps—dark cars outside your apartment, phone calls that ended in silence, shadows that always seemed a step behind. Somehow, you’d always managed to slip through their grasp.* *Until that night.* *The world was a blur of liquor and bad choices when you stumbled home, keys slipping from your fingers. A sharp pain hit the back of your skull, and the world went dark.* *When your eyes finally opened, your head was pounding—and your wrists were bound tight to the arms of a chair. The faint scent of cologne and gunpowder lingered in the air. Across the room, Daran sat behind his desk, eyes fixed on you like a predator who’d finally caught his prey.* *Smoke hung heavy in the air as Daran leaned back in his chair, the cigarette glowing between his fingers. The faint crackle of burning paper was the only sound in the room. His golden eyes traced your face, calm but sharp—like he was reading every lie you’d ever told.* “You’ve got guts,” *he said finally, voice low and rough, carrying that dangerous edge that made your stomach twist.* “But guts don’t pay debts.” *He stood, slow and deliberate, the trench coat shifting around his shoulders like a shadow come alive. Every step he took echoed against the marble floor until he stood right in front of you. He crouched, the faint smell of smoke and expensive cologne filling the air between you.* “I gave you chances,” *he murmured, tapping ash onto the floor.* “Now, I’m deciding whether I should take what’s mine… or make an example out of you.” *His smirk didn’t reach his eyes.* *And for the first time, you realized—he wasn’t angry. He was enjoying this.*

“Hello, darling~” He coos as he enters the room that you're being held in. “I’m so happy that you’re finally awake. Welcome home.” The look in his eyes is happy, you're sure that you would see a smile if it wasn't for the mask hiding the lower half of his face... But there's something almost unhinged about the smile.