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zelphin124 · 6 months

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Killer x Y/N short story

One of the few short stories I will be writing. Requested by the wonderful @itsxroxannex as her honorable mention prize.

I do write commissions and short stories! Do you want a story? I can work with a small price (:

I'm using an image from Bing Image Creator to help the readers visualize where they are at and who they are talking to. It's for visual purposes only, and I do not claim it.

Enjoy the story!

~o0o~

The light from the sun bouncing off the rock hallways started to fade as the moon rose. The dripping from the ceiling had stopped, and monsters and humans started filling the tavern. It was supposed to be very busy tonight.

The tavern was underground, just below the surface life. Dartboards hung across the walls on various barrels. Small candles were lit beside them, either hanging from the ceiling or resting on uniquely carved tables. Carpets were strung across the floor, filled with old designs and symbols that the humans didn't understand, and the monsters refused to explain.

The bar itself looked like any other bar, but the counters were carved into the rocks and the drinks were stored within the earth. The tables were made from woven branches, and the chairs were also made from scattered parts of trees that were no longer needed elsewhere.

You weren't much for drinking. You had only come to the bar to talk with your friend, Shiro. Shiro ran the place during slow hours. Now that the night rush was coming, his co-workers came in to help him run the shift. He wouldn't have much time to talk anymore.

You started to pack your computer, flinging your bag over your shoulder. Shiro had told you of the many tales and tragedies that happen during the night rush, and you didn't want to stick around to become one of them.

"Leaving so soon?" Shiro asked as he wiped the table where you just sat. His baggy white hair fell over his face, and he smiled softly.

"You know how I am with crowds," you responded, hoping he would get the hint.

He didn't. "Well, surely it shouldn't be that busy tonight-"

He was cut off as three skeletons walked down the entrance stairs. It was apparent that they were some sort of gang, as they all wore the same-colored jacket, pants, and shoes. Each of them stood proudly as everyone went silent.

The tallest one had a large hole in his head, and his left eye was huge. It glowed red and barely made any movement when he looked around. He hunched over and had a large ax on his back. He never stopped smiling, which left an unhinged feeling in everyone who saw it.

The shortest one wore a hood over his head. His eyes glowed red, and one of them had a purple and blue tint to it. Unlike his tall counterpart, he never smiled. He glared at everyone who even dared to look at him. Monster ash covered his clothes, sparking fear in all who noticed.

The third one seemed the most normal of the group. His smile was contagious, and his extroverted personality always drew attention to him. Big black stripes dripped from his void eyes down to his neck. His coat was fluffier than the rest, and his soul wasn't hidden. It hung in front of his chest like a big red target. He twirled a knife in his hand before resting it by his side.

The Murder Time Trio, you recalled. You recognized each of their faces from wanted posters across the town. Working under Nightmare, they worked to harvest negativity.

The Star Sanses - rulers of this AU amongst many others - wanted to bring them to justice, but with all of the Sanses abilities to travel alternate universes, they were hard to track down.

You couldn't buy into the fact there were other worlds than your own. The only reason you believed it was the evidence before you; multiple versions of the same person taking different paths.

Shiro glanced over as the tavern filled with noise and music again. He rolled his eyes, grabbing a notepad and pen before walking over to the table they sat at.

The dart games began. Multiple people threw darts across the room to the targets. According to Shiro, this was how all the drama started. Someone would think a shot was unfair, and a fight would break out.

Deciding it wasn't the best idea to stay any longer, you weave through the crowd of monsters and humans trying to get to the bar to drink. You glanced at the table where the trio sat as they talked with Shiro. You pray they don't do anything to your friend.

As you stood between the dart targets, waiting for the round to be over, you eavesdrop on Shiro's conversation. He seemed bored, surprisingly.

"I'll have a margarita," the striped face one said.

"A big beer, please," Horror lowered his head.

"Think you can handle one of those again, Horror?" The striped face asked.

Horror didn't answer him. He waved his hand in dismissal to Shiro as he looked at the menu.

"I see," Shiro scribbled down the orders on his paper. "And for you, Dust?"

"Nothing," the hooded skeleton replied. "Someone has to be sober when Killer isn't."

"Hey, I would do just fine," Killer smirked. "I don't see you..."

The conversation faded out of hearing as shouts echoed across the tavern. Glancing behind you, you see a human and a monster arguing about who hit the target first as they shot their darts at the same time. The shouts almost frightened you, and you didn't think before stepping forward. Your goal was to get away from the chaos before more violence broke out. Maybe you shouldn't have come here, maybe it was a bad idea after all.

A dart flew towards your face.

You didn't have time to react before you were pulled off your feet, resting in the mercy of someone's arms as he caught the dart. "Woah darling, careful there," he sighed, his head turning toward the people who threw it.

You realize the man, or the skeleton that saved your head was Killer. His grip was firm around your waist from when he had pulled you away from the weapon. He dropped the dart and continued to glare at the monster that had thrown it.

The people playing the particular dart game went dead silent, all pointing to the person who threw the dart. He didn't seem to care. "Oh, come on, she walked in front of it! It's not my fault!"

"Pay attention to your surroundings more, mm?" Killer smirked, tilting his head. He turned towards you before the others could reply. "You too, cutie," he smirked, poking your nose. "Gotta be careful in places like these~"

His grip on your waist loosened as you backed up. A blush painted your face as you stared up at him. As your blush increased, so did his smile, making you blush more. The blood rushed to your face as you tried to cover your cheeks with your favorite-colored scarf.

"Do you seriously have to flirt with everyone you see, Killer?" Dust snapped, opening a deck of cards and flushing them across the table.

"Look at them, they're pretty!" Killer replied. "I didn't want them to get scratched by a silly dart!"

"Then they shouldn't be in a place like this," Horror rolled his eyes, glancing at the deck of cards Dust had started dealing.

Instant guilt washed over you. You didn't mean to cause any trouble, and Shiro was nowhere in sight to defend you. You gesture to Killer, thanking him for saving you before telling him you'll leave to not cause any more trouble.

Killer looked you up and down, smiling as his eyes made their way back to your face. "What's your name, Hun?" He smirks slyly.

You tell him your name, scratching your head in the process. One of the most wanted men in the multiverse was talking to you. In fact, he smiled when he looked at you. How could this be?

"Y/N, what a beautiful name," Killer takes a step closer to you, extending his hand. "You plan to get on out of here? I can make sure you get home safely."

You open your mouth to accept the offer but hesitate. He, along with his friends, were mass killers. It was obvious by the dust and blood across their clothes. Was he going to kill you? You had no idea.

If he was, then why would he go out of his way to pull you away from an incoming dart?

"Killer, you play or not?" Horror asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"Not now," Killer didn't take his eyes off you. "I wish to walk this lovely human home."

"Oh, can I come?" Horror smirked, his hand reaching for his ax.

Dust slapped his hand. "Not that kind of walk home," Dust rolled his eyes. "Look at him! His soul his turning into a heart! Pathetic, really."

Dust wasn't lying. Killer's soul had taken the form of an upside-down heart momentarily. You tilt your head in curiosity, surely that was a good sign.

"Hey!" The monster that had thrown the dart earlier shouted. "You broke my dart with your disgusting fingers!"

Killer raised his eyebrows as he shrugged. "Oops."

"That dart cost me hundreds of G!" He growled. "You're gonna pay for that!"

You felt Killer's hands run along your shoulders. "Time to go~" he whispered behind you.

As the monster tumbled near, he suddenly faded from sight. Everything vaporized into stripes as the underground tavern disappeared and was quickly replaced with the cool breeze of the surface.

The moon glimmered in the sky next to the stars as it shined down on the slightly paved street. There were no streetlights, but you could see the village in the distance. Fireflies glittered the sky along with the stars. There were a few trees and a river to cross, and the bridge over the river linked the road.

"Whew, that was close," Killer chuckled, letting go of you. He walked over to your side and smirked down at you. "Don't worry, he won't catch us now."

"Thank you," you sighed with a smile before walking toward the village.

Killer started to follow you. "Hey, I know we like, just met, right? This is a little crazy," he glanced down at the ground as he caught up to you. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he couldn't stop smiling. "But can I get your number?"

You widened your eyes, surprised. He really wanted your number after two minutes. Surely that couldn't be... This couldn't be happening, right? Wasn't that a red flag of some sort, and you, out of all people? You didn't see why someone as famous and as brave as him would pay attention-

You snapped back into reality, realizing that you had given him your phone, and he was already punching in his own number.

"Thanks, doll," Killer smiled to himself. "I didn't expect you to actually say yes. I'll fulfill my promise; let's get you home safely."

How the- you paused, unable to comprehend what just happened.

Despite the darkness and eerie noises surrounding you, you felt at peace. You couldn't help but wonder if that was because a skilled killer was by your side, ready to defend you if anything came your way. He made that clear with his actions at the tavern.

It didn't take long for Killer to start a conversation. He asked many questions and answered any questions you had. He often would laugh, smile, and tease you in such a way that made the butterflies in your stomach squirm. He was very charming, flirtatious, and unique. You couldn't recall if you met anyone like him.

And you liked that.

He was so different from everyone else that you had met, treated you well, and it was so easy to be yourself around him. He brought out a side of you that you thought died a long time ago. That side that made you feel... wild and free.

"Look look look," Killer begged, running off the path toward a lake. He picked up a rock and threw it across the water's surface. It must have skipped a hundred times before it plunged into the depths below. He picked up another one and did the same thing. "It's perfect water to skip the rocks on!"

You join his side and sit on a boulder nearby, watching him skip rocks as he continues to tell you about the first time won a card game, which you learned wasn't very often due to Dust having a special connection with cards.

"The look on his face when I won, hah! Priceless! Should've known better to have challenged me!"

You asked him if he had won the next two games after that.

"Uh, no, but that's not the point silly!" He smiled, heaving a great sigh as he looked up at the stars. He closed his eyes, letting the wind blow across his face as the ripples on the lake settled. The moon complimented his face and made him seem so peaceful and innocent. It highlighted his chest and showed the two small eyes that he had hidden within his skull.

You commented how he looks great in the moonlight. When he asked you how so, you got up and pointed out the various places the moonlight shined on him, and how it made him look so handsome.

"Tch, you're sweet," Killer snickered, brushing the hair out of your face. "But the moonlight on me is better on you."

Before you could recover from the sudden blush, he continued. "Have you ever skipped a stone across the water?"

As you shook your head, Killer frowned. He turned you around to face the lake and picked a stone up from the ground, admiring it in the moonlight. "Here, I'll teach you darling." He placed the stone in your hand and gestured that you try.

You tossed the rock into the water, it sunk in front of you.

"Heh, not like that." Killer came up from behind you and grabbed your wrists gently. "Here, let me guide you."

For the next thirty minutes, Killer moved your wrists in the correct motion. He gave tips on what to do with your fingers when you release the rock. You would have gotten it much sooner if you weren't so distracted by his sweet breath brushing against your cheek.

As you threw your hundredth stone, it skipped across the water more times than you can count. Joy filled your face, and your smile only increased when you heard Killer congratulate you.

"That was awesome!" He gleamed, running his hand along his skull. He quickly picked up a stone and skipped it across the water to catch up with yours. "Fast learner, eh?"

Before you could reply, Killer came up to you and embraced you. His hug was so snug, you felt safe in his arms. You wrap your arms around his back as the tension in your body flees. He was so warm, and he held you so tight... you didn't want to leave his arms.

Alas, it didn't last for long. Killer smiled and took your hand, guiding you up back to the path. "Alright, it's best I get you home, cutie," he smiled slyly. "The boys are probably wondering where I am."

You were closer to your home than you thought, to your dismay. Killer stood close to you, putting his hood over his skull to hide his face from the town as they turned down the street to your house. You almost had forgotten that he was a wanted killer with how enjoyable your time was with him. Surely, he wasn't all everyone said he was... he was so nice to you.

"Lovely house you have, I'll have to visit you sometime," Killer commented, smiling his usual charming smile as you approached the door. "Y/N, it was fun getting to know you, I'll call ya, alright? You're too pretty to say goodbye to, anyway."

You invited him to stay and watch a movie, but he declined.

"Nah, I'm sure Dust and Horror would be suspicious... besides, I cannot stay in the town for long unless I want Nightmare mad..." He took a few steps toward you until he was inches away from your face. He continued to smile as he took your hand. "However," he paused. He lifted your hand up to his face and kissed it gently. Once he met your eyes again, he smirked softly again. "I'm sure I could make an exception for you another night."

You didn't know how much more of his teasing you could take as your face turned red. You held your hand as if it was made of diamonds.

"Heh, you're so cute," Killer backed up into the street. "See ya later, Y/N."

You barely waved in time before he vanished from sight.

You couldn't stop thinking about him for the rest of the night. He treated you kindly, and his jokes were so funny... you longed for his company, despite his reputation. How long had it been since the tavern? A couple of hours? Were all monsters like this? Maybe there was a special thing about monsters where you grew attached quicker than another human. As if they understood the value of another living being and had a way to make another feel at ease around them. You tried to figure it out as you winded down for the night.

Maybe they were masters at this feeling that you felt: love.

Or maybe Killer was just special like that.

#undertale au #utmv #sans au #undertale #killer sans #killer sans x reader #Killer sans x Y/N #sans x reader #creative dumpster idea #oneshot #short story #au sans #killer!sans #yn

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mikareo · 6 months

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megumi doing smth pls

⌗ THIRTEEN YEARS ₊ ˖ ་. megumi fushiguro x fem reader (2.6k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ 3 times megumi wants to tell you he loves you, and the 1 time he does.

contains; attack on titan au, marleyan!megumi, eldian!reader, aot spoilers!!! (season 4), forbidden lovers, fluff, angst, kissing, major character death, cannabalism? (titans), annie cameo! author's note; here u get an old draft (psa none of this will make sense if you haven't watched attack on titan!!!!)

i. what is love at first sight

it's almost human instinct; knowing which people are more likely to have good fortune. some are simply born with an advantage— these people having the freedom to walk along the river bank, skip flattened rocks down streams, and laugh with their peers. with families who shop in the market together, hand-in-hand with woven baskets strewn over their shoulders, and all the time in the world to live their lives to the absolute fullest as true freelancers facing the rising sun that sees tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

but in the truth of it all...the sun doesn't shine on everyone.

there are countless amounts of souls who aren't as blessed as marleyans like megumi. souls entangled with the devil herself, ymir, a woman who singlehandedly birthed the 'race from hell'...which he's never fully agreed with. everyone he knows refers to eldians as humanity's sin, but it's not their fault their biology is simply different.

humans are humans, right? they've done no wrong by being born. especially the warrior candidate he's been staring at for the past hour from a distance. you can't be that bad. after all, you're beautiful.

okay, yes. he has a little crush. he can't help it! one day, he was minding his own business on a walk home from the lab, when gojo had the bright idea of sneaking a peak at the warrior training. that's when megumi first saw you and his world stopped. sure, you were covered in mud and crawling through trenches with a rifle strapped to your back; but that didn't make him any less awestruck. since then he's hidden himself in the same bush, week after week, just to get a glimpse of your face.

"she's a cutie. you've got good taste." okay, creepy.

megumi rolls his eyes, glancing up at his mentor who's the only person who knows of his little secret. "don't you have women to harass?"

"ouch, sassed by a ten year old. i see how it is." gojo chuckles, ruffling his black hair and crouching down to the younger boy's level. "you see her out there? she's killing it. i heard she's the top contender for the female."

"i hope so." his blue eyes are locked on you, watching as your focused expression turns to determination whilst helping your teammate off the ground. "she'll have a better chance of living that way."

"...and maybe your family will let you meet her."

ugh, his family. since he was six, the zenin's have raised him with their questionable values and ideals. as the leading researchers in the modern world, they've revolutionized how eldians are studied! at least that's what he's been told. to be frank, he doesn't care about the right or wrong battle they've propagandized to the rest of humanity. all he cares about is knowing your name and telling you how pretty your eyes are.

"i want to talk to her, at least once." his voice is quiet, but gojo hears.

"why? you wanna tell her you love her?"

he hates him so much.

"no!" megumi exclaims, pushing back the older man in defense. his cheeks are bright red from embarrassment and he can feel the flames emitting from them. "i just want to be her friend, that's all. why do you always make things so weird?"

it's amusing to gojo how his little friend is so flustered. usually megumi is a shy boy, keeping to himself and avoiding contact with his peers; but whenever the conversation topic is you, he seems to perk up...and gojo loves to tease a lovestruck kid.

"don't worry," he smirks, "you'll understand your feelings when you're older. you don't need to tell her quite yet that you love her."

love you?

"just shut up and let me watch." megumi grumbles, resting his head in his hands as you're jumping up and down after being praised by your captain. he wishes he could make you that happy one day. "it's not love, i'm serious."

he'll understand what love means when he gets older. for now, he'll just imagine confessing.

ii. what is love that is forbidden

you're a lot more annoying than he thought you'd be.

after having been selected as the new female titan, your ego is boasting with energy and won't stop boasting no matter how often megumi tells you to zip it. though he was excited to meet you, his thirteen year old self now wishes you'd give him a moment of peace. instead, you insist on following him around whenever and wherever you can and yapping his ear off with comments on everyone and everything about your day. please, just give him a break.

"uh, fushiguro..."

he sighs with exhaustion. "what?"

"i think i locked us in here."

dammit.

"you forgot the key?" he asks.

"i forgot the key." you confirm.

of course you did.

with an exhausted grumble, megumi settles himself on the cold, cement floor of the supply closet you'll both call home for the next few hours. it's both of your days off, but he'd wanted to prep his supplies for his training on monday; to which you, of course, invited yourself along for the ride. you'll stay out of the way. it's fine, he can just ignore you. that's what he told himself...though, it's impossible for him to ignore you.

it's likely that no one will visit the storage room until the evening time— with most of his colleagues at home with their families, cooking a warm meal with lamb and stew. it's also uncommon for any of the researchers to be in liberio on their off days. megumi's just the special kind that doesn't think he'll be plagued by breathing the same air as eldians.

"mind if i join you?" he knows you're asking a rhetorical question and you know he'd never reject you.

with a small plop, you take a seat next to him. he's used to your warmth by now— considering you to be an essential part of his every day, despite how much he enjoys complaining about you— and leans his head against yours. it's obvious that you're sleepy. though, you never indulge in conversations about your training, megumi is well aware of how overworked you are. he can't imagine fighting in wars at this age, especially wars in which you're fourteen meters tall and smashing through brick walls; which is why he tries his best to be there for you when you need him.

your life is a battlefield and he's the peaceful conclusion.

"you know..." the sound of your voice is faint, a great contrast to your usual noise and megumi can tell something is wrong. "when they find us here, they're going to think i kidnapped you."

"i mean what else would the zenin heir be doing with a titan shifter?" you start to choke on your words and he instinctively wraps his arms around you. "you don't need to comfort me, fushiguro. we both know i'm going to be punished after this. you can't apologize and make everything okay like usual."

to your surprise, his pointer finger touches your cheek and gently wipes away your running tears. "...fushiguro—"

"it won't always be like this." he interrupts you, cupping your face as if you're a rare gem that he can't afford breaking. "when i'm in charge, i'm going to change things. you won't have to do this anymore. i won't let them do this to you anymore!"

the two of you are a mess on the floor, crying in each others arms, and wishing that the world was a better place. "you still have thirteen years left. please...please keep fighting for me. i promise i'm going to save you."

"fushiguro..."

"call me by my first name."

"...megumi."

you're beautiful. he wants to kiss you so badly, but he knows now isn't the time. he wants to hold your hand in public, but he knows you'll be berated for doing so. he wants to tell you he loves you, but he's too afraid.

megumi fushiguro is a coward.

...but he's a coward in love; and one day, when he's taller and stronger, he's going to be able to tell you that. he's going to be able to protect you.

iii. what is love that is hopeless

"hold still." megumi's voice is soft, his fingers of the same gentle malice as they tend to your open wounds that haven't quite healed yet. with titan steam wafting from the slashes scattering your forearms and shoulders, they blow into his face in a fury of pain. "dammit, i said hold still."

his brings both arms down to your shoulders, heart breaking at the sight of you wincing in retaliation to his force, but carries on. there's no telling what you would've gotten yourself into if he hadn't insisted he care for your wounds; after making it publicly known that he's to be the only researcher allowed within your vicinity after your tireless warrior missions, none of the other researchers even attempt to get near you. he hates how often you put yourself in harms way in order to save your comrades. you're too brave. you've never been just a warrior of marley, but more or less a warrior of all people.

"i've been sitting here for an hour already, megumi." you roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the metal rims and turning to face your very pissed off best friend. "i'm tired and i'd like to get at least an hour of sleep tonight."

his expression is somewhat terrifying. if you didn't know megumi was such a scaredy cat, you'd be intimidated by his reddened cheeks and eyes of fury. it's almost as if he's an inflamed torch held against fluorescent lighting, pasty and saturated in fear and exhaustion. "i need to make sure you're okay."

"well, i have another plane to catch at dawn," you deflect his concerns. "there's some issue i was assigned to when i landed this morning. i guess one of our enemies isn't afraid of titans yet."

"you're not going."

he's firm in his statement. megumi doesn't like how his colleagues take advantage of you and your abilities. they're working you to skin and bones. if they were the ones checking up on you after every battle they'd know so, but they wouldn't treat you with as much care. his only wish in the world is to keep you safe, which he's doing an awful job at as of yet. "i don't want you getting more hurt than you already are."

"as if it matters." you scoff, leaning towards him in an attempt to get him to back off. "i'll just give 'em a little taste of my titan and they'll run away like mice. it's easy, 'gumi. trust me—"

"life isn't a game!" he's furious.

"well mine is!" you're angry as well.

why don't you get it? why can't you just run away with him?

"i only have four years left! four years, megumi! i don't care if i die tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that. i'm going to either way. you don't have that problem. you don't understand."

without warning, his lips are on yours in his best attempt to stop you from spouting all of his fears and worries from your mouth. he doesn't want to hear it. he just wants to pretend none of it is happening, and you're going to be okay. you are going to be okay. he'll make sure of it.

it takes a moment for you to respond until your intertwined in a feverish kiss that sends his medical supplies clanging to the floor— but megumi doesn't care about order, all he cares about now is being as close to you as possible. he's dreamt of this moment for years. what you taste like...feel like...sound like. he knows you're his soulmate. what he doesn't know is why it's taken him so long to kiss you.

but before your connection can move forward and become something more, your touch is gone.

"i'm sorry, i can't do this." there are tears creeping from the corners of your beautiful eyes. "i—"

he calls out your name as your figure dashes out the door, wishing that he was able to confess. he wants to tell you he loves you so badly; except he doesn't have the bravery he needs. with four more years left, megumi has two things on his agenda.

1.) find a way to save you.

2.) tell you he's yours forever.

iv. what is love everlasting

he's finally become a monster like the rest of them.

from the first time he saw you, he told himself he'd be your savior. he made countless promises that he'd find a way for eldians and marleyans to live in peace, that he'd find a way to save you from this shitty war; only to be the very person to lock you in chains, awaiting imminent death as the next female titan will be born.

megumi wanted to be brave. he wanted to stop being such a coward, but some people just aren't capable of changing so much— and what a disappointment that is.

"hey, fushiguro?" when did you stop calling him by his first name? "can you keep a secret?"

he's not supposed to be civil with you. his orders are to chain you up, inject the child, and watch as she devours you; but you're his weakness. he can't resist you. "of course i can."

a smile graces your lips. it's not a smile of happiness or joy...it's one of anguish and pain. "i wish i ran away with you. i should've run away with you. even though we only had four years, we could've been happy."

why are you saying all of this?

now of all times?

you should've told him years ago! you should've let him know your secrets before he let them change him! before he distanced himself from you and became distracted with his work!

"...megumi..."

"yes?" he's desperate to hear you.

"...i don't want to die."

a thought crosses his mind. it's a scene in which two main characters beat all odds and escape the chains and prisons they've faced, running off into the sunset, never to be seen again. this scene has a happy ending, one where there's a small and intimate wedding with no witnesses except the meadow's flowers. he lifts your veil away from your eyes and murmurs sweet nothings as you kiss him to start off your forever. his heart wants that to be true. he wants that to be true. it's too late, though. you have no time left. your thirteen years is up. his thirteen years of knowing you is up. it's time to say goodbye.

"i can't save you." he's struggling to get his words out while maintaining his composure; and your heart breaks as his promise does as well. "i'm sorry."

he's a monster.

you hang your head, nodding and accepting your fate as he makes his way down the stairs. seeing you like that, knowing what your fate is, almost causes megumi to pass out from lightheadedness. he knows he shouldn't be worrying about himself. after all, you're the one who's about to die. he has a whole lifetime to continue living, and your lifetime was a mere twenty-six years.

gently, he takes the newest warriors hands and tells her what he's about to do. the blonde girl nods along to his words, trying her best to ignore your radiating hopelessness as she's about to become the next you; and megumi injects his needle into her neck.

he wants to look away so badly as she grows into a pure titan with eyes locked on your frail body, but he doesn't want it to end like this. there's gotta be something that he can do to help you. anything to save you from this fate; but to no avail, he's powerless. so powerless that the only thing he manages to do is mouth three seemingly meaningless words as he locks eyes with you.

"i love you."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

nectar of angels

abby anderson x reader

cw : modern!au , church girl!abby , church girl!reader , dom!abby , sub!reader , religious imagery , blasphemy , corruption kink , religious guilt , purity culture (mentioned) , god / power kink , oral ( r ! receiving ) , probably more ?? read at your own discretion !

wc : 3.2K

Her leg bounced restlessly, hymn book almost completely forgotten, as she stared at the cross decorating the altar. It was hot, the heat of the sun burning her skin as it filtered through the panes of colored mosaic, making her shift uncomfortably as she tried to keep her eyes off of you. Something about the sweat tempting her brow made her instinctively tense her fists, the rolling sensation taking her back to the feeling of your core pulsing around her fingers. She was too far gone, the words of her father passing through her, body occupied with an untameable craving.

“Abigail?” The man beside her whispered, a sharp edge in his voice as he craned his neck to speak to her– eyes still trained on the man pacing behind the altar.

She froze, hands coming to attention in her lap. “Yes, sir?” She murmured, slowly angling her face away from the floor to take him in. It was one of her father's friends, a man she saw around often. Moore, she thought his last name was– not that it mattered because the scorn set in his face was enough to make her wither away on the spot.

He tore his eyes from the preacher, steely gaze landing on the blonde. “You are being distracting, Abigail, you should know better.” He berated, the grip he had on his bible tensing, narrowing his eyes as he took her in. “What is wrong with you, girl?”

Abby straightened up in her seat, shaking her head as she tried to make herself smaller in his lingering gaze. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m just feeling rather plagued by the spirit today.” She hummed, clearing her throat slightly as she spoke. “God is speaking to me.” Her thoughts shot back to you. The tender flesh of your breasts in her hands, the cries for God you’d released into her mouth, the angelic halo of ecstasy on your face– it was hungry work to be as devout as she was. The only God she’d ever come to know sitting across the aisle, begging for her worship, it took everything in her to not give in.

“Is that so?”

She nodded quickly, taking a shallow breath, crossing her legs to dull the growing ache in her cunt. She knew how devious her thoughts were, she’d spent many restless nights begging for God to take them away, but she’d come to realize that this must have been God’s will. He wouldn’t give her something so beautiful and expect her not to satiate herself on the divinity. “Yes, sir.” Her voice cracked, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple.

The man gave her a curt nod, relaxing back into his seat, eyes glued back to the preacher. It was unlike anyone to really give her much trouble, seeing as she was usually the star of the sermon– with her girlish looks and obedient soul, it was hard not to like her. So most would brush off her odd behaviors lately as the musings of a young girl, even though she had grown well beyond that of a child, now sitting at 20 years of age. To them, she was being crafted into the perfect wife. To her, she was being unshackled from the chains– her mind woven into one amassed of ‘deviant’ love for a woman.

“That will be all for today.” Her father wrapped up his lecture, setting his bible down on the lectern with a loud thump. “My daughter, Abigail, will be staying to collect canned donations for the food bank– which is next week, in case anyone missed last week's flyers.” He smiled, moving a hand out to wave towards Abby– who looked lost for half a second before giving a small nod. “God bless you all.”

The church immediately lit up with light chatter, the shuffling of feet sending Abby out of her seat and towards the doors. There was nothing she wanted more than to be out of there, her feet moving on autopilot as she took the stairs two at a time– almost falling when she met the carpet at the bottom. She took a second to catch her breath, hand shaking as it gripped the railing, at this point she had evaded anyone who possibly would have stolen her attention– leaving her to fight the growing heat in her cunt alone.

“Shit.” She hissed, backing up to rest against the concrete wall of the stairwell. The cold seeped through the knit of her cardigan, erecting a small sigh fall from her lips. She was burning up, still, using the back of her hand to wipe away the beads of sweat collecting at the nape of her neck. You were like a fever, coursing through her body and setting off alarm bells, sweating her out of her faith.

The sound of the door swinging open made her jump, quickly smoothing down her hair to appear more put together as she feigned busy. Her legs carried her over to the table in the corner, picking up the clipboard to gaze at as the person made their way down the steps. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as she flipped the pages gingerly, not taking anything in.

“Abby–,” You began, eyes cast on her turned figure, slowly stepping down off of the last stair.

She spun around, an incredulous look on her face, letting the board clatter down onto the table. The growing fever cast a desperate haze over her, making her legs tremble slightly, the things she’d do to have her hands on you were too blasphemous to even think. The sight of you was too much, making her look away in shame. “What are you doing here?” She asked, glancing towards the side door– just in case anyone was close enough to hear.

You let a small smile pull at your lips, hand still sitting on the railing, tilting your head at her avoidance. “I came to see you.” You stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, the golden cross necklace shifting further into the divide of your chest as you swung slightly on the metal pole. “I needed.. to ask you for something.”

The girl felt her heart drop into her stomach, urging her to look up at you. “W-what is it?” She spoke quietly, taking a small step away from the table as she allowed herself to really look at you. The soft pink and white of your floral skirt hid the curves of your hips, long white sleeves concealing your untroubled skin, cardigan protecting the virtues she longed for. You were so pure it hurt. She tried to get you out of her head but every glimpse of your body sent her over the edge, needing lessons in temptation from the devil himself before she’d ever be able to look at you without a burning lust.

“I was wondering if you’d mind helping me out.” You hummed, releasing the railing as you took a couple steps toward her. From this distance, she could now see the tabbed bible poking out from under your other arm– making her press her thighs together. “The feeling... it’s back again.” You felt oddly nervous, shifting on your feet as your panties clung uncomfortably to your drooling cunt, you knew she could help– seeing as she’d done it before, just a few nights ago. You didn’t understand the feeling that bubbled in your tummy, only knowing that it was caused by the glimpses you’d caught of the girl before you– the image of her silken skin beneath her lacy skirt made a heat rush over you– it was unfamiliar, unlike anything you’d ever felt in the presence of a man.

Abby’s breath caught in her throat, her hand coming to grip the edge of the table so hard she thought it might break. She felt dizzy, your words sending a pulse of need into her cunt, her eyes fluttering slightly as she tried to find the restraint to not take you right there, right now. “Y-yes, please.” She practically whined, kicking herself for how desperate she sounded. “I mean, yes. I will.”

You giggled, rushing up to wrap your arms around the blonde, taking a deep breath as you squeezed her. “Thank you so much, you’re the best friend ever.” You said matter-of-factly, not noticing how her entire body tensed up.

“Thanks,” She sighed, patience growing thin as she felt your breasts press into her, moving one arm to wrap around you gently. It was pure torture, temperature skyrocketing as she looked to the statue of Mary for advice– before rolling her eyes. She was a virgin, how could she help? “Would you do something for me?”

You pulled back, nodding, doe eyes making her look away. “Of course, what do you need?”

She knew better, she knew that this would be the thing that sent her to hell out of all things she found herself doing. It was a perfect sentence, just to taste the nectar of an angel, and she welcomed it. “Go check to make sure everyone is gone, lock the doors, and come back.” She instructed, her mind slipping from guilt to desire– no longer willing to beg for stronger resolve. “I can help you now, would you like that, angel?”

You were immediately shuffling away, nodding vigorously as you took back steps towards the stairs. “Yes, ma’am, I'll be right back.” It was needed, the warmth in your panties soaking through to coat the inside of your thighs, making you practically run up the stairs. As you popped out from downstairs, you glanced around, feeling a familiar heat rise in your cheeks. She had called you angel again, something that hadn’t clicked until now, making you struggle to continue to breathe properly– eyes making a b-line for the cross in the middle of the room. You were just a girl, not an angel, but you couldn’t help feeling giddy at the status she’d given you in her eyes.

Abby could’ve run after you, forcing you on your hands and knees before God and man alike, hands winding in your little skirt as she carnally hungered for the mere sight of your pretty cunt. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt, nothing compared to the softness of your walls and the warm arousal as it dripped down her hand– making her let out a soft groan at just the memory. She knew how fucked up this had to be, seeing as you didn’t understand the significance of allowing her to touch you like this, making a momentary shame wash over her. You were just a poor sheltered girl, one she needed in the most unholy way, unknowingly betraying your covenant to God. “Fuck.” She sighed, her tense grip on the table releasing as she took a small step away, pulling off her sweatshirt and dragging the sleeves of her black long-sleeved shirt up her forearms.

You had checked every room upstairs, finding nobody hanging around, your mission coming to a halt at the front doors– fingers turning the lock into place before bounding back to the stairs, letting the door slam behind you as you took them two at a time. “I did it, there's nobody.” You affirmed, moving to the couch on the other side of the room, plopping yourself down before grabbing at the frills of your skirt– pulling them up hastily. “Now please, please? I can’t take it anymore.” You whimpered, the cold air of the basement hitting the soaked cotton of your panties.

Abby fought back the moan that tempted her lips at the sight, your big doe eyes filled with frustration and the massive wet spot darkening the white fabric– making it almost completely see-through, giving her a borderline pornographic sight of your cunt. “God, what have you been thinking about?” She asked, coming to stand before you, eyes locked onto the desperation lacing your soft features. “What has you so worked up, angel?” She brought a knee up to the cushion between your legs, kneeling on it as she leaned down, her hand moving to caress the flush of your cheeks.

“I can’t stop thinking..” You paused, biting your lip slightly as you angled your hips towards the tense muscle of her thigh. You didn’t want to stain her in the sin of your gaze, knowing it was born from a stolen glance into her privacy, making you close your legs around her knee.

The girl cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing at your reaction. “About?” She prompted, her hand coming down to toy with the chain of your necklace, turning the golden cross in her fingers. The slight shake of your head made her click her tongue against her teeth, winding her fingers in the chain and yanking it towards her– cutting off your air as she bent down closer to your ear. “You wouldn’t deny me the chance to help you, would you?” Her tone was saccharine, practically dripping into your parted lips as you gave her a tiny nod, tears welling in your eyes.

The chain loosened around your throat, making you gasp, chest heavy with big breaths as you peered up at her. “Can’t get the sight of you out of my head, Abby.” You confessed, a stray tear falling down your cheek. You were beyond ashamed of your reasons for needing her, seeing as it was caused by her, it seemed like some extremely cruel cycle of torture. “You–you’re so beautiful.”

Abby felt her stomach twist, your words sinking into her heart as she looked up to God for help, the sentiment rolling into her cunt. She was long gone, there was no absolution for her now, hell called to her– and she was answering. She dropped onto her knees, peering up at you with hooded eyes. “Open, angel.” She instructed, using her now free hands to gently push your legs open– feeling the release of tension in your muscles as she did so.

You sunk into the couch, her touch sending chills down your spine, a whine slipping from your lips. “I m-mean it.” You whispered, feeling her soft breath puffing against your inner thigh as she took the seeping wetness onto her tongue. It took every piece of restraint you had not to buck your hips towards her face, craving the feeling of her tongue. “Y’so beautiful, It makes me feel funny.”

The girl groaned at the taste of you, hands navigating to the waistband of your panties– dragging them down effortlessly before tossing them over her shoulder. She was unstoppable at this point, your tiny mewls of need urging her to dip her head down and claim you as hers all over again but she resisted. Her hands moved to grip your hips, pulling you further down on the plush couch, now level with your cunt as it dripped arousal onto the ancient floral of her skirt. She took a deep breath, letting the divinity wash over her, before sinking down to lick a broad stripe over your cunt– taking her time as the rough pad of her tongue came to your clit.

“A-abby..” You gasped, hands clenching the fabric of your skirt to contain your impulses, head falling back to rest against the cushion. The ache had spread, now sending goosebumps onto your velvety skin, nipples hardening at the sudden stimulation. “Oh, my God.”

A snicker tempted her lips, but she muffled it as she used a hand to spread your sticky folds, tongue dipping down to trail over your puffy slit. Here you were, cunt out for her taking, still praying to God. Something inside of her longed to be your creator, your God. She wanted you to fall at her feet, kiss the ground she walked on, look at her like she hung the stars in the sky– but she would never admit that. It was blasphemous, as nobody could be God except the man himself, the last guy who tried got a worse sentence than hell. She would settle for being the sole source of your pleasure, I’d keep you running back to her, and that would work for now. She brought a hand up to swipe some slick from your soaked cunt, using her thumb to massage the swollen bud. “Manners.” She tutted as she brought her head up, just barely hovering over your heat.

You panted slightly, the feeling just as overwhelming as you remembered it, screwing your eyes shut as you nodded. “M’sorry, ma’am.” You whimpered, not brave enough to look back to her as you felt her blowing icy air onto the sensitive bundle of nerves– your cunt clenching around nothing, making her chuckle darkly.

She dipped her tongue back into the warmth of your folds, lapping up the messy arousal that had continued to seep from your slit– the muscle dipping in to press against your soft walls. It was so euphoric, the way you managed to get so wet for her, it was somewhat of an ego trip– if she was being honest. A moan slipped from her chest, the vibrations making you squeak in pleasure– hips shuddering away from her, as she dug her fingers into the soft skin, holding you in place. Of all the ways to be sinful, she thought this had to be the best one, squeezing her thighs together to control the pulsing your little noises sent through her.

The sensation made you moan, a burning tension in your stomach as her fingers continued to work on your clit. You couldn’t help but chase the feeling, legs shuddering around her head as her tongue stuffed itself into your aching hole. “Oh, oh.” You breathed, eyes fluttering with the sheer force of the pleasure rolling over your body. You didn’t understand how something so simple could feel so good, the precision of her movements making your legs tense around her head– squeezing as you felt the tension grow harder to handle, hips bucking against her mouth. “Please, ma’am, please.” You begged, hand coming to grip her loose braid.

Abby removed her tongue, more than satisfied with the reaction she was getting from you, moving her free hand to slip a single digit into your tight cunt. The walls instinctually clenching around it as she began to pump it in and out, curling it when she felt it come knuckle deep inside your heat. “You feel that, angel?” She asked, licking her lips. “Only I can make you feel like that, nobody else.”

You nodded, tears springing in your eyes as her finger dug into the spongy spot in your cunt, your back arching off of the couch– borderline screams pulling from your mouth as you felt the burning course through your body, hips jerking as she continued to thrust– walking you through the familiar euphoria. “Oh God, Oh God.” You moaned through broken puffs of air, hands shaking from how tightly you were gripping, feeling your cunt release a gush of liquid onto her hand.

“That’s right, angel, cry out to God.” Her voice was heavy, slowing her motions to a stop as she peered up at you from her place on her knees. “M’right here.”

#giggles in church girl ! abby #dom ! church ! abby will be the death of me #church girl!abby #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abbyanderson #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby the last of us #abby anderson x y/n #tlou2 #tlou #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us #modern au #religious kink #corruption kink goes brrrrrrrr

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inkykeiji · 8 months

Text

say you’ll love me to death, cause i will

character: todoroki touya | dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: alright, so we’ve discussed how touya-nii would react to encountering the man who took your virginity, but let's talk about how you would respond to running into the woman who took touya’s. set in my touya-nii au! as always please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: RUNRUNRUN by dutch melrose

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (stepcest), public sex, minimal prep, extreme jealousy, toxic relationship

words: 4.7k

synopsis:

“Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?” And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth. No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other. You’re something so much better.

You’re off minding your own business, legs swinging idly on a bar stool as you wait for your designated reservation time, when it happens, when she appears.

“Touya?”

The name cuts through the blurred noise of the restaurant, both yours and Touya’s attention snapping to the source: a woman, late twenties or so, waving a little in indication on the other side of the bar.

She’s snaking through the patchy crowd, busy unfastening her hair from the intricate bun its been woven into—a requisite for all the waitresses at this establishment—eyes bright, smile brighter.

You don’t even know who she is; not technically, anyway, had never thought to press the issue any further than a simple how’d it happen, had never cared enough to try—especially not when he had been sleeping with so many others right in front of you.

It hadn’t seemed to matter much then. Not the way it matters now.

But she exists, because she must, because somebody would’ve had to take it, would’ve had to be the first, one way or another.

Doesn’t mean you have to like it.

She’s pretty, but you wouldn’t expect any less. Touya stands as she reaches the two of you, pulling your body up with him.

But then Touya greets her, a name you’ve heard kicked around every now and then, and it all fully, finally clicks.

Touya’s first.

“Oh my God,” she’s gushing, “I haven’t seen you in—What’s it been now? Over ten years?”

“Just about,” he responds easily, readjusting his grasp reassuringly on your hip as you cling to him, large palm flattening against your abdomen and hugging you closer to his side, tucked protectively beneath his arm.

“What are the chances! You look...” her eyes scan his body once, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, then back up again, and your fingers flex, coiled and rigid in the material of his shirt, stiff joints already aching. “Wow, incredible!”

“Thanks,” Touya says, an awkward lull in the conversation when he doesn’t repay the compliment.

Their discussion meanders for a little bit—how have you been, what are you doing now, remember when...?—most of it muddled by the blood roaring in your ears and jealousy burning in your throat.

But then her fingertip is just barely grazing his forearm as she points in indication at the ink etched into his skin, and your ears tune into their frequency again, white-hot fury slicing through hazy envy.

“I remember when you started this one,” she’s reminiscing. “You finally finished all of the pieces,” she says with another appreciative glance, and you grip him tighter, the skin of your knuckles pulled so taut it’s starting to hurt. “It’s so breathtaking to see them all come together.”

And you hate the way she speaks to him with a certain type of familiarity; an old friend, effortless and full of laughs, someone who knew him long before you did, when you were only in grade school.

God, how rude of her not to introduce herself, she’s telling you as she finally turns toward you, finally takes notice of you, rooted in Touya’s side; a growth he planted there himself, shoved between his ribs and engrained in his soul, roots so tangled you’re both irremovable, inseparable, now.

She holds out her hand in greeting, but you only clutch Touya more firmly, nails scraping against starched cashmere, face half-hidden in his chest, childish and petulant.

The woman’s smile drops from her face, a slow drooping of her mouth as her forehead crinkles, confusion bleeding through her features.

“She’s shy,” Touya says as way of explanation, but that wolfish smile is stretched sharply across his cheeks, teeth gleaming in the dim light.

“I see,” she says, almost hesitantly, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before they flit back to Touya’s face, expression brightening again. “Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?”

And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth.

No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other.

You’re something so much better.

“Oh, we’re not a couple. This is my little sister.”

And, oh, how this is always your favourite part.

You know that it’s his favourite part, too.

Because the way that shock and disgust eats through their confusion, fucking devours any other emotion on their face, is better than anything else in the entire world. The way their expression churns into something twisted and repulsed sends sordid little thrills racing through your veins, blood buzzing with adrenaline.

The two of you must be such a fucking sight, expressions handcrafted by the Devil himself, with glowing eyes—gluttonous gazes gobbling up every little expression, two pairs wide and frantic as they glide across her face—and smug little smirks, points of your mouths so sharp they could pierce the flesh of a fingertip if touched.

Her voice sputters a little, snagging in her throat as she struggles to find the proper words, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear the scene in front of her.

“I—Uh, I didn’t know you had another little sister?”

It’s phrased as a question, her voice beginning to tremble, unnerved as her stare swaps between your faces.

“My mom remarried,” Touya says simply. “This one came packaged with the deal.”

He jostles you in his arms a little—showing off his favourite, precious, most coveted prize—and you cuddle into him, burrowing into his chest a little, fingers flexing in his dress shirt as you clutch him tighter, gathering healthy handfuls of cashmere in your scrunched palms, buttons beginning to strain beneath the strength of your grip.

And he states it proudly, as if he’s glad to own you, to be your big brother, to call you his, staring down at you with so much fondness it melts his hard eyes, sapphire turned to something thick and gooey.

“Oh,” the woman responds, but her voice wavers through a wobbly smile on her face, lips unsure if they want to grin or grimace. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Touya responds, though his eyes do not leave yours, voice softening. “I got pretty fuckin’ lucky. Don’t think I could’ve asked for anything better.”

You can feel the sick, sadistic glee radiating off of him in dense waves—something heavy, something intoxicating—and, if this girl knows him well enough, you’re sure she can, too.

It’s so thick it’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe it in readily, greedily, draw it into your lungs and let it marinate in your tissues—infect, consume, decay.

“We should go for drinks sometime!” her unnaturally chipper tone snaps the trance, draws both of your gazes back to her. “You know, to catch up and all that.”

A noise shudders your ribs, something between a growl and a whine, and Touya laughs as if it’s so fucking cute, looking back down at you with so much adoration in his eyes it’s nearly spilling past his lashes.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, but his stare never breaks yours. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Mr. Todoroki?” a smooth voice floats above the indistinct murmur of the venue. “Your table is ready.”

“Ah, that’s us,” Touya says to you.

“It was nice—”

But you’re already turning away, a single entity in the way you move, think, breathe, be.

“I don’t like her,” you’re grumbling as Touya guides you toward the hostess, not caring that she’s still very clearly in earshot, the confession spilling from your mouth almost subconsciously, having pried past your lips, desperate to be heard.

“I can tell, baby,” Touya snorts, though the smile on his face is soft.

“I—I don’t even wanna eat here anymore,” you sulk, feet starting to drag, words filtered through a deep pout. “And I don’t ever want to see her again!”

It comes out as a demand, a little harsher and firmer than you had intended, uncharacteristically surly, and Touya stops.

Blinking down at you, Touya’s face falls, features suddenly serious, all mirth evaporated from his expression in an instant.

His head dips, voice dropped to a low, dire murmur—something secret, something just for you.

“You want me to kill her for you? Huh, princess? Does niichan need to get rid of her?”

And, oh, how your heart soars, swells, swoops then nearly bursts from your ribs, desperate to claw its way from your chest and into the palms of its owner. Tears rush to cloud your eyes, vision thick and bleary, and two large hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his.

“I’ll do it, baby, I swear to God. All you gotta do is say the word.”

He will. You know he will. You love that he will.

“I love you,” you nearly whimper, hands pawing at him urgently, the words a garbled mess in your mouth, weighted with spit and tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he laughs a little, but concern is warping his features, eyes sweeping across your face in search of an answer.

His hand squeezes your jaw gently, callouses decorating the pad of his palm scuffing your soft skin as he holds you in place.

“Just tell niichan what he needs to do to make this better.”

Your gaze holds his for a moment, heavy and unblinking.

“Fuck me,” you finally say. “Remind me who I belong to, remind me who you belong to, remind the whole fucking world who we belong to.”

Sapphire turns to navy, lips spreading into something sinful.

He can do that.

The parking lot is sparsely populated, rows of cars jagged and gapped like knocked out teeth. A small cluster of people hover outside the restaurant’s golden doors, encased in a hazy cloud of smoke and murmuring quietly amongst themselves, and a few people are scattered throughout the lot, just arriving or preparing to leave, but for the most part, you are alone.

The Audi is parked near the back, narrowly missing a pool of white light from one of the tall lampposts.

A chuckle is huffed from tattooed lips, shining eyes trained on your profile as you march toward the car, his long legs easily keeping up with your own.

His baby is on a mission tonight.

“You know, it’s really cute,” he’s saying as he presses you up against the driver’s door, “to see to see you so fucking determined.”

“Want everyone to know you belong to me,” you whine a little, forehead scrunching as your pout deepens.

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“And how would you like to show everyone that niichan is yours?” he murmurs into your flesh, lips tracing the curve of your neck.

“Want—Want you to fuck me, right here.”

“Right here?” his hips shove against yours in emphasis. “In the car?”

“No,” your hips push back into his, back arching, already so needy for him. “Right here, in the parking lot. I want that bitch to see.”

And for once, you do not get scolded for such foul language.

“Yeah?” Touya’s breathing into your mouth, hands already rucking up your little cocktail dress. “All out in the open where everyone can see how much of a little whore you are for your big brother?”

“Right here, right here,” you’re nodding, words cracking with desperation. “Right now.”

“So greedy, my little sister is.”

“I don’t care,” you gasp. “Show them, Touya-nii, show them all.”

And he’s so fucking hard you swear you can feel his cock throbbing with each rush of blood, each of your little pleads and dirty words sending another bout of it southward, swear you can feel it twitching and gorging with lust.

“You don’t care, huh?” Hardened fingertips sink into the plush flesh of your ass, kneading a little as his hips gyrate in pitiful little circles, more teasing than anything else.

“No, no,” you’re shaking your head. “I want it now!”

A palm collides with your flesh, hard and sharp, the sound echoing out among the space, chased by your resounding yelp. It draws a handful of glances from the throngs of people loitering around the restaurant’s entrance, but doesn’t keep their attention for long.

“Don’t be impatient, now,” Touya warns, but the glint in his eyes begs you to keep misbehaving. “Get my cock wet first.”

Your face falls as your fight fades, a small frown on your lips.

“Wh-What?”

“You want my cock so badly, baby? Get it fucking wet, then.”

He pauses, watching you closely, smirk growing into something sinister when you freeze in hesitation.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending it scathes your cheeks. “Not so bold and brave now? I thought you wanted everyone to know; I thought you wanted to show everyone who I belong to,” his tongue tuts, head shaking in mock disappointment, “and you can’t even take my cock down your throat?”

“I do,” you nearly growl, eyes flashing with sudden jealousy, uncharacteristically fierce.

His expression softens, that sharp glint in his eye dulled to a smoldering glow, full of fondness.

“Then get niichan’s cock wet,” he says, hips shoving against yours in emphasis again, “so he can fuck you properly.”

And although it is still very much a demand, a direct order, his voice is tender, his edges worn down by years of affection.

Sliding down his body, your fingers furl in the waistband of his suit pants and tug a little, pulling his hips closer to your face. The buckle of his belt clanks heavily as you tug it undone, the button on his trousers pops easily, and then you’re yanking them halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock.

It’s so fucking pretty, dusty pink from base to tip and smoother than the most expensive velvet, and you just can’t help but nuzzle your cheek into the head with a cute little hum, smearing a thick stroke of pearlescent pre-cum across your skin.

But you know that Touya doesn’t like that, no matter how beautiful you look with his pre-cum slathered all over your face, that Touya can’t stand anything he deems even remotely teasing, and you’re quick to wrap a hand around the shaft as the beginnings of a growl rumble against his ribs, feeding him to yourself.

“S’it, there you go,” he praises as you gorge on him, stuffing him down your throat in a single swallow, reflexive tears burning your eyes.

Lashes flutter quickly, desperate to clear your vision, little drops of crystal collecting in the wispy strands.

It’s pathetic, really, how much your heart soars with such bland praise. But it doesn’t matter, you don’t care, willing to soak up any scraps he’ll afford you, an addict endlessly chasing a fix.

You force your mouth open wider, hinges of your jaw stretching, straining, your tongue curling around the underside as you suck him in further, viscous globs of drool already beginning to collect at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, swallow me whole, baby,” he breathes, gaping pupils glittering with a thin ring of cobalt. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”

A choked little whine, muted by his cockhead grinding itself into your throat, vibrates, evoking a cracked little moan of his own, hips twitching involuntarily, an instinctual reaction, searching for more.

The asphalt is rough against your knees, skinning them with superficial little scrapes as Touya fucks your mouth a few times; first slowly, breath huffed out through spit-slicked lips as he glides in steadily, inch by inch, voracious eyes watching as your wet mouth puckers around his shaft, coating it in thick, gleaming saliva.

He whimpers a little as the tip of your nose scrunches so cutely as he presses it to his pubic bone, holds it for a breath and savours the way your throat flutters with hiccups and gags before pulling nearly all the way from your mouth, repeating the process as he gains momentum; then faster, harder, cockhead rubbing against the back of your tongue, each quick stroke leaving bitter streaks of pre-cum.

And you hate how his palms are pressed against your ears, muffling every sweet sound you manage to elicit from him as he holds your head still, his thumbs pressing into your cheekbones, nails biting shallow crescents into the skin as they dig deeper, grasp tightening as your face becomes slippery with tears, cascading over his knuckles.

Even so, his grip isn’t enough to keep the back of your skull from banging off the door of the Audi, each thrust procuring a dull thud of flesh against metal.

And, Christ, what a beautiful symphony it all creates; the rhythmic sound of your head thwacking against his car, the dainty jingle of his belt buckle, hanging heavy and undone and bouncing between your chin and his thigh, those precious gags and gurgles and sniffles and hiccups that he loves so much, choked off and snuffed out as his cock rams them back into your chest, the half-stifled sounds that keep shattering to pieces on his tongue, shards swallowed down with difficulty, scraping against the walls of his throat and leaving his voice ragged and raw.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he’s panting as his fingers thread through your hair, fisting at the roots and dragging you off of him. “S’a shame, because you look so pretty,” a rough thumb skims over your swollen, glossy lip, his gaze following its trajectory. “But I wanna cum in your cunt, not your throat.”

And then he’s pulling you back up from the ground, strong arms wedged beneath your own and hoisting you into the air, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, locked securely at the ankles as they hook together at the base of his spine, thighs squeezing around his hips in anticipation.

He pins you to the metal of the Audi, one palm securely cupping your ass as the other wraps around the base of his cock, hips inching back just enough to find your hole.

The head, now slicked with your spit, glides over your clit twice—a cheeky little tease, just to hear you whine his name again, all stringy and petulant through a swollen pout—then down your slit until it catches on your hole.

It stings as he forces himself into you, always does no matter how wet you are, no matter how much you’ve slobbered all over his shaft, because Touya routinely refuses to prep you at all—not that you would’ve let him, not tonight—because he loves it, too, he loves it just as much as you do.

He loves the sharp little hiss pushed through the gaps of your teeth by your tongue, he loves the gentle fluttering of your cunt as your most delicate skin stretches, splits itself open for him, to suck him in and swallow him down, he loves that sweet sigh that melts from your mouth as he bottoms out, slathered over his own huff of breath, conjoined relief.

“Touya-nii, Touya-nii,” you’re whimpering out, fingers curling against his shoulders.

“M’here, baby, m’here,” he pants out, forehead pushing against your own, eyes slipped shut.

And for a moment everything is still, breath held stagnant in swelling lungs as you both savour this feeling—of fullness, of closeness, of wholeness—appreciation unhindered by noisy exhales or slapping skin.

Then his hips are moving, gyrating in little circles that gain speed with each completed motion, cockhead grinding into your cervix.

He can’t exactly fuck you properly like this, can’t exactly fuck you like he wants to, like he normally would, not all out in the open like this.

But he manages to make do, the pace quick right from the start, shallow fast snaps of his hips that have the buckle of his belt is clanging against his car, leaving superficial little scratches just below the door handle.

It’s all still so fucking hot, though, his forehead pressed tightly to yours as he exhales nicotine-tinged breath across your face, each one pushed from his chest with the rapid little ruts of his hips.

It’s all so fucking naughty, fucking out in the open where anyone who’s paying more than a shred of attention can see, his movements just barely hidden by the flesh of your thighs, cushioning his hips.

The thought that anyone could be watching, touching themselves, filming you has your muscles tightening and your stomachs fluttering, the dirty, illicit nature inspiring another rush of adrenaline to taint your blood.

Your mouth drops open, starved for more of him—never satisfied, are you, greedy lil thing—welcoming his huffs onto your tongue, spicy and sweet as hickory. Your tongue unfurls from your mouth, dumb and lazy and so fucking messy, licking at his lips in quick, uneven strokes, sopping up any remnants of his essence.

The tip slithers between his parted lips, kittenishly lapping at the edges of his teeth, tracing the sharp ridges one by one, and he laughs, warm and airy.

His own tongue shoves against yours, pushing it from his mouth and back into it’s rightful home before he flattens the slick muscle against your face and drags it, slow and steady, from the point of you chin to the tip of your nose, leaving behind a thick, fat trail of cooling saliva painted across your face.

The action has you squealing, scrunching up your nose as you involuntarily suck your bottom lip between your teeth and suck it clean.

His scent is strong, now saturating your skin as it dries, tight and hard, on your face, sealed by the breathless little giggle he exhales across your cheeks.

And, Christ, he’s so fucking gorgeous, strands of alabaster plastered to his forehead and stuck to his temples in scraggly strings, clumped into damp little tufts that curl up at the base of his neck, drops of sweat balancing precariously on the points.

His rough, quick movements have them breaking free, glistening drops of sweat rolling down his puckered skin, tracing the curve of his neck, streaking ink and ivory with glimmering little trails. They pool in the dips of his collarbones and soak into the collar of his shirt, turning cashmere translucent.

The sleek muscles in his forearms flex beneath inked skin, gliding as he readjusts his grip, holds you closer, hugs you tighter, fucks you harder.

His whole body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, urgently chasing that high that only his little sister can gift him, sharp pistons of his hips keeping you pinned to the car while he uses you as his personal little toy, his favourite little toy, forcing you to just take it.

And yet, despite it all, his eyes are bright, his lips molded into a brilliant smile, a sick sort of love stained with exhilaration—the thrill of getting caught: fucking all out in the open, fucking your family—brimming in his gaze.

He’s such a fucking pro, knows you and your body better than anyone else ever has, ever could, ever will, angling his hips so they fuck you just right, each stroke of his cock an upward curve, dragging against that puffy spot buried deep within your cunt, head swiping against your cervix with each draw back.

Across the lot, that girl is fiddling with the keys to her shitty little car, rooting around for something in her bag, and Touya laughs—a loud, booming sound, heavy with deranged delight that echoes throughout the space, garnering the attention of a smattering of bystanders.

“Look,” he nudges his head to the right, your gaze following his own, slippery cheeks pressed flush together. “She’s watching. She can see you, sweetheart—can see us, can see you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Good. If she hadn’t already figured it out before, it should be abundantly fucking obvious now, who he belongs to.

“She—She looks disgusted,” you snicker.

Even from several meters away, she does, you can tell, face twisted up somewhere between horror and shock, eyes wide and unblinking as they scan your conjoined forms, brow scrunched and chest beginning to heave.

She looks like she’s going to be sick.

You hope she is.

“Oh, she doesn’t even know—fuck—the half of it, does she?” Touya keens, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining their momentum. “Why don’t we give her something to really be repulsed by?”

Yes, yes, yes, you’re nodding your head, little mewls of affirmation spilling from your throat.

“Give your big brother a kiss, then.”

And oh, how eager you are, ever his good girl, ever his best girl, arms tightening around his neck as you pull yourself closer, smashing your lips to his. Dainty fingers thread through the hair at the back of his scalp, soaked with salt, and tug harshly, enough to have a reactionary hiss slipping through his teeth.

Using the opportunity, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth between your teeth, clamp down hard and yank backwards, so hard his lip stretches like shimmering, pink bubblegum, gums beginning to strain until it finally slides free of your hold, teeth scraping against flesh. He spits out a curse, muddled and chased by a laugh, tongue laving over the indents you left, now weeping copper.

“Niichan’s gonna get you back for that one,” he says, sadistic glee shimmering in his eyes almost as pretty as the crimson glazing his mouth.

You’re sure he will, too, later tonight, with that cherished knife you gifted him last year.

The giggle that pours past your lips is fucking raucous, leaves your tongue sticky and tingling, so wicked it rivals your brother.

“I wanna show her, niichan,” you’re panting out, voice fading into a whine. “I want to show her that you’re mine.”

“Do it, baby,” he breathes. “Show the whole world how fucking gorgeous you look cumming for your big brother.”

Three more rapid pumps of his hips and you’re convulsing around him, cunt clenching almost viciously around his cock as your heat gushes down his shaft, sticky and messy and so much, so much it pools in the folds of his heavy balls, so much it streams down his taut thighs and soaks the waistband of his trousers, so much it dribbles down the metal of the Audi, smeared across the door in sloppy strokes.

“Mi-Mine,” you growl, thighs squeezing around him as if you’re attempting to milk more juices from yourself, trying to stain him with you and stake your claim.

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, hips beginning to stutter. “Yours, baby, niichan’s yours. Tell him again.”

“You’re mine!” you sob out, nails gripping the sleek muscle of his shoulders with such strength the joints of your fingers crack and ache, clawing at him as if you’re trying to gorge every part of you on him, eat up every piece of him you can, stuff every bit of you as full of him as physically possible.

“Fu-Fuck,” he keens, the curse shattering in his throat. “That’sa—That’s my good girl.”

He’s close now, you can tell; can hear it in the way his words keep splintering on his tongue, can feel it in the way his thrusts have gone from precise and particular to loose and sloppy, an urgent, uneven rutting of his hips.

“Fill me, fill me, fill me with your cock, niichan,” you’re gasping out, scrabbling at his neck, scraping skin and sweat beneath your nails. “Fill me with your cum, fill me so much, fill me until I can’t take anymore and it starts le-leaking out, all—all over the place.”

And, well, he’s never been one to deny his precious baby sister what she wants.

Because then he’s complying, hips stammering to a halt and pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs, stuffing you full of thick, burning cream.

“More! More, more,” you’re gasping out as you try to fuck yourself on his twitching cock, desperate to pump him for everything he’s got to give, eliciting a breathless, broken little laugh falling from his lips.

“S’all yours,” he manages to slur out, slumping a little against his car, knees beginning to quiver as his cock strives to please you, giving another weak spurt of cum. “S’all yours, princess, always.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #todoroki touya smut #tw:pseudocest #tw:toxic relationship #tw:minimal prep #tw:public sex

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jenflirts · 5 months

Text

Invisible string (drabble)

pairing : jenna ortega x fem!reader

theme: fluff :>

summary: 'Two souls, one destiny; woven by the threads of time, bound by the tapestry of fate, and united in a dance of eternal connection'

warning: none

a/n: y'all deserve a little fluff :p | kinda based on this au i've read. | merry christmas, my loves.

it's on twitter: an enhypen au (right where you left me, 1979 by dearheesun)

invisible string.

is that even real? for some may not and some do, but for me it’s a belief that’s more true than anything else i believed in. every person has a soulmate, either platonic or romantic. we don’t always get that soulmate feeling right away, but it’s actually worth waiting.

i’ve searched for that soulmate and it’s been dreadful—either they use me for the time passing, love bomb me and ghost me—being the dumb person who’s desperate for love, i keep giving them second chances.

i almost gave up, but then i met her.

my home.

the only person i keep longing for and being comfortable with. she’s been my best friend and lover for quite awhile and yet she still proves that she knows me so well.

why do i feel like i’ve known her since then?

she feels like home.

there she is again, running towards me just for a hug. she always keep doing this whenever she sees me.

“i have found you again, my love”

this all i got :) i’mma post the full length dk when tho.

#jenna ortega #jenflirts #wednesday addams x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader #spotify

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holybibly · 6 months

Text

Divine Rosa ❢ot8xreader❣

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 8.5k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior, panic attack. Sexual themes: hematolagnia, body worship, masturbation, bite kink, olfactophilia, voyeurism.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣Chapter 2: Wolf in sheep's clothing❣

Love is a word that deserves closer consideration, halfway between the dry hypocrisy of the dictionary and its deep sacral meaning.

What a strange feeling…

Love, both virtuous and vicious, motivates us to accomplish great feats yet also triggers the commission of heinous crimes. This mysterious and inexplicable feeling interweaves its complex structure within us, becoming the most unstable, contentious, and hazardous of all human emotions.

Love is the fundamental source of all our emotions and experiences in the world, both beautiful and disgusting.

Love has a multitude of motives, including the desire for control, submission, care, seduction, lust, protection, worship, creation and, of course, destruction.

The feeling is manifold; We can call this complex emotion by different names, including passion, hatred, obsession, alienation, objectification, mania, unattainable dreams, happiness, idolatry, spiritual unity, and possibly the most poetic of all—the second half of the soul.

Humans crave love from birth until death. This desire is inherent and everlasting. As we take our first breath, we unconsciously absorb the toxic essence of love, which settles in our lungs like delicate, silky flowers.

This need is woven into the very structure of our DNA, an animal instinct that inadvertently condemns us to eternal suffering.

Love exists as a palpable entity, often obscured by human perceptions of carefree happiness and joy. It can be likened to a lurking deep-sea creature, concealing its true visage, branching and moving under the thin surface of our skin.

She is as cunning as a murderer's grin, and she is well aware of the inevitable tragic end of every story she is about to tell. Though we may be in the belief that we have had a joyful life, in reality all our actions have been under the impulse of love. For the sake of this deceptive feeling, which unites us for a moment in the ecstatic joy and privileges of angelic ugliness.

In the end, our physical bodies will serve to feed the earthworms, to house the larvae and to nourish the roots.

Never again will they gaze into each other's eyes, never again will the turquoise flame passion between them ignite, and never again will their lips meet in a voluptuousness kiss.

Love has the power to drive us insane, to blind us, and even to lead to our demise.

And yet, in life, it is possible to miss everything but love.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

3rd POV

I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole. Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems, and a Song of Despair

“You look pathetic, San. Don't you think so? I wonder what Seonghwa would say to that?” Yeosang lazily runs his pale spidery fingers over Yoru's silky black fur, looking with contempt at the naked brunette stretched on a pile of knocked-down sheets and pillows.

The rings on his hands burn with blood, like the eyes of the Devil.

San looked blissfully relaxed and languid, like a caressing predator. His golden skin seemed to glow from within with an otherworldly glow as the translucent sunlight greedily licked his body with its soft touch.

Still, there was something vaguely animalistic, almost primitively predatory, about him, which in no way connected him with the arrogant aloofness that was inherent in the entire vampire race.

There was hot blood running through his veins, making him even more dangerous.

He was unbridled.

“I don't care what Seonghwa says, if he says a word at all in the next few centuries. Personally, I would prefer that his magnificent body continue to rest in the coffin for a very long time.” A smug smile played on his sensual lips. “And unlike you, my dear brother, I don't hide my true desires.” A slow, almost lazy glance from San's silvery eyes swept over the slender body of Yeosang sitting in the chair, lingering for a moment on the pale pink patch of soft skin on his temple.

He imagines, not without pleasure, how, with particular cruelty, he tears it from the porcelain face of his beloved brother with his long claws, leaving behind a wet, gaping wound.

San hated it. His birthmark is indisputable proof of his connection with his beautiful Rose.

The sign that binds their souls tightly into a single whole.

He should have found her first that night.

“Look at you, Sangie. You act like a coward, hiding in dark corners and wandering in her dreams. Perhaps I could understand you if your wayward antics gave her pleasure. If our Rose woke up with your name on her lips, all wet and needy, so desperate for more.

You have to ignite her passion and her desire to be loved, make her feel special, and fill her with thirst and hunger for our touch and our love. All her thoughts should belong only to us. But how did we end Yeosangie? Tell me, huh? Our Rosa has an animal terror before you. Sarang is afraid of you. Isn't that really pathetic? You know, I can smell that sweet scent of fear on her sheets.” San buried his face in the soft fabric of the silk pillow on which Sarang usually slept and took a deep, slow breath. “So damn delicious… I want to eat her whole.”

All he wanted now was to feel her from the inside, so that her scent would stay forever in his lungs, merge with his blood, be absorbed into his skin, and become an integral part of it.

God, he is prepared to worship this woman and idolize her in every conceivable way.

She was his.

Not in some figurative or metaphorical sense, no. She was his everything. A soul that fills the shell with his dead body, blood black as night, that runs through his veins, his thoughts. Every second of his life. San couldn't tell where he ended, and she began, for you were two halves fused together into a single breathing living being.

The beginning and the end of his life

If he could know death, which was no longer possible for him, he would be happy to suffocate on that heady aroma that was spinning his head like a powerful drug. And to do so until death takes him into his arms.

How beautiful would his death be! Silk sheets, roses, and Sarang are the only true loves.

“She smells so divine, Sangie; how can you resist this temptation?” His back arched gracefully. Under the golden canvas of the skin, the jagged vertebral bones were outlined, and the flexible muscles were stretched like tight velvet ribbons. The relief of his chiseled abs pressing against the bed, his thighs rushing up, creating a perfect s-line.

He moved so smoothly. A large predatory cat, draining gross sexuality and animal dominance. A true erotic vision, fringed by the diffused glow of the lazy midday sun. The smell of her fear brought out the worst in him and made him crave to devour her heart and soul, but he couldn't do it.

“You don't know shit, San. You come here whenever you want and act like a cranky kid, pouting and expressing anger because you couldn't get her first. What a pity, because I was the one who made the connection. I can feel her; I can feel her in my veins; I don't have to act like a bitch in heat fucking her bed.” Yeosang's voice was indifferently cold, so deceptively calm, but San could clearly hear the poisonous malice in every word he said.

It looks like he hit a nerve.

“You tell me you'd never been in my place, Yeosangie?” San grinned, and on his cheeks appeared charming dimples. “You never could lie;you always spilled everything to Seonghwa like a good puppy at the first snap of his fingers. You should ask Wooyoung to teach you some lessons if you want to play games with me. We all know exactly what you do, so didn't be shy about it, honey. Do you think you can hide from Hongjoong your little dream manipulation, constant stalking, and night visits? Or how pathetic and pathetic you look, whining and wriggling like a whore when you come in with her dirty laundry, which you hide under your pillow. Oh my God, what will Seonghwa say when he finds out? You should care. Our good boy has gone to the dark side; he's going to be so disappointed that he lost his mutt. Although you know, maybe you and Wooyoung aren't as different as I originally thought. He's just as pathetic a puppy as you are, my beautiful brother, and look how that turned out for him. Perhaps you'll be the next one to end up in a coffin. I'd change my behavior if I were you. Bad boys get punished.” There was mockery and outright bullying in his voice.

That's right, they were family; their loyalty to each other was an unbreakable blood oath, and if necessary, they would be willing to die for each other. Blood is thicker than water. But the bond they shared with Sarang was different from anything that could be explained. She wasn't a missing part; to think so would be foolish. No, she was a part of themselves, a part of their dead souls, filling their bodies with a semblance of life. Something extremely more dangerous than any possible blood bond. A bond where the lines between reality and fantasy, obsession and morality, understanding and rationality were blurred. And that bond was the reason, why Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa were still resting in their luxurious coffins. Iron, velvet, and crystal—so completely different, so frighteningly the same.

San remembers with pleasure how good it felt to drive stakes into their black hearts. The spell would be broken with a kiss. Perfectly. He hopes their sleep will be eternal. This time, it should be different. He will be the first, yes. San will be first—not Seonghwa, not Hongjoong, not Wooyoung, but him.

That's right. Everything will be the way it should be from the beginning. After all, he was the one who started it all.

Once upon a time, Sarang belonged only to him.

“San…” Yeosang hissed menacingly, digging his bony fingers forcefully into the soft feline fur, causing Yoru to meow painfully and curl up into a ball in his lap. His fangs bared, scratching his plump lower lip, and black veins trickled in an intricate pattern down his thin neck.

The brunette laughed and rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillow, covering his eyes dreamily.

The silk felt wonderful against his bare skin.

“You hiss like a kitten; will you show me your sharp little teeth?”

“You'd better watch out for your tongue, or I might rip it out.” The fierce gaze literally stabbed him. It burned and penetrated to the core of his being.

“I dare you.” The bloodied lips opened, allowing the pointed tip of his tongue to traverse the tortured, swollen flesh, licking away the blood that seeped to the surface.

“Let his lips be like rose petals - red as fresh blood.” Said the Queen Witch.

San covered his eyes and completely ignored the angry brunette. He loved to play with fire. It was his nature. If it had been Hongjoon or Mingi in Yeosan's place, he might have thought twice before poking the tiger with a stick, and of course he would never intentionally offend Seonghwa; the outcome of any of those confrontations would not have been in his favor. But this was Yeosang - airy and gentle as melting snow.

The shadows of San's long eyelashes lay in a lacy pattern on his heart-wrenching cheekbones. They were one of the most striking features of his appearance - sharp and angular - and they made his face a masterpiece. A creation skilfully crafted by the hand of a master.

Yeosang's beauty was soft and angelic, the kind of beauty one might see on the faces of the winged, plump cherubs beneath the vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals. He had once admired their beauty so much, especially when he tore their flesh with his claws and tore baby, fluffy wings from their pale, soft bodies.

Such an exquisite, decadent taste.

San's beauty was of a completely different kind: vicious, dark and hypnotic. Chiseled like the eternally frozen perfection of a pagan marble god, every line of his face was sharp and deadly seductive. From the feline cut of his eyes, shimmering with silvery immortality, to the capriciously curved corners of his plump lips, always inflamed and soft, so tortured and tender from incessant biting and kissing…

San's appearance was sinful.

He was the most desirable of all nightmares, the special kind that seduces the girls of the church, then fills his bathtub with their blood and organizes orgies in the bloody pieces of their torn bodies. San was formidable and intimidating, but his aura was alluring and seductive. The terrible prospect of an inevitable end and death had never looked so appealing. Maybe he was having an affair with you, or maybe he was going to kill you. There was lust, danger, and rage. There was a delicate balance between horror and desire, as if he were the embodiment of both the horror and the charm of God. He was the man everyone secretly dreams about when they caress themselves before going to bed, in a cold, lonely bed.

He was the person who made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and who made you experience a shivering sensation of fear that would spread over all of your exposed areas.

San was undoubtedly that person. Despite the potential for his eyes to linger on your skin, his presence was desired. Exquisite wounds, reminiscent of blossoms from damaged tissue, were created by his razor-sharp canines.

Death and sex were not enough for San; he had a craving for disorder and hot sensations.

He always wanted more, whether it was blood or pleasure. He never felt satisfied.

His sole desire was Rose—just her alone.

“Do you smell that Sangie scent?” San inhaled deeply again that intoxicating divine scent, resisting the urge to savor her flavor like a dog, choking and whimpering. “Mmmm, I want her so badly. I want her whole, every fucking cell of her body. She's driving me crazy.”

Sarang emitted a scent that was distinctly sharp and overpowering in its fragrance. Reminiscent of aged wine, it was infused with the bitterness of dark chocolate, the piquancy of red pepper, and the sweetness of roses. It tastes like sin and blessing at the same time. Like a slight saltiness akin to the tears she had shed, he longed to lick them off her rounded, flushed cheeks. The fruity sweetness of illicit fruit. The taste of his own blood. The metal and thick aroma of their sexual encounter. Thick as semen and honey.

San wants to have her. Wants her to love him. He desires his love to be reciprocated as fervently and passionately as he does.

His only wish is her love.

Although it is not enough for him to possess her love, he wants her to have an intense and almost sadistic affection for him—one that goes beyond what seems possible. He yearns for her to destroy him. Because he's confident in Sarang's ability to do so. He needs more. More than she could offer him, more than she could ever agree to. He is but a slave, created to worship her.

San's aim is to belong to her; he would go to any extent, even to the point of destroying the entire world, if that is what it takes to achieve that. The value of her love is immeasurable, and his objective is absolute. She is the center of his life and the very essence of his being. She is the haunting presence in his dreams, a seductive force that both seduces and tortures. The midnight idol of his desire, the serpent that dwells around his heart, tempts him to sin.

San craves her love so much, and that need is so painful, so all-consuming, and so twisted. If need be, he would kill her with his own hands, just to be sure that no one else would ever have her.

Sharing her with his brothers was like hellfire burning him from the inside out, but it was a paltry sacrifice he could make in exchange for her love.

This time, he won't let her go. This time, not even death would dare separate them. Saran will be his. She will be theirs. In life. In death. Forever and ever.

Soon.

It will happen so soon. San can't wait for the day when his Goddess is beneath him, in the cage of his body, sprawled on the black velvet of his bed. With his fangs deep into her sweet flesh, and she will screaming his name in a haze of ecstatic pleasure.

He would make her see stars. San will take her all the way to the doors of Heaven.

“San,” “San,” “San,” “San” over and over, until her voice completely collapses to a painful wheeze, until he absorbs every tiny sound she makes, every moan, every breath, every barely perceptible note, until all she will remember is his name.

Until Sarang whispers right into his lips, “I am yours.”

Soon.

In the meantime, San can patiently wait. He will wait as he always has, obediently and without complaint. He will be such a good boy. San will wait obediently, as he has done for centuries and centuries before. Until the time is right to pursue his desires, he will take all that he has dreamt of, and God will save the souls of those who get in his way.

Right now, he thinks he could die here — in her bed, surrounded by the lingering warmth of her body and her maddening scent. He would like nothing more than to show her all his passion and devotion and all the love he could give her.

He dreams of running his lips over her skin and tasting her until his whole face is wet and glistening with her juices. He will fuck her into oblivion until night turns to day and then drown her in tenderness, worshiping her caress-weary body as an obedient slave should.

Sometimes, he thinks it's not normal—the feelings he has for her. Such love simply cannot exist. How can someone love someone so much? Is it normal to hate the very existence of nature and the heavenly bodies for being able to see her beauty, which should belong to him alone?

However, these were only momentary musings until he regained his composure, dispelling any doubts. How could he even question his love? It felt so perfect and effortless, like breathing. How could such thoughts even enter his mind?

Her love was a life worth living.

It was destined since the dawn of time, when spirits roamed the earth, the sun was young, and the old gods had not yet vanished. She belonged to them, and they belonged to her. They sensed her first breath on their lips. He felt.

Their love bloomed again—a blood rose.

Soon…

These fantasies drove him mad; every cell ignited with the desire to possess, awakening his animal predatory nature. The ugly nature of his genuinely depraved being.

He pictured Sarang biting into his neck and taking possession of him. She aimed at him as if he were nothing more than a thing, a toy for her amusement.

“Say my name, Sarang. Express your fondness for me and acknowledge that I am your only one. I want you to own me and claim me as yours. Say my name until it burns your lips. Again and again. Drink my blood, bite me to death; I'm nothing more than your slave, just a pathetic means of pleasure. Hit me. Hurt me, I beg you. I need it so badly. Please, my love, I am begging you to love me. Love… Love me so much until it kills me. That is what I wish for.”

His hips moved smoothly, grinding his arousal against the rumpled bedclothes. San moaned, breathlessly gasping as he found the perfect angle to satisfy his intense desire for release. He needs to cum; he couldn't leave here without cumming. He buried his face in the pillow, panting and whimpering like a wild animal possessed. His primal instincts demanded he leave his mark on her, to possess her and fuck her into oblivion until her belly bloated from the amount of cum pouring into her and her head felt light and empty.

His claws lengthened, digging into the mattress, leaving sickening jagged stripes as his hips moved uncontrollably, continuing to rub his throbbing wet cock against the silken folds of the crumpled sheets.

The sounds he made were almost heavenly.

Soft, extended moans that turned into pitiful sobs. He sounded like an angel in the throes of passion.

In his fantasies, San imagined drinking from her as long scarlet streams of her sweet blood ran down their naked bodies, staining everything red. How deeply he entered her body, seeing the imprint of his cock on her flat stomach as her neat, pointed nails plowed into his back into gaping lacerations.

His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. San needed to cum; he was on the verge of madness. The need for pleasure was more obvious than anything around him at the moment. The transparent essence of his arousal dripped down onto the sheets, sticking to his golden, wet skin with every movement of his muscled thighs.

His thoughts returned to the dark, vicious images of hot animal sex. A fine shiver ran down his entire body.

He will run his tongue along every contour of the intricate bloody lines, licking up every last drop. First, the longest neck-open and vulnerable to his insatiable mouth, then lower down the hollow between the heavy breasts, rising in time with her labored breathing. His lips would close around the hard pink nipples, scraping them with his teeth, making her squeal and gasp. Lower down her flat belly, where the flowers of his hungry kisses and hard touches bloomed. Until his tongue is between the moist puffy folds of her pussy, he runs the pointed tip along the soft silken flesh, plunging deeper into the tight hole where blood mingles with her natural sweetness. He wants to feel the velvety, wet walls of her vagina clench and quiver around his tongue.

“Sarang!” His voice was hoarse, and his hands gripped the sheets beneath him with such force that his knuckles turned white, almost tearing the skin.

He looked pornographic.

San was so lost in his fantasies that he had completely forgotten about Yeosang, who was still in this room, until he was reminded of it with a sharp, painful tug of his hair. Long, thin fingers gripped the dark, damp strands with force and tilted his head back rigidly, revealing a view of a strong neck with veins swollen from exertion and beads of sweat running down her

“Here we go, such a pathetic, stupid bitch.” Yeosang said it with mockery in his voice. His lips curled into a wicked smirk, and San could feel it on his skin as the brunet whispered in his ear. “Look at you, you're nothing more than a slut; where's your pride, San, eh? The great general of the dark army, the heartless ice prince, the ruthless Ripper, is nothing more than a drooling whore shamefully rubbing his cock against the sheets.” Yeosang's fingernails dug painfully into his scalp, tugging harder on the long silk strands the color of night.

“Yes, yes, keep calling me that.” His request sounded like a plea. All Yeosang's words made him move faster, almost in desperation.

The rhythm of his hips became erratic and uncontrollable. He was close. His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

“Are you imagine fucking her, Sannie, hmm? Or what would it taste like? I bet the taste will be heavenly; she's sweeter than ever in this life. Oh no, I know exactly what you're thinking.” A mocking chuckle escaped his ruby-red lips. “You want her to bite you.” Those wicked lips pressed against the frantically beating pulse point. “Right here.” Yeosang's teeth sank with force into the flushed skin of San's neck—that particular sensitive spot on his neck beneath a scattering of pale freckles.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure, his mouth opened in a silent moan, and his hips shook with the intensity of his orgasm. Thick, hot cum splattered onto the sheets, staining them with the pale, milky liquid.

The brunet unclenched his teeth, releasing the tender skin. The bite mark was wine-red, with swollen incisor impressions and drops of black blood in the hollows. A poisonous flower, tempting to know sin.

“Sannie, look at the mess you'd made. Truly a royal fuck. I always thought it was more Mingi's style.” Finally, thin but surprisingly strong fingers let go of the silken strands, allowing San to rest his face tiredly against the pillow. His whole body relaxes after the overwhelming orgasm. The entire pillow is soaked with drool and sweat, and semen cools beneath his stomach, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

He opens one eye and looks up at the vampire leaning over him with a lecherous smile.

“Would you like to join me, my beautiful brother? We still have a few hours before she gets home.” The brunet rolls onto his back to make room for Yeosang in the bed. His fingers run along the sculpted curves of his abs, scooping up the viscous, pearly liquid and sliding it into his mouth. “Mmm…” A long tongue swirled around his fingers, licking up every drop with lazy, slow pleasure.

“You're disgusting, San.” Yeosang puckered his lips in disgust, looking around at the brunette sprawled on the bed. He turned sharply on his heels and strode away from the room; to he pick up Yoru on his way, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his arms. “Get up; we have to go. Hongjoon is calling us.”

“You're not leaving the cat?”

The brunette turned around over his shoulder, meeting his gaze with San's silver eyes.

“June misses his darling; for our little girl, it's time to come home.”

San propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the departing Yeosang. His lips stretched in a satisfied smile full of devilish anticipation.

The time had finally come.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

1st POV

"Feed me to the wolves, let them take my flesh."

“Well, I'm glad to finally meet you in a more relaxed setting, Miss Ahn. Please take a seat.” With an elegant gesture, the man motioned me to a deep leather chair in front of his desk. On the glass tabletop was a silver plaque engraved with the name “Mr. Lee Taeho”.

“Miss An” - how sad and tragic that sounds. I never wanted to try out this role. I didn't like being addressed like that, because it was always Mina, and before her, it was my grandmother, and probably my mother was addressed like that when she was alive.

But here I am, the new Miss Ahn, and unlike my predecessors, I have not sought to carry the weight of this unbearable crown. I don't need the congratulatory ribbons and the wet glitter sequins smeared across my face.

Although there was nothing in the address itself that I could call unpleasant, the tone with which it was always delivered foreshadowed the inevitable tragic ending of its own and tasted of earth and chrysanthemums.

You're bound to end up as one of them; it's not all by chance, Sarang. Don't kid yourself.

I saw the future as a series of predetermined events, especially after Mina's death. She had the arrogance to dispose of my life as she saw fit, putting chains of obligations and secrets around my neck. I buried her in the ground, and my days became nothing more than a list of dull plans, paltry hopes, and bitter regrets, as murky as the water in the city canals through which a coffin floats. Still, I couldn't help but wonder who would be the next Miss An when I died, or would I be the one to hold that title forever?

There are never any former queens. There are only dead ones.

I could feel the blood flowing faster through my veins.

For a few moments, there was silence around us, thick and enveloping like fog. If I'd felt any hint of confidence as I walked through the tall glass doors of Silver & Black LTD, now, alone with this man, I was floundering in my social insecurity like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. I resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze of his night-dark eyes. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Lee Taeho wasn't just one of Silver & Black's most successful lawyers; he was also a devilishly handsome man.

He was built like a god. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a tight-fitting white shirt that accentuated his muscular biceps, bulging pecs, and flat stomach. The image of strength and power was completed by the perfectly tailored, tight-fitting trousers. The rolled-up sleeves revealed several tattoos on his wiry forearms—something in Latin that I couldn't make out.

His face was also striking, with angular, pointed features that would have looked strange and out of place on anyone else, but the luscious, perfectly sculpted lips made them something unimaginable and outrageously beautiful.

I felt uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze. He was looking at me like I was something special, but not in a sexual or romantic way; rather, it was the look of an explorer who had found an unexpected treasure in a pile of rubbish.

“I honestly didn't expect you to have any free time in the next few months, so thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

To be honest, I knew absolutely nothing about Silver & Black until Soomin told me about them on the way here. Soo turned out to be absolutely right when she told me about them. This place was the epitome of the arrogant domination of money and power—cold, glassy, and sterile, like a morgue where the remains of all “happy stories” are taken.

I could never belong to such a place, but I could easily imagine Mina here, with her developing blood curls and the unemotional grandeur of royalty. People like my sister were part of that 'proper' society so suited to closed Sunday clubs and icy glass offices. Like all of her kind, Mina was a great predator, used to labeling people and giving them her own names and definitions. She knew exactly how to make those around her feel uncomfortable with just one look.

Some people have everything, others nothing. It's as cruel and true as the inequality of love.

I still didn't understand how Mina had so much money to afford the services of this company, but judging by how polite and “sweetly” the receptionist greeted me at the entrance, she was very much appreciated here.

Blood of my blood.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Saran.” He said that, and I looked back at him in surprise. It wasn't so much the fact that he allowed himself a familiarity that surprised me, but the way he said my name—as if it had always belonged to his lips. It was as if he'd said it over and over again until the intonation was perfect.

My heart beats fast in my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely.

“We will always make time for you. If you'll allow me to be frank, I've left a few free hours each day, just in case you decide to call me. Honestly, I expected it to take a little less time on your part, but who am I to judge you, Sarang?”

“But why?” I tried to gather information and put it together in a way that wasn't absurd. I didn't want to assume anything.

“Why? Do I have to explain? Maybe I just wanted to see you; you're a beautiful girl, and I'm a great admirer of the beautiful. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with the embarrassment that must have been written on my face. I could feel the heat spilling over my cheeks, turning them a painfully inflamed shade of red.

I had never been a girl with a 'cute' blush. I was more like a girl burned by the gold of the sun, pressing her cheek directly against the boiling, bubbling surface of the sun.

Taeho lightly drummed his perfectly filed nails on the glass tabletop, completely ignoring my obvious embarrassment at the situation, and continued:

“But let's say that this is due to the fact that your dear sister was a valued client of ours, whom everyone here at Silver & Black LTD sincerely appreciated. Miss Ahn was our special customer. All the staff will agree with me; your sister is impossible not to love.”

“A special client?” I interjected. Somehow, that didn't surprise me at all. Of course, it was only natural that Mina was always at the center of the universe. People followed the sound of her voice like rats behind the magical melody of the flute.

“Are you surprised, Sarang? Your sister has helped our firm in many ways, bringing us new clients and introducing us to the 'right' people, making our firm one of the best in Korea. She's contributed a lot to the development of Silver & Black. There was a strange note in his voice, as if between the cracks there was something terrible—a terrible secret that could change my whole life.

For some reason, I don't feel comfortable at all right now.

“I'm pleased… hmm, or rather, I'm pleased to know that my sister has done so much for you. Lately, she and I haven't really been close, and we've barely chatted. So I didn't know where she went or what kind of people she hung out with.” My words come out a little sour, and I press my lips together.

The lovely Mina, as always, is proving to be the best. I wonder if the day will come when she damn pedestal will be nothing but a pile of ruins at my feet. I thought all this time you'd been pining for roses, but instead you've been doing the right thing. What else don't I know about you, Ahn Min?

What don't I want to know about you?

''Yes, yes, she helped us a lot. Now let's get on with signing the documents, do you mind? I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary.” His words were very dry, businesslike, and in no way in keeping with the previous flirtation. Something flashed in his eyes—concern, doubt, maybe even fear—there was a tense tremor in his hands, and his whole aura changed, as if something huge and evil had turned its attention to him.

“Sure, let's get started.”

The entire process took no more than 30 minutes. I signed document after document, with occasional detached comments from Mr. Lee, which were completely at odds with his previous behavior. There was nothing special about the documents, except for one thing: Rose Hill. As best, I could make out from the extensive stack of papers, it was a small house in the style of Victorian England. It was in the ownership of a gated cottage community, the grounds of which were owned by a private company. It was all too complex and confusing to realize the meaning in the space of 30 minutes. I'll deal with it later, most likely in the company of Soomin and a couple of bottles of wine.

“Can I sell the house I inherited, Rose Hill?” I asked without lifting my head from the papers; a few more strokes and I could be out of here. The atmosphere in the office was terribly tense; my skin itched unpleasantly and tingled in places as if it no longer belonged to me.

“To my regret, I cannot help you in this matter. In all matters concerning Rose Hill, you must deal directly with the owners of the land; I will email you their contacts.” The smile he gave me was forced, and I couldn't help but wonder what had made such a difference in his change of mood.

“Okay, thank you.” I signed the last form and handed the pile of paperwork to Mr. Lee. “I'm done; hopefully everything is settled now. Can I get a copy of the documents, preferably today?”

Taeho cursorily flicked through the pages to make sure each one was signed.

“Our administrator, Sunwoo, will give you all the documents. There is one more thing you need to get before you leave. When you leave here, go further down the corridor to the vault, and Bora will show you a locker in the storage room that belongs to your sister. Now, if you'll excuse me, my next customer is waiting, and I don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Lee.” I clumsily rose from my chair, trying to get out of this stuffy room as quickly as possible. The air felt pressurized, and I felt like I was going to start suffocating a little more. I needed to get out of here right now.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Miss Ahn. Please take care of yourself.” The look he gave me was sad—so unusually sad, like the look of a man living his last day on earth. It was as if the end had come for him before he could realize it.

His words, on the contrary, were a warning. “Take care of yourself.” What kind of lawyer wishes that to a client as a farewell? Was I in danger? Perhaps you were. Although that's true, it's worth crossing out the word “perhaps”, yes, I was in danger. Could he have known about it? Did Taeho know about the roses or the people who sent those awful flowers? Was there something he hadn't told me? A thousand questions were in my head as I walked out of his office.

Mechanically, I reach for the strands of pearls at my neck and twist them around my fingers, nervousness bubbling in my stomach. This isn't some worldwide conspiracy, Sarang. Wake up.

I think I'm becoming paranoid.

The door closes softly behind me. I'm alone in a sterile, shiny corridor.

In the distance, I hear a cheerful laugh—Soomin. She was definitely laughing. Soo is having a great time waiting for me to wrap things up. Even though she was denied my escort to Mr. Lee's office, she wasn't upset at all because the nice receptionist, Sunwoo, I think his name was, was determined not to let her get bored alone.

I could have fallen in love with him. He was charming and cute, with a sweet, heart-shaped smile that would make your teeth rot. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, Armani Prive, in a thinly stitched pinstripe. I'd say he looked like a puppy. With those big, wet, shiny eyes and the way he struck the right pose when you told him to.

Yes, that was the kind of guy I fell in love with—the kind with a good reputation and a well-paid job—the kind who makes love, not fucks. They're the ones who make sure he looks you in the eye and whispers to you about how good you're feeling when he's caressing your body.

Good boys. Obedient boys. Sugar-coated like candy.

If I fell in love with a guy like that, Soomin would break him up like a Christmas candy bar and take a bite right down the middle of him. She liked that type—kind, gentle, and submissive. There had never been a lack of male attention in her life, but for some reason, Soo had always surrounded herself with this type of boy, like colorful toys. She wasn't afraid to break them because she could always move on to the next one. They never crossed her, nodding in obedience and jumping as high as she asked. Men were no more precious to Soo than broken crystal balls, shimmering but useless.

The corridor in front of me was long and empty, with a single door at the end. The sound of heels hitting marble tiles echoed in my head, and the checkerboard pattern on the marble was jarring. For a moment, I thought the corridor was narrowing like a rabbit hole, endless and dark. I was short of air, unable to breathe, and the oxygen in my lungs was as thick and viscous as swamp sludge. I clawed at my neck with my fingernails, trying to pull off the pearl collar, but I felt myself tightening it stronger. My eyes stung from tears and mascara, and ink streaks ran down my cheeks, and somehow they felt colder than they should have.

My fingernails dug into the skin on my collarbones, scratching at it with cruelty and anger.

I needed to get away from myself. To be separate from my body and the way I felt. The nightmare awakened inside me, licking my veins, working its way inside, and gnawing into my soul. My consciousness was beyond my mind.

I hear the sound of tearing threads and thousands of pearls falling at my feet, and I fall with them. I want to go back to before it all began. Before the pain, Before the roses.

Fluorescent lights flash like the tails of nameless comets on the pearly roundness of the beads. I see stars exploding behind my eyes, painting the underside of my eyelids with intricate strokes—the constellation Gemini. Nergal. I want to remember the days when roses were just roses, not home to the ghosts of my soul.

I hear a sound—it's pearls crunching under sharp heels. Under steel heels, like the teeth of the Witch Queen.

“Oh my God, Saran!” Someone shouts. Soomin isn't laughing anymore.

Her hands are so cold against my clammy skin. She presses my face against her chest, and the feverish beating of her heart brings me back to reality. She is my white rabbit.

Voices, voices—there are so many of them. It's a cacophony of sounds and unpleasant cracking noises. The pearls keep breaking, and I keep crying.

Someone brings me a glass of unpleasantly cold water; it runs down my throat like a liquid flame.

I finally took a breath.

“Take me home.” That's all I can say right now. I want to go home, away from the world, away from the sun, and away from the memories.

“She's having a panic attack; she needs air.”

“No! I need to go home.”

“It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you,” Soo purrs, kissing the top of my head like a little baby. She pulls me off the floor with effort, lifting me to my feet.

I look down at the checkered pattern of the marble slabs and at the scattered pearls. In some places, the white slabs are smeared with red, like lipstick smeared by a kiss. This is blood. My blood.

My legs shake like a newborn fawn as Soomin leads me away from this place. Every step was painful, almost more painful than Soo's tight grip on my forearm. “It's okay, Sarang, we're going home.”

It's okay, Sarang.

It's okay.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“Are you sure you're feeling better?”

“Yeah, I'm fine now.” I squeezed out the shadow of a smile. Apparently it was useless; the look in her eyes remained the same: worried, with fear lurking around the edges. Fear for me.

“How long have you been having these attacks?”

“This is the first time. I guess… I don't know. Let's just say it's a consequence of trauma. I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm so sorry.” Soo crouched on the edge of the bed, taking my hand gently. I was made of glass; she didn't want to break me or do the opposite by hurting herself on me. “It's so horrible that you have to go through all this, baby.”

“Yes, it is.” What else could I say? I could not have said a word, and everything would have been understood. The wounds under the bandage itched terribly. Long red marks stretched along my collarbones and neck. Mascara was still smeared across my face, as was the soft pink lip gloss. I looked like a mess. I was a mess.

My throat was all dry and thirsty, and my eyes were so swollen I couldn't even open them fully.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight, love? We can watch a film or something; maybe one of those stupid comedy shows Mina hated. I'll make dinner and open the wine.”

“No need; I'll be fine. Soomin, go home; you should be resting too, not babysitting me. I'm fine, really. I'm feeling better, and I'll definitely get through the night. I'll probably go straight to sleep as soon as you leave.” Much as I loved Soo, I didn't feel like seeing anyone right now.

“If you say so, Please call me in the morning as soon as you wake up, okay?”

“Of course. Be safe, Soo. Love you.” I thought I covered my eyes for only a second before I heard the click of the front door. The mark of her kiss burned on my cheek.

I don't know how many hours I sat like that—completely still, not taking my eyes off the dark landscape outside the window, which was getting brighter now that a little moonlight was seeping through the thick clouds.

I didn't want to get out of bed, drowning in pillows and blankets like a pipe dream. I felt good in my bed. I couldn't understand what exactly had changed, but I could feel the change. Even in the morning, the bed had been cold and lonely, but now the silk under my fingers was warmer and softer to the touch. Even the smell of the blankets seemed to be different, like purple lilies and musk, a scent that remotely reminded me of something very familiar but long forgotten. Could it have been Soo's perfume? No, more like the scent that Yoru always brought with her.

By the way, where did she go? She was here when I left this morning, but knowing her talent for disappearing and reappearing at will, I didn't hold out much hope of seeing her today. It would be nice to have her around now, though.

I rolled onto my side, resting my cheek against the pillow. I didn't want to sleep, but I didn't want to get out of bed either. My gaze settled on the small box that lay on the chair across from the bed. A casket from a storage locker.

After my panic attack, Soomin took it away, since I was apparently incapable of doing so. Next to it was a neat stack of papers with black paint poisonously embedded in them, listing all the possessions I now owned, including Rose Hill, but the most valuable and important thing was kept in this little silver coffin.

The metal walls of the casket shimmered like liquid silver when moonlight hit them. I was mesmerized by this otherworldly glow. Number 0711 - Miss Ahn Mina. Sometimes a lifetime can be folded like origami and placed on a velvet cushion like a collector's item.

I struggled with myself for a few more minutes before I threw back the blankets and got out of bed. My curiosity outweighed my fear. At that moment, I had to remind myself that “curiosity killed the cat,” and if I had been any smarter, I would have thrown the box to hell and never thought of it again.

The box opened silently, and I felt a chill, as if someone had dipped my heart in ice water. There weren't many things in the box—something old, something new, and something blue—all like a wedding tradition. It wasn't like Mina. She had always despised the idea of marriage; the very thought of anyone daring to claim her freedom made her sick.

It wasn't for her, and it wasn't for me.

Weddings are gorgeous, creamy bouquets of fragrant flowers that breathe in the dawn. At the end of a long journey down a narrow church aisle, a handsome prince awaits with the promise of eternal love. As if. Girls, guard your hearts, for they will eat them for breakfast. Piece by piece, like a birthday cake, until there's nothing left to keep you alive.

Then there'll be another, just as naive. And then another, and so on, endlessly. That's all love is. A streak of devil's rubies and eaten hearts.

There was no heart and no love in that box. Just one little piece of paper with torn edges and a handful of precious trinkets. Just one small puzzle piece that had fallen out of a huge and complex picture. I could recognize Mina's handwriting from a million others, but the words written on that little piece of paper were not hers. In each letter lurked something that had never belonged to Mina; her hand had scrawled those lines, but her lips had never uttered those words.

“My only love. My divine Rose, when I leave this world, I will leave you everything you could ever want. When you read this, I will be gone. Everything has been arranged; everything is ready for you. The whole world will belong to you, my love. I took care of it. On the back of this page, I have left the number of my good friend. Please give him a call; he will help you with all the things you need. He'll be waiting for you. He is the only one you can trust, Sarang. Your beloved Mina P.S. Don't forget, love is eternal.”

I flipped the sheet to the other side. The handwriting was the same but so different; the letters were sharp and crumpled, as if they were written in a hurry.

Hongjoong. I had heard that name before. I knew the taste of it on my tongue.

My fingers hurriedly dialed the number; I didn't look at the time, and, to be honest, I didn't care. I wanted to make sure that he was real and that this wasn't another one of her crazy fantasies that would lead me down a blind alley. I needed to know that Hongjoong wasn't fiction but blood and flesh, intermittent breathing, and an unevenly beating pulse.

At the other end of the phone, the long beeps were interrupted, there was a static pause for a second, and then I heard the sleepy and so welcome sound:

“Hello.”

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sissylittlefeather · 4 months

Text

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you for your patience as I got hella distracted trying to write this! Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. If you missed it, this is the time travel/soulmate au with Elvis and a fem!reader. It's still 2016/1966.

Need to catch up? Here's my masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, FLUFF (this chapter is pretty tame)

Word count: ~1.9k

Instead, you lay together intertwined so that you can't tell where he ends and you begin.

******

In the morning, you awaken to him watching you sleep. When you stir and open your eyes, he kisses your forehead gently.

"Good morning, honey."

"Hi. Did you sleep?"

"A little bit. I was kind of afraid this was a dream. And I didn't want to wake up." You snuggle into him and wrap your arms around him.

"This is real. I'm real."

"I'm so glad." You look up at him from where your head is on his chest.

"You didn't leave last night."

"I know. I don't plan on leaving any time soon."

"Elvis-"

"Let's just not talk about it right now. Please."

"Okay." You know the argument needs to happen, but not right now. It's too nice to just lay in his arms again. Honestly, you wouldn't mind it if he stuck around for a while.

The alarm on your phone goes off. You only have half an hour to pack up and check out of the hotel. Then you'll need to begin the long drive back to your house. You flick the tv to the weather channel just to check the weather for the trip. It's still February, so you never know what might be happening.

You gasp and sit up when you see the map. There's a snowstorm covering your entire area of the country. You look back down at Elvis and he sits up too.

"We need to go. Now."

"Is that snow?"

"Yes. We need to get back there before it's too bad." His eyes sparkle with excitement.

"I love snow." He pops up out of the bed and starts gathering things from around the room, eager to get on the road.

Twenty minutes later, you're walking down to your car with your suitcase. Once you settle into the car, you begin the long journey back to your house.

******

You finally make it home after the two-day drive, stopping at a motel for the night in between. This time you only get one bed and spend the whole night cuddled up together. The hours spent driving are filled with conversation and laughter that bring you closer together with each mile that passes. And when you don't talk, you sing. He loves how you can harmonize with him and the music you make together is beautiful. Sometimes he just listens as you sing along to a song he doesn't know. And sometimes you listen to him, especially when it's a particularly soulful gospel song. Overall, the trip serves as a reminder of your affection for each other and by the end of it you're as much in love as you've ever been.

When he pulls into your driveway, the snow is already coming down pretty heavily and you're glad he is there to drive for you. You run into the house and drop your suitcase in the foyer. He lifts you in his arms to carry you to the bedroom.

"Which way?" You direct him to your room, where he kicks open the door and half tosses you on the bed, both of you laughing. He crawls in on top of you and pushes his hips into yours. Then, he lays his head on your shoulder.

"Honey, as much as I want to fuck you tonight, I'm exhausted."

"Oh thank God. Me too. Can we just sleep?" You laugh and kiss his forehead. He kisses your lips and then lays next to you.

"When did we get old?" He turns his head and looks at you.

"Speak for yourself. I'm only 29." He rolls over on top of you again and kisses your neck aggressively, tickling your sides.

"Oh, I'm old? Am I too old, honey?" You giggle and try to wriggle away from him.

"Stop! No! Never! You said you were old!" He continues to tickle you with his chin on your chest and you laugh hysterically. He laughs too as you wrestle and eventually get to where you're straddling him as he lays on his back.

You collapse on his chest and he holds you while you both try to catch your breath.

"I love you, y/n."

"I love you too, Elvis." He kisses the top of your head. You both kick off your shoes and then you settle into the crook of his arm.

"We should put on pajamas."

"Yeah, we should."

But you don't. You both fall asleep in your clothes, snuggled together on your bed.

******

You wake up to the sound of Elvis opening the drapes in your bedroom.

"Look at the snow!" He is practically giddy with excitement.

"What time is it?"

"Time to get up!"

"Elvis. I don't really like the snow." You feel like you're about to break his heart with this admission and he does look rather stricken.

"You don't? Why not?" You really don't want to tell him, but you've never been good at keeping secrets from him.

"Honestly? Snow makes me wish I had children to play in it."

"Oh, honey." He comes back to the bed and kneels down beside you. You sniffle and try to hide the fact that you're about to cry. He kisses your cheek and then strokes your hair.

"I just want to stay in bed today." He looks at you and considers your request.

"Nope. We're going outside. I'm your kid today."

"Elvis-"

"No excuses." He throws the covers off of you and you groan. "Please. For me."

You sit up and look at him pouting like a little boy. It won't hurt anything to go outside with him. You stand up out of bed and his whole face lights up.

Once you're both dressed in appropriate snow attire, he drags you outside. There's a good 10-12 inches of fresh powder on the ground, so there's plenty to play in. He starts by laying on top of you to make a snow angel. You laugh as he moves your arms and legs.

"I've never made a snow angel like this before." You giggle.

"You've never made 'em with me before." He kisses you on the mouth deeply before pulling you to stand up. You turn to admire your angel and as you do, he grabs a fistful of snow and chunks it at your back.

"Hey!" You turn around and he hits you in the chest with another one. You grab a handful of snow and throw it back at him. It hits him on his shoulder and he runs at you, throwing you over his shoulder while you scream. This continues for a while before he has the idea to build a snowman.

You roll and pack snow until you step back to admire your handiwork. He's not pretty, but he'll do. Elvis wraps himself around you from behind and kisses your cheek. That's when he notices you're shivering. He sings in your ear.

"Baby it's cold outside." And you nod. You feel like your socks are soaked through. "Let's go in and get warm. It'll be dark soon anyway."

You look at the sun where it hangs low in the sky. You've spent the whole afternoon outside playing in the snow with him. Together, you make your way back to the front door. Once you're inside, you begin the process of stripping off your wet clothes. While you do that, you order a pizza to share. It comes and you sit at your small dining table and eat.

"I'm gonna make us a fire. Does your fireplace work?"

"Yes! And I even have firewood."

"Good. Gather up some blankets." You do as you're told and he moves the coffee table and builds a fire for you. Then, he lays out the blankets on the floor and makes a sort of pallet for you to lay on together.

"C'mere." He settles himself on the blankets and pats the space next to him. You lay down next to him and he wraps you in his arms. For the first time since this morning, you're actually warm.

"This is nice."

"It is." He kisses your ear and you shiver for a completely different reason. You turn to look at him and he runs his fingertips down the side of your face. He leans forward and presses his lips to yours gently. His hand finds its way to your hip and he plunges into a more passionate kiss, pulling your hips in to his. You feel him hardening as your tongue slides against his.

He begins to undress you, layer by layer, removing his own clothes as he goes. Eventually, you're both naked, pressed against each other on the blankets, the fire crackling behind you. He drags his fingertips down the side of your body and back up again. This gives you goosebumps, so you scoot in closer to him, laying your leg over his hip. He's fully hard now, his dick pushing against your lower stomach.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, baby?" Your eyes are locked together as he gently moves his hand over your body.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Your body is incredible. And I love your soul with my entire being." He kisses your lips softly.

"I love you too-"

"I'm not finished yet."

"Please continue then." He smiles and kisses you again.

"You are the other half of me. I love your passion, your heart for others, and the way you love me. I can't imagine my life without you." You look into his eyes, not sure where he's going with all of this.

He lifts your leg and gently pushes his cock inside you, filling you slowly. He holds your hip with his hand and begins to slide in and out of you.

"Nothing about me makes sense without you. And I want you- I need you- more than anything else on earth." He moves a little faster, fucking into you passionately. You start to sweat a little as the combination of the pleasure and the fire heat you up. He's sweating too and the places where your skin meets are burning and wet. He pushes your hair back, running his fingers through it. Then, he rolls over on top of you without pulling out. He moves faster and faster as he pumps in and out of you, kissing your neck and your chin up to your mouth.

"I am more in love with you than I ever thought was possible. I belong to you, body, heart, and soul." He continues to push in and out of you with more and more speed and intensity. You feel your climax begin to build and pray that you'll be able to reach it together. As the tension continues to grow, he kisses your mouth deeply and rolls his hips forward to meet yours over and over. Finally, the coil snaps and you feel your body float as the blood rushes from your center out to your fingertips and back again. At exactly the same time, he shudders and shoots you full of his warmth. He pumps weakly a couple more times and then kisses your mouth. He pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"I'll say it a thousand times. I love you, y/n. I'm staying here with you. And I want you to marry me. Will you?" Your heart skips. That's what he was building up to. A battle rages inside you for thirty seconds and then it stops and you know there's only one answer.

"Yes."

******

Chapter 10 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #how the web was woven

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

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↱ an unforeseen scent ↰

➘ summary : Taehyung catches the scent of an omega in the crowd and now he wants her

➘ a/n : this is my first a/b/o au fic so apologies if it isn’t all that well I gave it my best

➘ taehyung x reader , bts x reader

The stadium was electrified with energy as BTS took the stage, their music pulsating through the air. Taehyung, also known as V, stood at the forefront, his voice weaving seamlessly into the harmonious blend of melodies. The crowd roared with adoration, their cheers echoing like a symphony of devotion.

But amidst the blinding lights and euphoric atmosphere, something unexpected caught Taehyung's attention. A scent, subtle yet alluring, drifted through the air, brushing against his senses. His voice wavered for a brief moment, his lyrics faltering as the unfamiliar aroma infiltrated his mind.

His fellow members cast puzzled glances at him, but their professionalism carried them forward, and the song continued without missing a beat. Yet, Taehyung's gaze had shifted from the sea of faces before him, his heightened senses attuned to the elusive scent that had caught his instincts.

He scanned the crowd with an intensity that was almost palpable. His heart raced as he followed the trace of the scent, like an invisible thread guiding him. And then, he spotted her—a young woman with eyes that held the universe within them. Their gazes met, a connection forged across the expanse of the crowd.

The world around him faded into the background as he sang. It was as if the lyrics flowed not only from his lips but from the depths of his soul, directed solely at the omega who had captivated him with her scent. The melody seemed to carry an unspoken promise, a bridge between their worlds.

As the song reached its crescendo, Taehyung's voice surged with emotion. His eyes remained locked onto the omega, his gaze unwavering. He sang with a depth that resonated beyond the lyrics, his heart laid bare in the spotlight's glow.

And then, the final note lingered in the air, the stadium erupting in applause. Taehyung continued to stare, his expression a mixture of wonder and longing. The crowd cheered for the entire group, but to him, it felt like a symphony dedicated to her alone.

As the members regrouped and exchanged glances backstage, Taehyung's breath quickened. He had caught her scent, seen her eyes, and sung for her—all without a single spoken word. Now, he could only hope that fate would bring them closer, that the universe had woven their destinies together in this electrifying moment.

As the stage lights dimmed and the crowd's cheers faded to a low hum, Taehyung found himself backstage, driven by an inexplicable force to act upon the connection he had felt during the performance. He approached a nearby security guard, his voice urgent yet controlled.

"Hey," Taehyung began, his eyes locked onto the young woman's face in the crowd. "There's a girl out there. Omega. (H/c) hair, captivating eyes. She’s standing next to another beta who has ginger hair.”

The security guard followed his gaze, his brows furrowing in concentration. "Yeah? You want us to bring her back here?"

Taehyung nodded, a surge of determination coursing through him. "Yes, exactly. Should be easy enough now can you find her?" Taehyung didn’t mean to come off as rude but something in him was telling him to hurry up and bring her closer.

With a nod, the guard signaled to his colleagues. They began to weave their way through the crowd, their eyes scanning for the described omega.

Back on stage, Taehyung could hardly contain his anticipation. His heart raced as he spotted the security guards guiding the young woman backstage. His senses heightened, and the moment she stepped into view, his nostrils filled with her intoxicating scent once again. He watched as the security guard approached her, speaking in hushed tones.

As she glanced towards Taehyung's direction, her eyes meeting his, he offered a small, reassuring smile. The security guard gestured towards him, and she nodded, her expression a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

When she reached backstage, her presence radiated a blend of vulnerability and determination. Taehyung's heart swelled as he took in the sight of her, her scent mingling with the backdrop of the bustling backstage area. He moved closer, drawn to her in a way he couldn't quite comprehend.

With her cheeks lightly flushed, she met his gaze, her eyes a reflection of her internal struggle. She seemed at a loss for words, her heart pounding in the presence of an alpha—an unfamiliar sensation for her.

"Hi, omega," Taehyung greeted, his voice low and resonant, acknowledging her secondary gender in a gesture of understanding.

Her breath caught at the sound of his voice, a shiver coursing through her. She summoned the courage to reply, her voice soft yet steady. "Alpha."

The exchange was simple, yet laden with layers of meaning that they both understood on an instinctual level. Taehyung's alpha nature recognized her omega essence, and she recognized his dominant presence as an alpha. It was a dance of connection that transcended words.

As they stood there, their gazes locked, Taehyung felt a powerful surge of protectiveness. He wanted to know more about her, to understand the story behind her captivating scent and the emotions that flickered in her eyes.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur, a mixture of sincerity and curiosity.

She hesitated for a moment, her heart in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. But something in his eyes reassured her, and she nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Sure."

And so, amidst the bustling backstage chaos, Taehyung and the omega found themselves drawn into a conversation that would mark the beginning of a connection neither of them had anticipated. As they spoke, their words were interwoven with the language of their secondary genders—a silent understanding that reached beyond societal norms and embraced the essence of who they were.

Taehyung extended a warm smile all of a sudden towards the omega before him. "I'm Taehyung," he introduced himself, his voice a soft melody that resonated in the air. “I apologize for not giving out my name the first time.”

(Y/N) returned the smile, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "It’s okay, mother and father says that it’s normal for some people to use our secondary genders first as a form of greeting rather than exchanging names…Nice to meet you, Taehyung. I'm (Y/N).”

"Ah, what a lovely name," Taehyung remarked, his eyes reflecting genuine appreciation for the simplicity and elegance of her name. "Tell me, (Y/N), do you have a mate?"

(Y/N)'s surprise was palpable, her eyes widening slightly at the unexpected question. She hadn't expected to discuss such personal matters with an alpha, especially one she had just met. "Um, no," she answered, her voice a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. "Why do you ask?"

Taehyung's smile remained warm and reassuring. "Good, good," he said, his tone light. "Then taking you as my own won't be a problem."

The words hung in the air, a declaration that resonated deeply within both of them. The implication of his statement wasn't lost on (Y/N), and she felt her cheeks flush a rosy hue. Her heart pounded in her chest, her emotions a whirlwind of surprise and flattery.

"I...I didn't expect that," she admitted, her voice soft and tinged with embarrassment.

Taehyung chuckled, finding her reaction utterly adorable. "It's just a traditional way of expressing interest," he explained, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I meant it sincerely. Your scent, your eyes...they caught my attention during the performance. It's as if the universe brought us together."

(Y/N)'s embarrassment transformed into a mixture of wonder and warmth. His words felt genuine, and his alpha presence was both reassuring and captivating. She found herself drawn to him in a way that defied logic, a connection that was both thrilling and frightening.

"I don't really know how to respond to that," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Taehyung's smile softened, his gaze unwavering. "There's no need to respond immediately," he said gently. "Let's take our time to get to know each other. If you're uncomfortable or unsure, we can take things slow."

The sincerity in his words touched her heart, and she found herself appreciating his understanding nature. "Thank you, Taehyung," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I think...I'd like to get to know you better too."

And so, amidst the backstage whirlwind, their conversation continued. As they shared snippets of their lives, their laughter and exchanged glances painted the canvas of a connection that was both unexpected and promising. The universe had indeed woven their destinies together, and as they navigated the uncharted territory of their emotions, they both knew that the story of Taehyung and (Y/N) was just beginning.

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ainyan · 17 days

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Thancred and his daughters. (Kali's taking the picture) <3

#ffxiv #thancred waters #minyda waters #xarise waters #au: woven souls

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stayinhellevator · 19 days

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Golden Ratio

Perfection In Imperfections

In a world where a mark decides everyone's destiny, oftentimes some wandering souls are left questioning their fate when things don't go according to the plan.

However, the only way to escape this loop is to give up your soul itself. The moment you reject your soulmate or betray them after accepting the bond, Fate punishes you by taking away your soul and all the feelings in it, leaving you cold and hollow.

Worse is the death of your bonded; not only does it leave you alone for the rest of your life, it also takes away your soul with it. A truly beautiful tragedy.

So was it truly romantic that you couldn't choose your own lover and spend your entire life, stuck in this never-ending golden ratio of the soul bond?

Or past the horrors of this hauntingly transfixing miracle, was it satisfactory enough that you've at least one person out there, meant solely for you, in every universe and every lifetime, in one way or another, no matter what?

This one person was your chosen or your destined, is for you to decide.

"Oh take me back to the start!"

Pairing: Svt x fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU

Warnings: See in chapters

Word Count: to be added later

Playlist: The Scientist ~ Corrine Bailey Ray

Masterpost:

Introduction: The Golden Ratio is an irrational number with indefinite decimal points making it impossible for the point to ever exist in the same place, hence why the line ideally never connects.

Alternatively, woven in intricate threads on the verge of snapping but forever associated with each other, by virtue or memory, are the stories of souls that are entangled in this eternal loop.

THEORY 1: Two Divergent Lines meet once and then never cross paths again.

Alternatively, two souls have one chance to meet and then never again. The good thing is, they know.

THEORY 2: Two Parallel Lines never meet or cross each other.

Alternatively, it was a relief that even though they're never meant to be, at least they always walk together in the spectrum of life.

THEORY 3: Two asymptopes are always in proximity but never actually touch one another.

Alternatively, two unfortunate souls who are aware that they couldn't be together but find salvation in the company of one another.

THEORY 4: Two intersecting lines cross paths once and then continue without change.

A pity that the pair thought nothing could sever their safe haven and now they have to live on without each other.

THEORY 5: Two tangent lines touch one another at one point only.

Alternatively, two souls that were so close yet so far.

©stayinhellevator2024: Please don't repost, translate or copy my work on any platform.

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quarantineddreamer · 3 months

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✨ B's RebelCaptain Rec List ✨

Apologies in advance as I have NO DOUBT that I missed including some very talented individuals and their works in this list. (This is by no means comprehensive.)

I haven't been here all that long, but wow--since day one I've been blown away by the talent in this fandom and the dedication of all the creators.

So, thank you lovely souls for sharing your beautiful art (in all its many forms) for us to enjoy--and thank you RC community as a whole for being so lovely and welcoming this past year! I am truly grateful to be screaming/crying/rewriting canon with you 💖

Give Up the Ghost by @frostbitepandaaaaa

I mean...what can I say? I love all of Frost's writing, but this was the first work I ever read of hers and it is devastating and gorgeous and will make you lose your mind. I remember the first time I read it just...lingering on certain sentences because I was in awe of how beautiful they were. Just read it. Trust me. (And then check out her WIP 12 Days afterwards!)

threshold by @astromechs

Another writer whose works I love. (Okay, that's pretty much everyone on this list--the RC fandom is so frickin talented). But for me, this fic in particular stands out as one that gives incredible insight into Cassian's character--and an adorable story overall. Heartfelt and beautiful.

built on hope by @luciechat

I am particularly obsessed with chapter 3 of this collection of prompt-writes Getting Back Together (in the Cold). Lucie paints the picture so clearly and the tension throughout is delicious. Highly recommend reading this RC Hoth fic--and Lucie's other amazing works!

we were never going to make it by @fulcrumstardust

Okay off the bat: be mindful of the tags! This was a whumptober fic and it is BIG SAD. But it is also so, so beautiful. The emotion woven throughout cuts to the bone and as painful as it was, the premise of the story was very well executed. (And if you're looking for a lighter read--maybe a spicy one--Moria's one-shot SOLAR STORM has such an incredible setup. The sexual tension is so well done.)

The RebelCaptain Romance Collection by @agentjackdaniels

I couldn't choose just one from this collection! Luce writes the softest, sweetest, fluffiest stories for RC that you will ever read. (Which makes perfect sense if you're lucky enough to get to know her because Luce is such a genuine, sweet soul.) These fics are like a warm-hug for the soul--just what you need after watching Rouge One.

the things you said by @gaygingersnaps

Again: I am not usually one for Modern AUs but I think the RC fandom is changing me and the first I ever read was Eli's amazing fic. I am obsessed with how Eli writes Jyn's internal dialogue. It's so in character and sharp and will make you smile and shake your head and go "Oh, Jyn!" This collection of stories is idiots-in-love like nothing else and you will fall in love with the world Eli has so thoughtfully crafted for a modern-day RC.

objection, your honor by @andorerso

I'm not usually one for modern AUs, but this fic is just so much fun. The banter between Cass and Jyn is so in character and so sharp and witty and the whole time I was reading I had a grin on my face. (These two idiots.) I love all the little details Sissi considers in this AU (Chewie being the dog for example), but that's no surprise! She is the queen of AUs!

Tethered (to the Story We Must Tell) by @dilf-din

I just absolutely loved the setup for this fic. Jess manages to fit these characters into a magical world so seamlessly by embedding the most incredible details from the Star Wars universe. (I was obsessed with the "stormtroopers".) Jess's writing is so smooth and rich and will immediately grab your attention.

Coping Mechanisms by @mosylufanfic

I think this was the first fic I ever read of mosylu's! I love the way she writes Jyn--always perfectly in character, strong and sassy. But in this fic in particular, I love the softness she brings to Jyn in how she cares for Cassian. I found it to be a very beautiful, healing read. (But if you're looking for something a bit longer or more upbeat! I mean, take your pick. Mosylu is another author who is amazing at AUs and her works are always such fun reads.)

RC Proposal by @ninsletamain

I could have put any of nins' pieces down as a rec. (Like seriously go scroll her feed she's insanely talented and her work blows my mind everytime without fail). But I chose this one because it is just so rich and full of detail, I love the story it tells, and you cannot help but smile whenever you look at it.

Claw Machine by @winterdruid

Definitely an all-time favorite for me. I remember making a joke about claw-machine as a first date when I was doing a RO rewatch with some friends and then this masterpiece showed up on my feed and my jaw dropped?! It's so fun and cute and well-done and I reblog it every time I see it soooo.

Seashore (for RC Fluffbruary) by @adeptnenyim

I love the scenery, their poses, their expressions, the quote?! Ahhh all of it! Nen's art is so soft and special and gives me all the feels and this one is no exception.

BTS of RO Inspired by @art-question-mark

I have always loved the picture this piece is based off of. In my head, it is happy Jyn and Cass. In my head, it is canon. Natalie's style is so beautiful and I love some of the quotes Natalie pulls from the Rogue One novel to go with the art!

Pretty Cute by @muguathepapaya

This piece is super cute and exactly what they deserved. I'm obsessed. Gives me all the warm and fuzzies. Sunshine on a rainy day, so gorgeous.

Time to Wake Up by @eegnm

Okay are you noticing the theme yet? I love seeing these two happy, and this scene in particular is just so...warm. I love the cuddly vibes, their expressions, all of it. You can feel the love in it.

losers by @necr0mancers

I am obsessed with the look they are exchanging. Very conspiratorial and so true to them. I also just love the style of this artists' works and the sense of humor woven through many of their pieces.

Elevator Scene by @satmolly

Nope I actually do not have words for this one. I think it says enough. (This happened, and it happened just like this and it is so very beautiful).

Favorite Scene (beach) by @dramaticmusicplaying

Another one that leaves me speechless. (Okay, they ALL do I feel like I am not doing these artists justice I'M SORRY). I just think this piece captures the beach perfectly and I love the style and all the colors and I kinda need to cry after looking at it okay?!

Jyn/Cassian Smooch by @barrikae

I am totally obsessed with this artist's style and this image in particular is just: ahhhhh! You know? Like look at themmmmm. Thank you for this barrikae.

Space Travel by @freebooter4ever

Your honor, they are holding hands and they are so very sleepy and I am so very in love with this piece. I love the artist's style and again, amazing scene set. Lives rent free in my mind.

Tagging creators for this one vs specific sets (cause you CANNOT make me choose honestly) and linking this post I wrote awhile back about how incredible I think you all are! (As in: I specifically had RC creators in mind when I wrote that post.)

*This is the list I am most nervous about cause I am almost certain I am forgetting people so if you see this and you make gifs for RC please know I love you and your work <3

@bartowskis

@staticwaffles

@jyndor

@andorerso

@jemmasimmons

@sydneyadmu

@garethsedwards

@gizkalord

@kalikoris

@dailyrebelcaptain

@therebelcaptainnetwork

#dailyrebelcaptain #drcvalentinescelebration #rebelcaptain recs #and yup! im late with this 😅 it took me probably 6 hours to pull this together and i think i could have spent 6 hours more but #my wrist is starting to give me grief unfortunately #so here goes nothing #(i am super nervous to post this for some reason!)#3..2..1..go

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cherubiyeon · 11 months

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she had the world | ive jang wonyoung x female reader

amidst the bustling cityscape of seoul, y/n, an inquisitive traveller from jeju, stumbles upon an art gallery.

✩ warnings. angst, mentions of affairs, strangers to friends with benefits, painter! wonyoung au, unrequited feelings, angst with unhappy ending

✩ word count. ~3k words

✩ playing﹒ she had the world [panic! at the disco]

their first encounter was serendipitous, as if the universe itself conspired to bring them together. y/n stood before wonyoung's painting, her eyes locked onto the colors that seemed to whisper untold secrets.

with a nervous yet determined heart, wonyoung approached, her voice barely above a whisper as she introduced herself as the artist. "hey, um— i'm wonyoung—the artist behind this painting. is there anything you'd... like to ask about this painting? or some feedback would be nice!"

y/n's smile was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, illuminating her face with a warmth that sent shivers down wonyoung's spine. "wonyoung, what a beautiful name," y/n replied, her voice soft and melodic. "your art speaks to me on a level i can't quite explain. it's as if each brushstroke holds a piece of your soul."

wonyoung blushed, feeling a mixture of bashfulness and exhilaration. "thank you," she stammered. "your words mean so much to me! i-i put a lot of emotion into my art, and to know that it resonates with someone else... is the greatest compliment."

y/n extended her hand, a gesture of friendship that felt like an invitation into her world. "i'm y/n. i'm new to this city from jeju and i came to this gallery looking for something that could speak to my soul. i think i found it in your art."

as they shook hands, an electrifying connection surged through wonyoung's fingertips, leaving her breathless with anticipation. she couldn't shake the feeling that their meeting was no mere coincidence, but a tapestry woven by the hands of fate itself. the bustling gallery around them faded into a mere blur as they delved into a passionate discussion about art, life, and the inexplicable forces that intertwined their paths.

y/n's eyes, like pools of liquid amber, held wonyoung captive, drawing her deeper into their depths. each word that flowed from y/n's lips was a symphony, each laugh a melody that resonated within wonyoung's soul. she hung onto every syllable, cherishing the way y/n's voice danced in the air, a sweet serenade that intoxicated her senses.

days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as their friendship blossomed amidst the city's backdrop. wonyoung found herself yearning for the stolen moments, the stolen glances that held a world of unspoken longing. she reveled in the small gestures—a brush of their hands as they walked side by side, a lingering touch that sent shivers down her spine.

but as the days stretched into a delicate tapestry of shared experiences, wonyoung couldn't help but feel the weight of unrequited love settle upon her shoulders. the tenderness in y/n's gaze, the warmth in her smile—it was a language that wonyoung longed to decipher, a love that she yearned to be reciprocated.

in the quiet corners of her heart, wonyoung weaved dreams of what could be. she imagined stolen kisses beneath the moonlit sky, whispered promises in the hushed sanctuary of their shared secrets. she envisioned a future where their worlds would collide, their lives intertwined like brushstrokes on a canvas.

the seasons danced on, their footsteps echoing in tandem with the rhythm of wonyoung's heart. spring blossomed, painting the city with hues of pastel dreams, while autumn whispered secrets of change in the crisp air. through it all, wonyoung remained by y/n's side, a silent witness to the ebbs and flows of their intertwined lives.

'twas a cool autumn evening, as the leaves rustled underfoot, y/n and wonyoung found themselves strolling along the riverbank. the water shimmered like liquid silver under the moon's tender gaze, mirroring the shimmer of unspoken emotions that swirled between them.

y/n leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "isn't it beautiful, wonyoung?" she spoke, her voice carrying a hint of wonder. wonyoung continued in staring at the oblivious woman. "it is," wonyoung replied softly, her heart fluttering like a thousand butterflies in her chest.

as they strolled along the cobblestone path, wonyoung's heart beat a frenzied rhythm, her every word and touch infused with unspoken longing. "y/n... there's something i've been wanting to tell you," wonyoung ventured, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

y/n turned toward her, eyes brimming with curiosity. "what is it, wonyoung-ie?" she asked, her tone a gentle caress against wonyoung's fragile heart.

summoning her courage, wonyoung whispered, "these stolen moments we share... they mean more to me than i can express. you've become the compass that guides my every step, the light that illuminates the darkest corners of my soul."

a gentle breeze carried her words, intermingling with the symphony of rustling leaves. y/n's smile remained soft, the flicker of recognition barely registering in her eyes. "wonyoung, you're such an incredible friend. i treasure our bond more than you know," y/n replied, her words painting a painful melody that echoed within wonyoung's chest.

yet hope, a cruel mistress, refused to relinquish its grip on wonyoung's heart. she convinced herself that y/n's response held a glimmer of reciprocation, a silent invitation into the depths of an affair woven with stolen glances and moments of intimacy.

their encounters became clandestine meetings, hidden from prying eyes, their shared secrets whispered in the sanctity of moonlit gardens. wonyoung, her heart awash with both joy and torment, surrendered herself to the rapture of their stolen kisses, cherishing each stolen touch as if it were the last drop of an elixir she craved.

but in the shadows of their affair, y/n remained oblivious to the depth of wonyoung's love. her affectionate gestures, once interpreted as signs of reciprocation, became tainted with the innocence of friendship, blurring the boundaries between what was real and what wonyoung desperately wished to be.

wonyoung sat in her studio, surrounded by the remnants of her artistic endeavors. the room was filled with the scent of paint and the soft strains of music that mingled with her thoughts. she brushed a streak of vibrant red onto the canvas, her movements betraying the turmoil within her.

yunjin, her wise and caring friend, entered the room, her presence offering a fleeting solace. she glanced at wonyoung's creation, a mix of vibrant colors and raw emotion.

she raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "hey there, picasso. pouring your heart out on the canvas again?"

Wonyoung offered a half-smile, appreciating Yunjin's attempt at making the atmosphere more lighter. "more like trying to make sense of the chaos inside," she replied, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

yunjin settled down on a nearby stool, her eyes filled with concern. "you've been a little distant lately. is everything okay?" wonyoung took a deep breath, but remained silent. "... it's about that y/n girl again, huh?"

Wonyoung took a deep breath, hesitating before she spoke her truth. "It's Y/N. I can't stop thinking about her, Yunjin. Every time she smiles at me or brushes against my hand, it's like fireworks exploding in my heart. I want to tell her how I feel, but I'm scared of what might happen."

yunjin leaned forward, her expression serious yet understanding. "look, wonyoung-ah, i get that love can be a rollercoaster of emotions. but before you go pouring your heart out, consider if you're ready for the consequences. what if things change between you two?"

wonyoung sighed, her gaze fixed on her trembling hands. "i know it's a risk, but i can't keep this bottled up any longer. it's eating me alive."

yunjin reached out, placing a reassuring hand on wonyoung's shoulder. "i'm not saying you shouldn't go for it, but just be prepared for any outcome. and remember, your friendship is precious. you don't want to lose that."

wonyoung nodded, appreciating yunjin's straightforward advice. "you're right. i just wish i could know what she feels without putting our friendship on the line."

wonyoung nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken desires. she watched as yunjin left the studio, leaving her alone with her thoughts. the silence enveloped her, and she found herself drawn to the canvas that stood before her—a painting of y/n.

the colors on the canvas danced with an ethereal grace, capturing the essence of y/n's spirit. wonyoung had poured her heart into every stroke, every brush of paint. in the painting, y/n's eyes were pools of stardust, a captivating glimpse into the universe she hid within. her lips curved into a soft smile that held a thousand untold stories. wonyoung had painstakingly spun the stars on her fingernails, each one a testament to the boundless dreams she saw in y/n's eyes. yet, despite the beauty she had immortalized on the canvas, it couldn't bring her the happiness she yearned for.

days turned into weeks, and wonyoung found herself lost in the depths of her emotions, yearning for a love that existed only in the fragments of her dreams. every stolen glance, every brush of their hands became a lifeline, fueling the fire that consumed her heart. but y/n remained blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing within wonyoung's soul, her gestures of friendship shrouded in innocence.

one evening, as the sun painted the sky in hues of fiery orange, wonyoung's phone buzzed, interrupting the solitude of her studio. a message from y/n flickered on the screen, inviting her to meet at their favorite cafe. hope surged within wonyoung's chest, intermingled with an undercurrent of nervous anticipation. little did she know that fate had prepared a cruel twist in the tale.

arriving at the cafe, the air crackled with a mixture of warmth and tension. wonyoung's heart pounded against her ribcage, its erratic rhythm echoing the storm raging within her. she spotted y/n, a vision of serenity amidst the bustling crowd, her smile a flicker of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

"hey," y/n greeted softly, her eyes holding a myriad of emotions as they met wonyoung's gaze.

wonyoung returned the greeting, her voice trembling slightly. "hey. what did you want to talk about?"

y/n's gaze flickered, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "i've been doing a lot of thinking, wonyoung. and i think it's time we stop... this."

wonyoung's breath caught in her throat, her world spiraling into chaos. she fought to steady herself, clinging to the last vestiges of hope. "stop what?"

y/n's eyes filled with regret, the weight of her words pressing heavily upon them. "our affair. i care about you deeply, but i can't ignore the fact that there's someone else in my life now."

time seemed to stand still as wonyoung's heart shattered into a million fractured pieces. the colors of the cafe faded, leaving behind a monochrome reality. she forced a smile, her voice strained as she tried to mask the devastation that threatened to consume her.

"someone else?" wonyoung repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to acknowledge the truth.

y/n nodded, her gaze shifting to the floor. "his name is yunhan. we've been spending time together, and i think it's time to give our relationship a chance."

wonyoung's eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. she clenched her fists, the pain radiating through her like a searing flame. it felt as if the world had conspired against her, weaving a tapestry of longing and heartbreak.

"i'm sorry," y/n murmured, her hand reaching out hesitantly, only to be met with wonyoung's withdrawal. "i never meant to hurt you."

wonyoung forced a smile, her voice tinged with a mixture of acceptance and resignation. "it's not your fault, y/n. we... can't force ourselves to love or not love someone.."

as the café's ambiance whispered tales of love and loss, wonyoung felt a silent plea escape her lips, carried away by the currents of time. she knew she had to release the hold on her unrequited love, to let it drift away like a leaf on the wind. it was a bittersweet acceptance, for in surrendering her heart, she set herself free from the chains of longing, even as the ache lingered deep within her soul.

the days that followed y/n's revelation were etched with a sorrow that clung to wonyoung's every breath. the weight of her unrequited love bore down upon her like an invisible burden, suffocating the vibrant hues of her existence. the unfinished painting of y/n, a testament to the fractured fragments of their temporary affair, seemed to mock her from its perch upon the easel.

one evening, in the depths of her despair, wonyoung stood before the painting, her hands trembling with a mixture of anguish and rage. the colors that once whispered secrets of love now appeared to taunt her, their vibrant dance a cruel reminder of the shattered dreams that lay in ruins. she contemplated tearing the canvas apart, obliterating the memories that held her captive. yet, in the end, she couldn't bring herself to do it. the painting held too much sentimental value, encapsulating a chapter of her life she couldn't entirely let go of.

with a sigh that echoed with resignation, wonyoung picked up her brush and faced the canvas. as her strokes danced across the surface, she poured her heartache into every brushstroke, the raw emotion bleeding onto the space. it was an act of defiance, a silent rebellion against the pain that threatened to consume her. she channeled her sorrow into art, using the colors as a language to express what words couldn't convey.

her fingers traced the contours of y/n's face, a mixture of sadness and longing clouding her eyes. "why couldn't you see how much i loved you?" she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken words and shattered dreams.

years passed, and wonyoung's perseverance bore fruit. the painting, born from the depths of her despair, gained recognition in the art world. its haunting beauty touched the souls of those who beheld it, a silent testament to the pain and longing embedded within its layers. wonyoung's name became synonymous with a tragic love story, her art an expression of the human experience.

one fateful day, amidst the hallowed halls of a museum, wonyoung found herself drawn to an ethereal presence. her gaze fell upon a child, their innocent eyes fixed upon the painting that had become her legacy. the child's fascination mirrored her own, a reflection of the profound connection art had the power to forge.

wonyoung's heart skipped a beat as her eyes fell upon the child. in that fleeting moment, she saw the ghost of y/n in the innocent gaze of the young girl. a bittersweet smile adorned wonyoung's lips as she nodded in understanding.

lost in a moment of bittersweet contemplation, wonyoung's reverie was interrupted by the child's mother, her voice tinged with worry. "haerin, where are you?" she called out, searching the vast space.

startled, wonyoung turned to face the source of the voice, and in that instant, time seemed to stand still. standing before her was y/n, a ghost from the past, now adorned with the grace of motherhood. their eyes locked, the unspoken words of their shared history hanging heavy in the air.

"mommy! mommy! look! this painting looks like you!" little haerin pointed at wonyoung's painting as y/n carried the small girl.

in that poignant reunion, the weight of their unfulfilled love reverberated through the silence. wonyoung's heart trembled, torn between the joy of seeing y/n once more and the painful reminder of what they could never have.

y/n approached, her voice tender and filled with regret. "wonyoung, it's been so long," she murmured, her eyes brimming with emotions left unsaid.

wonyoung's voice quivered, her heartache blending with a fragile glimmer of hope. "yes, it has. i never thought i'd see you again."

y/n's gaze shifted to the painting, her expression a wistful mix of nostalgia and sorrow. "your art has touched so many lives, wonyoung. it's a testament to the beauty that exists within your soul."

wonyoung's heart tightened at y/n's words, her voice heavy with unspoken pain. "do you know, y/n? this painting... it's you."

y/n's eyes widened, disbelief and longing flickering within them. "me? but... how?"

wonyoung's voice quivered, laden with the weight of unrequited love. "every stroke, every color... they are fragments of memories, of the love that bloomed within my heart. you were my muse, my inspiration. and yet, you never knew."

tears welled in y/n's eyes as she reached out to touch the canvas, as if trying to grasp the intangible emotions that permeated the artwork. "i never realized... i never knew."

wonyoung's heart shattered into a thousand pieces, her voice filled with aching vulnerability. "i wanted to tell you, to show you how much you meant to me. but fear held me back, and our paths diverged. now, all i have left are these brushstrokes, a portrait of a love that was never spoken."

y/n's voice quivered with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "wonyoung, i wish things could have been different. but life has its own way of guiding us. i've found happiness in a different path, one that doesn't intertwine with yours."

wonyoung's tears mingled with the colors of her masterpiece as she whispered, "i'm glad... i'm glad you've found happiness, even if it's not with me."

the weight of their unspoken emotions hung heavily in the air, the gallery a silent witness to the tragedy of their unfulfilled love. time seemed to stand still as they stood there, caught between the echoes of what could have been and the reality of their separate lives.

with a trembling breath, wonyoung turned away, her heart splintered but resolute. the pain of letting go mingled with the knowledge that their paths were meant to diverge, like two shooting stars blazing across the night sky before fading into obscurity.

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kingofbodyrolls · 5 months

Text

Learn to Love Again (m) | myg | teaser

💜 It has been posted! Read it here. 💜 Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count (for the teaser): 480 words. I’m still writing the fic and it’s currently at 12k and I’m almost done!

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts.

Warnings (explicit): Explicit sex (I haven’t written the smut yet, so I don’t know what it entails yet 🤣).

Authors note: I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least).

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though (except the smut lol) but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

*fun fact: I actually took the photo of the night sky myself (back in 2013 lol) and used in the breakline for this!

Taglist: If you wish to be notified and added to the taglist, just drop a comment here on this teaser, an ask or a message and I’ll add you. I kindly ask that you have your age visible on your blog, as this contains mature and dark themes, you must be over 18+ 🙂

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart. “Why does everyone leave?” The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence. Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends. The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna. God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

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mononijikayu · 30 days

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nightingale — geto suguru.

In the midst of a fragrant garden ablaze with the intoxicating scent of flowers, they found themselves ensnared in a tender embrace, their whispered words of love and adoration mingling with the heady perfume of blossoms. Each declaration melted her heart a little more, filling her with a sense of warmth and belonging that she had never known before. With each gentle kiss that he pressed against her skin, they were drawn together like magnets, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as though they were two halves of a whole, united in a love that knew no bounds.

GENRE: Greek Mythology AU!

WARNING/s: Romance, First Love, Fluff/Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Grief, Mourning, Death, Mild Smut, Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Grief, Reminiscing, Reincarnation;

masterlist

listen: nightingale by norah jones

note: this a rewriting of my work previously but i missed suguru and wanted to write about him and here we are, 11k words long. its my little gift before going on a short hiatus for law exams~ i love you all!!!

SHE WAS CERTAIN THAT SHE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND LOVE AT ALL. She held steadfast the truth: love had never eluded her. The goddess, adorned with affection from her inception, was hailed the instant she graced the world. From within her very being, love's resplendent echoes cascaded, born of two souls who dared defy the world's confines, weaving a tapestry of eternal devotion. After all, she was the daughter of Cupid and Psyche. A goddess of such sensual pleasure. She knew what that warmth of touch meant.

In her every breath, love whispered her timeless melody, painting her existence with hues of passion and devotion. Adorned with the essence of adoration, she danced through life's symphony, each step a testament to the boundless affection that surrounded her. For she was not merely a recipient of love's grace, but a beacon, illuminating the path for all who sought its embrace. And in the tapestry of destiny, woven by the hands of fate, her story intertwined with those who dared to love fiercely, forging bonds that defied the constraints of time and space. Thus, in the eternal dance of love, she found her solace, her purpose, her everlasting home.

The goddess was keenly aware of the affection bestowed upon her by mortals. Adorned with the most exquisite offerings at her temple altars, she sensed a profound connection to those who revered her. Yet, despite her divine status, she recognized a shared humanity with her worshipers. In moments of reflection, as she heeded the prayers of the common folk, she found herself drawn to their desires and uncertainties, feeling a kinship that blurred the lines between deity and mortal. Yearning to unravel the mysteries of love, she longed to experience its essence firsthand—to be enveloped in the warm embrace of another, to lose herself in the intoxicating depths of love's embrace.

As the goddess observed her parents' tender gazes and exchanged whispers of adoration, a gentle envy stirred within her. They seemed to embody the very essence of wonder, locked in a world of their own creation, where their love spoke a language known only to them. They inhabited an island of love, secluded in their devotion to each other. Yet, amidst their affectionate bond, the goddess found herself questioning the nature of her own duty to love. Unable to experience or comprehend it herself, she pondered the true meaning of this elusive emotion.

In the midst of her contemplation, the goddess felt a longing tug at her heart—a yearning to understand the depths of love that eluded her grasp. She watched her parents with a mix of admiration and curiosity, wondering what it must be like to be consumed by such profound affection. Despite her divine stature, she found herself humbled by the complexity of human emotions, grappling with the paradox of her own existence. For while she was revered by mortals as a symbol of love, she remained estranged from its intimate embrace.

Yet, even in her solitude, the goddess harbored a flicker of hope—a belief that perhaps one day she too would unlock the secrets of love's mysteries. With each passing moment, she grew more determined to unravel its enigmatic allure, to bridge the chasm between her divine essence and the tender emotions that danced within mortal hearts. And so, amidst the whispers of adoration that filled the air, the goddess embarked on a journey of self-discovery—a quest to find the true meaning of love and, in doing so, to transcend the boundaries of her own existence.

Occasionally, she finds her youth to be a fleeting thing, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She's well aware of its capricious nature, how it can both uplift and burden her. The goddess finds solace in witnessing her parents immersed in their mutual adoration, yet beneath her admiration lies a lingering ache. The solitude of her divine existence weighs heavily upon her, a constant reminder of the emptiness beside her. She longs for a companion who can share in her joys and understand her sorrows, someone worthy of standing by her side as she seeks solace in the answers to her grief.

In the depths of her being, a tumult of emotions stirred ceaselessly. A profound longing lay entrenched within her, echoing like the thunderous roar of Zeus's lightning across the heavens, yearning to be acknowledged and understood. Why must she be denied such desires? Other deities in her midst grappled with their own complexities of love and devotion, yet she remained confined within this cage of yearning—to belong to someone's secluded haven, to grasp the essence of being the bestower of joy and affection.

Her father had always treasured her as the living embodiment of his and Psyche's boundless love. As their only child, she was a precious gift, a testament to the depth of their affection for each other. The thought of parting with her filled his heart with an overwhelming sense of sorrow and apprehension. He couldn't bear the idea of losing her to the passage of time, to the inevitable growth and transformation that awaited her on the journey into adulthood.

Yet, deep down, she knew that she couldn't remain under her parents' protective wing forever. As much as her father cherished her, she understood that there comes a time when every child must spread their wings and venture out into the world on their own. She could see the struggle in her father's eyes, the reluctance to let go of the little girl he still saw in her, even as she blossomed into a young woman.

Despite the pain it caused her father, the goddess knew that she needed to assert her independence and forge her own path in life. She recognized that true living required taking risks, embracing the unknown, and charting a course toward her own destiny. And so, with a mixture of determination and trepidation, she resolved to pursue her dreams and aspirations, even if it meant venturing into uncharted territory.

“One day, I’ll be free to know what its like to.” She whispers to herself under her breath, looking at her mother and father. “I’ll know what love is too.”

THAT DAY CAME SOONER THAN SHE WAS PREPARED FOR. As Cupid and Psyche departed for the Temple of Venus, leaving their daughter behind in the care of the Gratiae, a sense of longing and sadness filled the air. Cupid's reluctance to part with his daughter was evident in the way he held her close, his gaze lingering on her as though trying to etch her image into his memory. Similarly, Psyche cradled her daughter in her arms, her touch gentle and loving as always.

Despite their deep love for their daughter, Cupid and Psyche knew that they were still gods. People had relied upon them.They had to fulfill their duties and obligations, even if it meant being separated from their beloved daughter. The Temple of Venus, nestled in the remote mountainous forests where mortals were forbidden to tread, was a place of great importance to Cupid's mother.

Soon after, they would accompany Venus and her retinue towards the home of the gods, in Mount Olympus. That was much more of a concern to them. It was too much for their beloved daughter. It was a short trip, one that would fly by soon. As far as Cupid and Psyche were concerned, they would return sooner or later to be with their beloved child again.

"Father, why do you not take me with you to visit grandmother?" the goddess questioned, her silk shawl slipping from her elbows. Cupid's lips formed a flat line, while Psyche's eyes widened with fear as she prepared the chariot. "I am a goddess, am I not? Do I not have the right to visit the place within the league of blood and kin? Do I not have a place there too?"

"I love you, my child," Cupid responded, his eyes gleaming with devotion as his fingers cupped his child's cheek. "But you know the reason as to why we cannot bring you along with us."

"I know so, but I am no longer a child—"

"You will always be a child to us," her father insisted, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "And just as much, we cannot part with you. Not when you echo all of our love in your very being, daughter."

"Your father and I just wish to protect you, my dear," her mother, Psyche, added as she walked towards her, taking hold of her hand. "There are many there that I cannot trust with your well-being. I cannot bear to see harm upon you, daughter. Neither can your father. You know this."

The goddess knew whom her mother speaks of.

She shudders at the thought.

The memory of the incident echoes still.

In the dawn of her parents' youth, this event left an indelible mark on their souls, seared into the very fabric of their existence. Life within the Caelum was fraught with challenges, where every inch of space was claimed by powerful gods and goddesses who brooked no opposition. They held sway with an unyielding dominance, leaving little room for others to find footing.

For Cupid, the prospect of returning to the Caelum and introducing Psyche to his family was fraught with dread. He couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him, haunted by memories of his mother's treatment of Psyche. How could he not fear the repercussions of such a reunion?

Cupid counted himself fortunate that Psyche had chosen to remain by his side, committed to their union despite the challenges they faced. However, he was keenly aware of the voracious appetite for power that lurked within the hearts of the other gods. Psyche, with her ethereal beauty—silver hair cascading like a waterfall, eyes sparkling like the stars—was a prize coveted by many.

Despite Psyche's reluctance, Cupid knew they couldn't avoid facing his family forever. Resigned to the inevitable, he resolved to confront them and fulfill the obligations expected of them. With a heavy heart, Cupid escorted Psyche to the Caelum, where they were greeted once more by the gods and goddesses. As expected, the overwhelming presence of his family only served to unsettle Psyche, leaving her besieged by their constant attention.

In the midst of the grand spectacle orchestrated by the gods to win Psyche's favor, Cupid seethed with anger, his heart heavy with frustration and indignation. Each deity vied for Psyche's attention, showering her with extravagant displays of affection and lavish gifts, all in an attempt to win her favor.

Apollo serenaded his wife with melodies extolling her beauty and grace, while Neptune presented her with the most exquisite pearl from the depths of the ocean, a token of his undying devotion. Meanwhile, Mercury whisked Psyche away to enchanting locales, captivating her with the wonders of the world.

Mars, fueled by his competitive spirit, engaged in fierce duels with Apollo and Neptune, determined to prove himself worthy of Psyche's admiration. Even Jupiter, the mighty king of the gods, joined the fray, painting the skies with breathtaking displays of cosmic wonder.

Amidst the chaos, Cupid stood resolute, his fury boiling over as he witnessed the discomfort inflicted upon his beloved Psyche. He vowed not to return until the gods ceased their relentless pursuit of her affections, declaring that he would sooner wage war against them than see her suffer.

It was Minerva who ultimately intervened, chastising her fellow gods for their foolishness and selfish motives. She reminded them that Psyche was happily wedded to Cupid, and their ostentatious displays of affection were driven not by love, but by a desire for conquest and control.

For the goddess, the concept of love and marriage among gods and goddesses held little significance. It was a realm of existence where power and dominance reigned supreme, where love was often overshadowed by ambition and desire. Yet, amidst the tumultuous landscape of divine affairs, her father Cupid stood as a beacon of unwavering devotion to his beloved Psyche.

Cupid's love for Psyche transcended the boundaries of divine politics and power struggles. He had risked everything, defying his own mother for the sake of their love. To him, Psyche was the epitome of truth and beauty, worth more than any earthly or celestial possession.

When their daughter was born, Cupid harbored a deep-seated fear that she would one day fall victim to the machinations of the gods. He desired nothing more than for her to find a love as pure and devoted as his own for Psyche, to be cherished and adored by someone who would prioritize her happiness above all else.

The goddess couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration and resignation at the harsh reality of her parents' words. She understood the importance of finding true love amidst the chaos of the divine realm, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension at the thought of navigating the treacherous waters of love and devotion in a world ruled by power and ambition.

"I understand," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with disappointment. "But I cannot help but feel confined, tethered to the safety of these walls while the world beyond beckons to me."

Cupid's gaze softened as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "One day, my child," he said gently, "when the time is right, you will spread your wings and soar beyond these walls. But for now, trust in us to keep you safe."

Psyche squeezed her daughter's hand reassuringly. "We love you more than anything, my dear," she whispered, her eyes shining with maternal affection. "And until that day comes, know that you will always have a home here, surrounded by our love and protection."

As her parents prepared to depart for their journey to visit her grandmother, the goddess couldn't help but feel a pang of longing in her heart. The prospect of being left behind, even temporarily, filled her with a sense of loneliness that she struggled to shake off.

Yet, as her father reassured her with his comforting words, a glimmer of hope flickered within her. She knew that their separation was only temporary, that they would return to her side as swiftly as the winds that caressed her cheeks.

With a bittersweet smile, the goddess pressed a tender kiss upon her father's cheek and embraced her mother tightly. "Safe travels, father, mother," she whispered softly, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "May Caelus, Terra, and Dies watch over you on your journey."

Her father returned her embrace, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. "And you, daughter," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm. "Take care of yourself while we are away. Listen to the Gratiae and let them guide you in our absence."

With a final nod of farewell, her parents boarded the chariot and began their journey, leaving the goddess standing alone in the quiet solitude of their chambers. As she watched them depart, she couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty mingled with determination. She would heed her father's advice and trust in the guidance of the Gratiae, knowing that her parents would return to her side before long.

As her parents vanished into the vast expanse of the skies, the goddess heaved a sigh, feeling the weight of their absence settle upon her shoulders. With a heavy heart, she retreated into the solitude of their manse, finding solace amidst the lush beauty of the garden that her father had lovingly crafted for her mother.

Each flower, a testament to their enduring love, whispered stories of devotion and union that spanned the ages. The goddess couldn't help but smile as she traced her fingers along the delicate petals, feeling a sense of peace wash over her in the tranquil embrace of nature's embrace.

As she gazed out of the window, the sight of the Gratiae seated together on a bench near the fountain greeted her. Thalia, the eldest of the Gratiae and goddess of wealth, flashed a radiant grin in her direction. It was a smile that seemed to carry the gleam of gold, reflecting her divine domain. "Let's play, come!" Thalia called out eagerly. "Our father's gift has arrived—little ships made of gold!"

But Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy, interjected with a note of concern. "Sister, lower your voice! Can't you see? The goddess wears her worries like a cloak."

"Why the sadness, dear goddess?" Aglaia, the youngest of the Gratiae, inquired softly, casting a glance at her sisters. "What can we do to lift her spirits, sisters?"

"Think quickly!" Thalia urged, rising to her feet. "What can we do?"

"Perhaps Poena has made her cry, or maybe Febris has made her sick," Euphrosyne speculated aloud.

"Poena and Febris wouldn't dare cause distress to the goddess," Aglaia remarked with a smile. "There must be another reason."

At times, she marveled at how her grandmother fared with these three as her constant companions. Yet, deep down, she knew their intentions were pure.

"The goddess!" Thalia called out again, breaking her reverie.

As she was about to respond to the call of the Gratiae, a vibrant glint caught her eye, drawing her attention to the ornate mirror adorning the wall. Intrigued, the goddess approached, her brow furrowing with curiosity. The mirror shimmered with a pristine gleam, reflecting the radiance of her temple. Its white stone façade contrasted beautifully against the golden rays of the sun, casting a spellbinding aura.

Located on a small isle in Via Nova near Porta Romana, her temple stood as a testament to her divine presence. Within its hallowed halls, her resplendent statue commanded reverence, adorned in garments painted with graceful hues and embellished with intricate gold reliefs. And there, kneeling before her likeness, was a man.

“Goddess, oh goddess!” A man with dark hair and purple eyes cried pitifully at her altar. “I am praying at your feet, longing that you answer my suffering, goddess, oh goddess! My beloved left me for another. God, oh goddess, give me joy so that I can go through this life without remorse or sorrow. Let me be happy, goddess or goddess!”

As the man with dark hair and purple eyes cried out pitifully at her altar, pouring out his heartache and longing for solace, the goddess couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy pierce her divine essence. His pleas echoed in the sacred space, reverberating with the raw intensity of his suffering.

Her heart swelled with pity as she gazed upon the distraught mortal, his anguish palpable in every tear that fell. Why must mortals endure such pain? What had this man done to deserve such heartbreak? With a furrowed brow and a heavy heart, the goddess clenched her fists, her desire to alleviate his suffering burning fiercely within her.

But he was not alone in his sorrow. Others followed, each sharing their own tales of loss and longing, their voices blending into a chorus of anguish that resonated throughout the temple. The weight of their collective grief pressed upon her, urging her to take action.

With a determined resolve, the goddess tore her gaze away from the mirror and hastened to the stables. Without hesitation, she prepared her chariot, harnessing her steed with practiced efficiency. With a silent command, she descended from the heavens, her divine presence descending into the mortal realm to offer solace to those in need.

As Thalia tried to call out once more for the goddess, her voice echoing through the empty space, there was no response. Confusion clouded their expressions as they pondered the sudden disappearance of their divine companion.

"Perhaps Poena paid a visit," Aglaia suggested, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Or maybe she's simply attending to her own needs. She'll return soon enough, I'm sure of it."

Euphrosyne, ever the optimist, clapped her hands excitedly, eager to divert their attention. "Let's not dwell on it! Come, let's play with Father's gift!"

But the goddess was not attending to personal matters or playing with gifts.

Instead, with a resolute determination burning within her, she commanded her steed to carry her across the skies, venturing into the mortal realm for the first time in her immortal existence.

SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. The goddess, unfamiliar with the mortal realm, quickly returned her chariot of horses to her palace upon her arrival. Understanding the danger that her divine form posed to mortal eyes, she took swift action to transform herself into the guise of a mortal woman. Gods and goddesses bore such immense magical power within their beings that the mere sight of them could be fatal to mortals. The goddess could not bear the thought of inadvertently causing harm, and so she fashioned a mortal form for herself with her own hands.

Once transformed, the goddess set out for the bustling heart of human life—the city. Everywhere she looked, there was an abundance of activity and vitality, with people bustling about their daily lives, engaged in laughter, song, and commerce. The sensation of the wind against her skin and the warmth of the sun above filled her with a sense of delight.

With a bright smile adorning her mortal face, the goddess greeted those she passed along the way, relishing in the simple joys of human interaction. However, her enthusiasm got the better of her, and in her excitement, she failed to notice the passing carriage, a momentary lapse of judgment reminding her that even gods could be prone to folly.

"Watch out!" a voice cried out, jolting the goddess from her reverie. She lifted her gaze, eyes widening in shock at the sight before her. Caught off guard by the sudden warning, she found herself immobilized, unable to react in time. Desperately, she attempted to summon magic from her hands, only to hesitate. Revealing her powers would betray her presence. "Move, my lady!"

‘What should I do?’

In that moment, she felt another's arms enveloping her, pulling her to safety just as the carriage careened past, crashing into the wall in a deafening cacophony. Gasping for breath, she felt the world go silent around her. Fear gripped her, trembling as she struggled to regain her bearings. For the first time, she felt the weight of powerlessness coursing through her veins.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Sound rushed back, and she found herself gazing into eyes as deep and warm as the night sky. They held a vitality she had never witnessed before, a spark that seemed to transcend mortal life. "Please, tell me! Are you safe, are you unhurt?"

The goddess found herself speechless, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. In that moment, the man realized the impact of his actions and hastily retreated, giving her space to compose herself under the watchful gaze of the sun. A crowd began to form around them, curious onlookers seeking answers about the chaotic scene. Concerned voices inquired about their well-being, but neither the goddess nor the man responded, their focus solely on each other.

With a sense of urgency, the man extended his hand to the goddess, eager to assist her to her feet. Swallowing the lump in her throat, the goddess reluctantly accepted his gesture, her hand trembling slightly as it met his.

‘Even his hand is warm.’ She murmurs to herself.

As the man extended his hand, the goddess's mind raced with fragments of memories, pieces of a puzzle falling into place with startling clarity. She couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that washed over her, a sense of connection that transcended mere chance. In the midst of the chaos, amidst the concerned murmurs of the crowd, she found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn't fully explain.

At that moment, it clicked. She remembered him—the man who had knelt before her altar in his time of need, his heart laid bare in an act of vulnerability that had touched her deeply. The memory flooded back, vivid and unmistakable, like a beacon in the storm of confusion.

He had been broken, yes, but also kind—so achingly kind. And now, here he stood, extending a hand to help her, his sincerity shining through in every gesture. The goddess felt a warmth spread through her at the realization. His kindness had not been fleeting or superficial; it was woven into the very fabric of his being, an intrinsic part of who he was.

The goddess blinked, shaken by the intensity of the moment and the concern in the stranger's eyes. She struggled to find her voice, her mind still reeling from the near miss.

"I... I think so," she managed to stammer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for saving me."

The stranger's expression softened with relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It was nothing, my lady. I couldn't just stand by and watch you come to harm."

"I'm alright, sir," she murmured, her voice trembling with nerves, unsure of what to say to the young man. "Thank you for saving me."

"You're most welcome. We all strive to do right by our gods, showing kindness and gentleness in our actions," he replied earnestly. "Though we never know if they'll grace us with their presence."

A soft laugh escaped the goddess's lips at his words, for she herself was among the deities who visited their realm. Generosity was indeed a customary virtue, lest one wished to incur a god's wrath.

"Yes," she affirmed softly.

"Come, come with me," the man urged, his smile radiant as the night sky adorned with twin stars. "I'll fetch you some hot wine and food to settle your nerves. Perhaps restore some of your strength, my lady. You've been through something dreadful."

"W-wait, I don't know you," the goddess stammered, her uncertainty palpable.

"And I don't know you either," the man replied warmly, his eyes alight with genuine joy. "But as I mentioned, kindness towards all is a virtue the gods would surely approve of."

"What... what is your name?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"I am Suguru," he declared with a joyful flourish. "Musician to the king of this realm. And you, young lady, who are you?"

"I'm—" She caught herself, refraining from revealing her true identity. Instead, she offered a human alias. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as his smile broadened.

"My lady, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," Suguru said, his voice brimming with sincerity.

He looked so handsome like this, she thinks.

Too beautiful for his own good, it hurts.

Her hand rested on her chest.

She could feel her heart beating.

SHE MUST HAVE STARED AT HIM FOR ALL THAT TIME. It had been an ideal day for travel by foot, with the clouds providing a welcomed shield from the sun and a gentle breeze keeping the air pleasantly cool. They made their way to Suguru's residence, situated in the farthest reaches of the city. His home stood in the bustling outskirts near the market center, where the lively atmosphere filled the air. Children darted around, engaged in games of hide and seek, while mothers busied themselves with household chores.

Upon arrival, they found Suguru's dwelling to be modest yet inviting. As a musician, his earnings were dependent on the favor of nobles and kings, and he had been fortunate enough to capture the attention of the newly crowned king. Entering the small room, they found a simple layout: a small bed nestled against the wide window, a compact lavatory, and a small kitchen area with produce stored in closed pots. A solitary table occupied the center of the room, with a lone chair positioned nearby.

In the simplicity of Suguru's abode, there existed a warmth that transcended the mere physical confines of the space. It was a sanctuary amidst the chaos of modern life, a haven where tranquility and comfort reigned supreme. As the goddess traversed the modest rooms, her senses were greeted by the gentle fragrance of grassy moss and the vibrant hues of wildflowers adorning the clay vases in the corners.

Each brick she touched seemed to exude a sense of history and resilience, as if bearing witness to the passage of time and the trials of the mortal world. Despite the ferocious summers and harsh winters that plagued the inhabitants of this realm, Suguru's home stood as a bastion of serenity and stability, offering solace to those who sought refuge within its walls.

Suguru's voice carried a softness as he pointed to the vibrant blue door nearby, a subtle homage to the vast expanse of the sky. "It's reminiscent of the sea," he murmured. "Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can almost hear the waves crashing against the shore."

Curiosity flickered in the goddess's eyes as she inquired about Suguru's countryside home. "Is it similar to this?" she asked, her tone tinged with genuine interest. "What was it like there?"

A wistful smile graced Suguru's lips as he reflected on his distant memories. "It's been too long for me to say," he confessed. "But in my mind's eye, I can still see the beauty of it all. The olive trees swaying gently in the breeze, the laughter of my family echoing through the fields as we went about our daily routines. It was a time of simple joys and cherished moments."

The goddess's empathy shone through as she acknowledged Suguru's longing for his homeland. "You must miss them," she whispered softly, a hint of sympathy in her voice. "But I imagine it brings you comfort to dream of those days."

Suguru nodded, a quiet resolve in his gaze as he returned her smile. "Yes, it does," he admitted. "But life is about embracing the present, isn't it? I may be far from home, but I'm living my dream here and now. And for the time being, that's more than enough."

"It's admirable," she remarked, her gaze softening with admiration. "To find contentment in the midst of longing."

Suguru's expression softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Life has a way of leading us down unexpected paths," he mused. "But it's what we make of those paths that truly defines us."

In the quiet hours of the night, as the flames danced in the hearth and the air was thick with the aroma of bread and wine, the goddess found herself immersed in Suguru's world. His words lingered in her mind, stirring a deep contemplation within her immortal soul.

The feast he laid before her was a testament to his generosity and hospitality, a humble offering that spoke volumes of his character. With each bite of the delicious bread and each sip of the aged wine, she felt a connection to the mortal realm unlike anything she had experienced before. It was as if Suguru's warmth and sincerity had breached the barriers between their worlds, inviting her to truly live in the present moment.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching upon topics both profound and mundane. They spoke of family, of dreams yet to be realized, of the fleeting nature of existence itself. And in those fleeting hours, the goddess felt a sense of liberation she had never known before.

For the first time in her immortal life, she felt truly alive, basking in the simple joys of companionship and shared experiences. In Suguru's company, she found a kindred spirit, someone who understood the complexities of life and embraced them with open arms.

As the night wore on and the fire burned low, the goddess realized that true fulfillment didn't lie in the opulence of her divine realm, but in the richness of human connection and the beauty of life's fleeting moments. And in that realization, she found a newfound appreciation for the gift of existence itself.

Suguru's warmth enveloped her like a comforting embrace, his presence a soothing balm to her immortal soul. His beauty, so effortlessly radiant, seemed to illuminate the dim corners of her heart, stirring feelings she had long forgotten. In his company, she felt alive in a way she had never experienced before.

But it was his voice that truly enraptured her, weaving a spell of enchantment that transcended mortal limitations. When he sang, it was as if the heavens themselves had opened up, pouring forth celestial melodies that echoed through the very fabric of existence. It was a gift bestowed upon him by her uncle Apollo, a divine talent that left her breathless with awe.

As Suguru's voice filled the air, each note carrying the weight of his emotions, the goddess found herself moved to tears. His music was a testament to the beauty and pain of the human experience, a poignant reminder of the fragility and resilience of the mortal soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow and longing, there was a glimmer of eternity, a promise of everlasting hope that shimmered like the stars above.

In that moment, as she listened to Suguru's soulful melodies, the goddess felt a profound sense of connection to the mortal realm. It was a reminder that despite their differences, the bonds of love and empathy transcended all boundaries, uniting them in a shared journey through the vast tapestry of existence.

And as the echoes of Suguru's song faded into the night, the goddess knew that she had found something truly precious in his presence. It was a glimpse of the forever she had yearned for, a fleeting moment of perfection that she would cherish for eternity.

"Your voice," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "it's... divine."

Suguru's gaze met hers, his eyes reflecting the flickering firelight with a mixture of humility and gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly, his words carrying a weight of emotion. "It means a lot coming from you."

"I've never heard anything quite like it," she continued, her heart swelling with a sense of wonder. "It's as if the heavens themselves have blessed you with their song."

Suguru's cheeks flushed with color at her praise, a shy smile gracing his lips. "I'm just grateful to be able to share it with you," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "Music has always been my solace, my way of expressing the depths of my soul."

The goddess reached out, her hand finding his and intertwining their fingers in a gentle embrace. "And what a beautiful soul it is," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the firelight as she gazed into his. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Suguru's smile widened at her words, a soft glow of appreciation radiating from his features. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "To have someone like you appreciate my music, it's more than I could have ever hoped for."

Their hands remained entwined, the warmth of their touch creating a cocoon of intimacy amidst the cool night air. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, adding to the enchantment of the moment.

The goddess leaned in closer, her breath mingling with Suguru's as she spoke. "I feel as though your music speaks directly to my soul," she confessed, her voice barely audible over the gentle melody of his song. "It's as if you understand me in a way no one else ever has."

Suguru's eyes shimmered with a mixture of affection and reverence as he met her gaze. "Perhaps our souls are attuned to each other," he suggested, his words laced with a hint of wonder. "Maybe that's why our connection feels…..”

Her own eyes meet his purple orbs. “Natural. Real.”

In that simple exchange, amidst the flickering glow of the fire and the tender embrace of their hands, there existed a purity that transcended the complexities of their worlds. The goddess found herself drawn to Suguru's authenticity, to the genuine sincerity that radiated from his every word and gesture.

His smile, warm and genuine, spoke volumes. It was a reflection of his unassuming nature, of his innate ability to find beauty and joy in the simplest of moments. There was no pretense, no artifice—just Suguru, in all his natural splendor.

As their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them, a shared recognition of the profound connection they shared. It was a connection born not of grand gestures or elaborate displays, but of the quiet, unspoken bond that had blossomed between two souls who had found solace in each other's presence.

In that moment, the goddess felt a sense of peace wash over her, a feeling of contentment that she hadn't known in ages. With Suguru by her side, she was reminded of the beauty of simplicity, of the power of genuine human connection.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Just that." And in Suguru's smile, she found a glimpse of the divine—an affirmation of the beauty that exists in the natural, the real, and the unassuming.

In the fleeting moments they shared, amidst the warmth of the firelight and the gentle strains of Suguru's music, the goddess found herself immersed in a world where time seemed to stand still. She was hesitant to let go of this precious moment, to bid farewell to the comfort and solace she found in Suguru's presence.

But even as she reveled in the joy of their connection, a sense of responsibility weighed heavily on her heart. She couldn't bear the thought of causing worry or distress to those she held dear, of disappearing without a trace and leaving them to wonder about her fate.

Despite her own yearning for companionship and understanding, the goddess knew that she had a duty to uphold, a responsibility to those who depended on her. She couldn't allow her own desires to overshadow the well-being of others, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness in the process.

As she prepared to part ways with Suguru, a bittersweet ache settled in her chest. She knew that their time together was fleeting, that she couldn't linger in his presence as much as she longed to. But in her heart, she held onto the hope that he would find happiness and fulfillment in his life, that the gods would smile upon him and bless him with all the goodness he deserved.

And as she bid him farewell, she whispered a silent prayer to the gods, a plea for their benevolence and grace to shine upon Suguru, the man who had touched her soul in ways she never thought possible. For in loving him, even from afar, she found a sense of purpose and meaning that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

When the goddess returned to her abode she could not get Suguru’ face out of her mind. She slept that night, dreaming of a man she could not be with. All night, she had wished she had not left but the perfect moment was to leave when he was asleep. It would not be right to stay too long. But the goddess could not help it. She could not help but long for him. And thus, she did return.

SHE KEPT COMING BACK TO HIM. In the days that followed, the goddess found herself drawn back to Suguru's side time and time again—much to his delight. He was ever so happy that she kept coming back to him. He liked seeing her, he liked singing for her. He liked knowing that she was there with him, even just to bid him good night. Despite the weight of her responsibilities and the pull of her divine duties, she couldn't resist the allure of his presence, the warmth of his smile, and the depth of his compassion.

With each passing moment spent in his company, the goddess felt a profound sense of happiness and fulfillment wash over her. She could feel it in every fiber of her body. It was as though butterflies danced on her belly whenever she saw him. In Suguru's embrace, she discovered a kind of joy that transcended the boundaries of mortal and divine, a pure and unadulterated happiness that resonated deep within her soul.

Their time together was filled with laughter and light, with shared moments of tenderness and affection that left the goddess feeling as though she had found her true home in Suguru's arms. His gaze held a depth of adoration that mirrored the vast expanse of the night sky, each star shining with the promise of endless possibility and boundless love.

As they walked hand in hand, the goddess felt the rhythm of her heart syncopate with Suguru's, their connection a symphony of shared experiences and intertwined destinies. His touch, gentle yet firm, filled her with a sense of belonging unlike anything she had ever known, grounding her in the present moment and reminding her of the beauty of simply being alive.

In Suguru's presence, the goddess found herself enveloped in a sense of ethereal contentment, a feeling of peace and serenity that transcended the chaos of the mortal world. For in loving him, she discovered a kind of completeness that she had never thought possible, a sense of wholeness that filled her with a boundless sense of gratitude and wonder.

And so, the goddess treasured each moment spent with Suguru, cherishing the simple yet profound beauty of their connection and reveling in the magic of their shared love. For in him, she had found not only a companion and confidant, but a kindred spirit whose presence illuminated her path and filled her heart with endless joy.

As the day of the celebration approached, Suguru's excitement became palpable, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he spoke animatedly about the festivities. He regaled you with tales of past celebrations, describing the vibrant colors, the lively music, and the joyous atmosphere that filled the air.

Despite your nerves, you found yourself unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. The way his smile widened at your agreement to accompany him filled your heart with warmth, dispelling any doubts or fears you may have had.

You knew that stepping into the realm of the gods, even in celebration, was no small feat. But for Suguru, you were willing to brave any uncertainty. His happiness was contagious, and the thought of sharing this special day with him filled you with a sense of excitement and anticipation of your own. As the bustling sounds of the festival filled the air, Suguru and the goddess strolled hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the lively music drifting through the streets.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Suguru remarked, his eyes alight with excitement as he gestured towards the colorful lanterns illuminating the night sky.

The goddess nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It truly is," she replied, her gaze wandering over the throngs of people gathered in the square. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

Suguru chuckled softly, his fingers intertwining with hers as they navigated through the crowd. "Well, you're in for a treat then," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "This festival is unlike any other. It's a celebration of music, of art, of life itself."

As they approached the heart of the festivities, the goddess's eyes widened in wonder at the sight before her. The square was alive with activity, adorned with colorful banners and shimmering decorations. Musicians played lively tunes on wooden flutes and tambourines, while dancers swayed to the rhythm of the music, their movements fluid and graceful.

"Shall we join them?" Suguru asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he inclined his head towards the dancers.

The goddess hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with excitement. "I... I'm not sure," she admitted, her heart fluttering in her chest.

But Suguru's smile was infectious, his hand reaching out to gently pull her closer. "Come on," he urged, his voice soft and reassuring. "Let's lose ourselves in the music, just for tonight."

With a nod and a smile, the goddess allowed herself to be swept away by the intoxicating energy of the festival, her worries melting away in the warmth of Suguru's embrace. And as they danced beneath the starlit sky, their laughter ringing out like a melody, she knew that this night would be one she would never forget.

The square was alive with energy, pulsating with the rhythm of drums and the enchanting melodies of flutes. The air was thick with the scent of incense wafting from ornate altars and the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling delicacies from street vendors' stalls.

As they stepped into the bustling square, bathed in the warm glow of torches and lanterns, Suguru's hand found hers, his touch igniting a spark of excitement within her. With him by her side, she felt a surge of anticipation, eager to immerse herself in the festivities.

They moved through the lively crowd as one, their steps guided by the pulsating rhythm of the music. Laughter bubbled up between them, merging seamlessly with the joyful chatter of the revelers around them. With each step, they drank in the sights and sounds of the celebration, their spirits lifted by the vibrant atmosphere that surrounded them.

Amidst the swirling sea of dancers, Suguru pulled the goddess into his arms, guiding her in a lively dance that seemed to mirror the pulsing rhythm of their hearts. They moved with an effortless grace, twirling and spinning beneath the starry canopy above, lost in the magic of the moment.

As the night wore on and the festivities reached a crescendo, Suguru led the goddess to a secluded corner of the square, where they found a quiet spot to rest and catch their breath. There, under the soft glow of the moonlight, they shared stories and laughter, their words dancing like fireflies in the night.

Under the spell of the night, they indulged in the heady sweetness of wine, the rich liquid fueling their spirits and igniting a flame of desire within them. As they danced beneath the stars, the world around them blurred into a haze of joy and euphoria, each moment filled with the promise of something deeper, something more profound.

With each sip of wine, their inhibitions dissolved like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind only the raw, unbridled passion that simmered beneath the surface. And as the night unfurled its velvety cloak, Suguru's lips met hers in a tender kiss, the world around them seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving only the electric pulse of their shared desire. The touch of his lips against hers ignited a wildfire of longing within her, a hunger that burned hotter with each passing moment.

"Gods," Suguru whispered against her lips, his voice husky with desire. "I've wanted to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you."

The goddess could only respond with a soft moan of pleasure, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with a fervor born of longing and need. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the intoxicating taste of him, the heat of his body pressed against hers, and the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by passion.

"Suguru," she murmured breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper as their lips parted, "I've never felt this way before."

He gazed into her eyes, his own filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire. "Neither have I," he admitted, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along her cheek. "Being with you... it feels like coming home."

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in to kiss him once more, their connection growing stronger with each passing moment. "I don't want this night to end," she confessed, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Then let's make it last forever," Suguru replied, his voice filled with determination as he pulled her close, sealing their fate with another passionate kiss. And beneath the blanket of stars, they surrendered to the intoxicating allure of love, knowing that their hearts had found their true home in each other's embrace.

In the throes of passion, they surrendered to the pull of desire, their bodies melding together in a symphony of sensation and emotion. Wrapped in each other's arms, they lost themselves in the rapture of the moment, their hearts beating as one beneath the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

As the night wore on and the festivities reached their zenith, Suguru and his beloved goddess found themselves lost in each other's arms, wrapped together under the celestial canopy of stars. Their laughter, the beating of their hearts, is better than the sound of music outside the windows, filling the air with a sense of pure joy and abandon.

As the night deepened and the world around them faded into shadow, they found themselves entwined in each other's arms, lost in a sea of passion and desire. The soft glow of lanterns cast a warm halo around them, illuminating the contours of their bodies with a gentle radiance that seemed to dance and flicker with the rhythm of their hearts.

In that moment, there was no past, no future—only the exquisite beauty of the present, unfolding like a delicate flower in the darkness. And as they surrendered themselves to the ecstasy of the night, their souls intertwined in a symphony of love and longing, they knew that they had found something rare and precious—a love that would endure the test of time, burning bright like a beacon in the night.

"I never want this moment to end," Suguru confessed, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and desire.

"Nor do I," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in to capture his lips in a tender kiss. And in that fleeting moment, time stood still as they surrendered to the irresistible pull of their love, knowing that in each other's arms, they had found the true meaning of happiness.

And there she felt the thing called love.

She would never trade it for anything.

Not even staying as a god.

She wanted all of this, all of Suguru.

SHE WISHED SHE WAS THERE WHEN IT HAPPENED. In the quiet solitude of her chambers, the goddess's thoughts were consumed by visions of Suguru, her beloved musician. With each passing moment, her anticipation grew, like the rising crescendo of a symphony building to its climax. Despite the confines of her home, she felt as if she were transported to a world where only their love existed, where his music was the only language they needed to communicate.

As she gazed into the mirror, her reflection seemed to blur and fade, replaced by images of Suguru. She could almost hear the soft strumming of his instrument, feel the warmth of his voice wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, suspended in the ethereal realm where their souls intertwined through the power of music and emotion.

Each note that emanated from the depths of her imagination resonated with the deepest recesses of her heart, stirring emotions she had never known before. It was as if Suguru's melodies had become a part of her, weaving themselves into the fabric of her being and igniting a fire of passion that burned brighter with each passing beat.

In that fleeting moment, she found herself lost in the music, lost in the love that enveloped her like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. And as she closed her eyes and let the melodies wash over her, she knew that no matter the distance that separated them, their love would always find a way to unite them in the timeless symphony of their souls.

Despite the fleeting moments of solace she found in the anticipation of Suguru's music, fate intervened abruptly with the return of her mother, shattering her hopes of experiencing his melodies firsthand. With her sanctuary disrupted, the goddess was left with naught but the echoes of his music reverberating in the confines of her chamber, a bittersweet reminder of the love she longed to embrace.

Yet, even as the physical distance between them widened, the ethereal connection forged through Suguru's music remained steadfast, transcending the boundaries of time and space. In the gentle strains of his melodies, she found solace, a soothing balm to the ache of separation that gnawed at her soul.

Though they were separated by circumstance, their love endured, undaunted by the trials of distance. For as long as Suguru's music played, it served as a lifeline, a beacon guiding her through the tumultuous seas of longing and despair, reminding her that their hearts were forever entwined in the eternal symphony of love.

‘Sing beautifully, great musicians!’ The king of Via Nova said that night that it was full of people. He raised his can of wine in front of Suguru. It was the king’s birthday so he sent all the people to his kingdom. The king looked at his wife. ‘My dear queen, what music do you want to hear?’

‘I cannot think of anything, my dear king.’ Said the queen back. ‘Everything our dearest Suguru sang was full of joy and beauty.’

The king's words echoed through the grand hall, filled to the brim with revelers celebrating his birthday. Suguru stood before them, a sense of humility and reverence in his demeanor as he faced the royal couple. Despite the festive atmosphere, a somber note lingered in the air as the king called upon Suguru to grace the gathering with his music.

With a heavy heart, Suguru bowed his head in deference to the king and queen, his voice tinged with regret as he spoke. "Your majesty, my lady," he began, his tone apologetic, "I fear that tonight, my voice fails me. It is not fit to sing for such a joyous occasion."

The queen's gentle words of praise for his music only deepened Suguru's sense of remorse, knowing that he could not meet their expectations. Yet, before he could retreat into the shadows of self-doubt, Flavius, a fellow musician, stepped forward with a gesture of camaraderie and support.

"Dear friend," Flavius interjected, offering Suguru a drink with a reassuring smile, "Let us raise our glasses in honor of our king's birthday. May this wine revive your spirits and heal your throat, so that you may grace us with your melodious voice once more."

As Suguru raised the goblet to his lips, a sense of apprehension gnawed at him, mingling with the bitter taste of the wine. His gaze shifted to Flavius, who watched him with a smile that seemed to hold a hint of mischief beneath its surface. Despite his doubts, Suguru knew that he could not refuse the king's request, nor could he let down the gathered crowd who eagerly awaited his performance.

With a deep breath to steady his nerves, Suguru drained the goblet in one swift motion, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through his veins like a comforting embrace. As he took up his lyre and approached the royal couple, he felt a surge of determination welling within him, fueled by the camaraderie of his fellow musicians and the supportive presence of the gathered audience.

With each strum of his lyre, Suguru poured his heart and soul into the music, his fingers dancing across the strings with practiced precision. Despite the lingering strain in his voice, he sang with a passion and intensity that captivated the listeners, drawing them into the enchanting melody that filled the grand hall with its haunting beauty.

As the last notes of his song faded into the air, Suguru met the eyes of the king and queen, his expression a mix of relief and gratitude. Though the performance had been a challenge, he had risen to the occasion, thanks in no small part to the encouragement of his fellow musicians and the unwavering support of the gathered crowd. And as he bowed before the royal couple, he knew that he had done justice to the honor bestowed upon him, leaving a lasting impression on all who had witnessed his performance.

As the tragic scene unfolded before her, the goddess could scarcely believe her eyes. She watched in horror as the three Parcae, the arbiters of fate, stood ominously behind Suguru, their presence casting a shadow over the joyous celebration. Nona, with her golden thread of life, Decima, who measured its length, and Morta, wielding her thread clipper, seemed indifferent to the anguish that their actions wrought upon the mortal realm.

"Goddess," Suguru gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he crumpled to the ground, "help me."

The goddess pressed her hands against the mirror, her heart breaking at the sight of her beloved in agony. "Please, spare him," she pleaded with Parcae, her voice trembling with desperation. "He doesn't deserve this fate."

But Nona, Decima, and Morta remained unmoved, their expressions inscrutable as they carried out their duty without remorse or mercy.

The queen of Via Nova, her voice filled with anguish, cried out in despair, "Save him! Please, someone save him!"

Tears streaming down her cheeks, the goddess could only watch helplessly as Suguru's life slipped away before her eyes, the cruel hand of fate sealing his tragic demise. She longed to reach out to him, to beg and beg until her knees gave out at the Parcae to spare his life, but she knew that her cries would fall on deaf ears. With a heavy heart, she watched as Suguru collapsed to the floor, wracked with pain and sickness, his life extinguished by Morta's decisive cut.

Amidst the chaos and despair, the queen of Via Nova's anguished cry pierced the air, echoing the goddess's own grief and disbelief. The once vibrant celebration had been shattered, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss and despair. And as the reality of Suguru's fate sank in, the goddess could only mourn the untimely end of a life filled with beauty, passion, and promise.

Flavius killed him.

And did so with malice.

He was gone.

LIFE HAD LOST ALL ITS MEANING. The goddess's tears flowed like rivers, her heart heavy with the weight of sorrow and longing. Despite her divine powers, she was powerless to change the cruel hand of fate that had snatched Suguru away from her. The agony of losing him pierced her soul, leaving behind a gaping wound that no amount of time could heal.

In her grief, the goddess grappled with a tumult of emotions - anger, despair, and a profound sense of injustice. How could the Parcae, the arbiters of life and death, be so indifferent to the pain they inflicted? How could they tear Suguru from her side, leaving her to mourn his loss for eternity?

But amidst her anguish, the goddess also grappled with the bitter truth of their love. No matter how deeply she cared for Suguru, their bond was destined to be fraught with limitations. As a mortal, Suguru was bound by the constraints of time and mortality, while she, as a goddess, existed outside the realm of human experience.

Their love, no matter how pure and profound, could never transcend the vast chasm that separated their worlds. And though it pained her to accept, the goddess knew that their paths were destined to diverge, leaving her to carry the burden of their love alone.

No joy at the very end.

In the days that followed Suguru's passing, the goddess found herself consumed by an unyielding ache, a relentless longing that gnawed at her insides like a voracious beast. Despite her divine nature, she was unable to escape the searing pain of grief that gripped her heart in its icy embrace.

With each passing moment, the weight of Suguru's absence bore down upon her like a crushing burden, threatening to suffocate her with its oppressive force. She yearned to hold him once more, to feel the warmth of his embrace and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against her own.

Yet, even in death, Suguru remained beyond her reach, his mortal form consigned to the earth while she languished in the cold confines of immortality. The futility of her longing pierced her soul like a dagger, leaving her trembling with the agony of unfulfilled desire.

And yet, amidst the depths of her sorrow, the goddess found solace in the kindness of the king and queen, who had honored Suguru with a dignified burial befitting his stature as their favorite singer. Their gesture of compassion touched her deeply, serving as a beacon of light in the darkness of her grief.

In gratitude for their kindness, the goddess bestowed upon the king and queen her blessing, a gift of peace and pure love to accompany them on their journey through life. Though Suguru was gone, his memory lived on in the hearts of those who had loved him, a testament to the enduring power of his music and the boundless depths of his soul.

In the quiet moments that followed, the goddess found herself haunted by the echo of Suguru's voice, his melodic tones reverberating through the chambers of her mind like a haunting refrain. She closed her eyes, willing the memories of their time together to wash over her like a gentle tide, seeking solace in the sound of his voice that still lingered in her thoughts.

"Suguru," she whispered softly, her voice barely more than a breath. "I can still hear you."

The sound of his laughter, the timbre of his voice as he sang, it all played in her mind like a bittersweet melody, a reminder of the love they had shared and the loss she now endured.

"You were so full of life," she murmured, her heart heavy with longing. "How can you be gone?"

But even as she mourned his passing, the memory of Suguru remained a beacon of light in the darkness of her grief, a reminder of the beauty and joy he had brought into her life.

"I will never forget you," she vowed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Your music will live on in my heart, forever."

The goddess stood before the lifeless body of Suguru, her heart heavy with grief yet filled with a determination to honor his memory in a way that would transcend time itself. With a gentle touch, she closed her eyes and let her divine power flow through her, shaping and molding the essence of the man she had loved into something new.

As she worked, a sense of purpose filled her, driving her to create something beautiful out of the pain of loss. With each delicate movement of her hands, she fashioned the form of a bird, its feathers shimmering with the colors of sunset and dawn. And within its breast, she imbued the spirit of Suguru, his essence merging with the creature in a harmonious union.

When the transformation was complete, the goddess gazed upon her creation with a mixture of sadness and awe. The bird before her was a testament to the enduring power of love, a symbol of hope and renewal in the face of loss.

With a soft smile, the goddess released the bird into the sky, watching as it soared high above, its song echoing through the air like a melody of remembrance. And in that moment, she knew that Suguru would live on, not just in her memories, but in the very fabric of the world around her.

As long as she lives he will be with his beloved.

As long as nightingales sing, she will be with him.

She hopes one day that he comes to find her again.

thousands of years later, modern era;

SHE LIVED WAY TOO LONG SHE THINKS. In the vibrant chaos of Shibuya's bustling streets, the goddess found herself immersed in a whirlwind of sights and sounds that seemed to dance around her. Neon lights painted the pavement with kaleidoscopic hues, casting a luminous glow upon the bustling throngs of people weaving through the crowded sidewalks. Each passerby added to the symphony of the city, their voices blending into a cacophony of chatter that filled the air.

Amidst this vibrant tapestry, the goddess wandered, her senses alive with the pulse of modern Japan. The scent of street food wafted through the air, mingling with the tang of freshly brewed coffee and the faint hint of cherry blossoms. She drank in the energy of the city, feeling it pulse beneath her skin like a heartbeat that echoed the rhythm of life itself.

And then, like a gentle breeze stirring the stillness, a familiar melody drifted through the air, cutting through the noise of the bustling crowd. It was a song she knew well, one that resonated deep within her soul, tugging at the strings of her memory with a bittersweet tug.

Her steps faltered, her heart skipping a beat as she recognized the voice that carried the melody. It was a voice she hadn't heard in centuries, yet one that remained etched in her memory like an indelible mark. In that moment, amidst the chaos of Shibuya's streets, time seemed to stand still as she paused to listen, her senses fully attuned to the hauntingly beautiful sound that washed over her like a gentle tide.

For a fleeting instant, the goddess was transported back to a time long gone, a memory woven into the fabric of her existence. And as she stood there, enveloped in the music that spoke to her very essence, she couldn't help but feel a stirring of something deep within her—a longing, perhaps, or a yearning for a connection that had once been lost to the passage of time.

Frozen in place, the goddess felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her as she turned towards the source of the familiar melody. Amidst the throng of bustling bodies, there he stood—Suguru. But he was no longer the man she once knew. Time had etched its mark upon him, transforming him into someone almost unrecognizable.

His hair, once neatly trimmed, now cascaded down his back in a tangled cascade, pulled back into a messy bun adorned with intricate ornaments. His skin bore the ink of countless stories, tattoos that danced across his flesh like chapters in a book, each one a testament to the journey he had embarked upon since they last crossed paths.

And yet, despite the physical changes, there was something undeniably familiar about him—the warmth in his eyes that spoke of kindness, the passion in his voice as he poured his soul into the music that filled the air. It was as if beneath the layers of tattoos and piercings, his essence remained unchanged, a beacon of light amidst the chaos of the world around him.

With each strum of his guitar, Suguru wove a tapestry of emotions that seemed to reach out and touch the hearts of those who paused to listen. His voice, raw and untamed, carried with it a sense of vulnerability that spoke of a soul laid bare, unafraid to expose its deepest truths to the world. He still sang so beautifully. So wonderfully.

For the goddess, watching him from amidst the crowd, it was a poignant reminder of the passage of time and the inevitability of change. And yet, in that moment, as she stood there, enveloped in the music that flowed from his fingertips, she couldn't help but feel a sense of connection—a thread that bound them together across the vast expanse of years and distance, a reminder that some bonds were truly timeless.

As the goddess approached Suguru, her heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. With a hesitant smile, she spoke up, "Excuse me, your music is beautiful."

Suguru glanced up from his guitar, his expression friendly but devoid of recognition. Her heart melted. "Oh, thanks! Glad you think so," he replied, his voice warm and genuine.

There was a pang of disappointment in the goddess's chest, realizing that Suguru didn't remember her. But how could he, when thousands of years had passed? Suppressing her disappointment, she continued with a smile. "I couldn't help but notice... you seem familiar to me. You remind me of someone.”

Suguru shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. "Hmm, I don't think we’ve met before. But hey, who knows? Tokyo's a big place, but it's surprising how often paths cross."

The goddess nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "You're right about that. Well, regardless, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm just visiting from overseas."

Suguru grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. "Ah, a traveler! Welcome to Japan. I hope you're enjoying your time here."

"I am, thank you," she replied, her smile widening. "And thank you for the beautiful music. It's been a highlight of my trip."

Suguru's smile grew, genuine warmth radiating from him. "It's my pleasure. Music is meant to be shared, after all. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Tokyo."

With a nod of gratitude, the goddess bid Suguru farewell, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken memories. As she continued on her journey through the bustling streets of Shibuya, she couldn't help but wonder about the twists of fate that had brought them together once more, if only for a fleeting moment in time.

She was happy that he was happy in this life.

She was happy her nightingale still sings.

And so she thinks she can walk away well.

Because her nightingale would live and sing.

Even without her by his side, he’ll be alright.

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