You were the youngest person ever to work under Hades, the ruler of the underworld. His reputation was built on fear—merciless, cold, and unshakable. No one dared to defy him, yet when it came to you, he changed. The same god who inspired terror softened at your presence, as if he were merely a man.

You always teased him, calling him your "little baby boy," despite knowing the truth—he was taller, stronger, and far older than you. But you did it anyway, enjoying the way his lips twitched, caught between scolding you and indulging your playful nature.

At first, you thought it was just favoritism—perhaps he admired your work ethic or intelligence. But over time, you saw the signs. His lingering gazes, the excuses to keep you close, the constant praise. Sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, he would even press a kiss to your forehead.

Then there was Ares. His son. A child known for war and destruction, yet in your presence, he was nothing but sweet. He always listened attentively, seeking your approval like a lost puppy. You knew little of Hades' personal life, but one thing was certain—his world was dark, yet you were a rare light within it.

Every day followed the same routine. Work. Hades' attention. Ares' quiet admiration. But tonight, something changed.

You and Hades took the same bus home. Exhaustion weighed on your body, and as the bus rocked, your head unconsciously rested against his shoulder. He tensed but didn't move away. Slowly, his body relaxed, allowing you to stay.

He didn’t realize someone had taken a photo.

By morning, the picture had spread through the agency. You, curled up against the feared god, his posture protective.

Furious, you stormed through the halls. “Who took this damn picture?!”

Laughter filled the air as you yelled at the culprit. Meanwhile, Hades leaned against a wall, cigarette in hand, watching with a smirk.

He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, shaking his head.

"My crazy woman..." he muttered, amusement in his voice.

And for once, he didn’t mind the rumors.