#Greek god collab

[wooahaeproductions]

Forging the Threads of Time

Professor/Greek God Hephaestus Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, reincarnation au, fantasy au

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of Greek myths, mentions of death and sickness, kissing, smut (grinding, unprotected sex, sort of sub!Wonwoo, classroom sex, penetrative sex)

Rating: 18+

Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

Taglist: @black-swan-blog27 @fullmindlady @bbybnnuy

A/N: Well, this certainly was a labor of love and I really wish I'd had the time to expand on this world further but I really hope you enjoy reading this. I was honored to be a co-host of The 13 Gods of Olympus collab with Aeris @beomcoups and write this piece for it.

A big thank you to my beta readers for making sense of this: Jupiter @cheolism, Tara @diamonddaze01, and Haneul @chanranghaeys 💕

Lastly, thank you Sevn @aaagustd for the most beautiful banner. ~Maren

Wonwoo hadn’t been banished to earth for long, a bitter taste left in his mouth after what his mother and supposed wife had done to him. He had taken to frequenting speakeasies, some fancy, some considered a bit dodgy. That didn’t matter when all he was seeking was alcohol to ease the injustice he felt. And that’s when he met you, a bartender at one of the fancier places he had gone to. The first time he sat at your bar, you took one look at him and said, “You look like you could use a strong drink,” and proceeded to pour him a whisky.  He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to you, and when you looked at him, he could tell you felt it too.

From then on, he only frequented your speakeasy. Then he got the courage to ask you on a date. He began to court you. Frequent dates turned into a committed relationship, which turned into the two of you living together, and eventually marrying each other. That day of your marriage was the happiest out of all his lives. He didn’t know how, but being with you healed wounds that Aphrodite, his first wife in Olympus, had left him with. 

For the first and only time, Wonwoo had fallen in love with a mortal. 

And then, you became ill and his new world collapsed.

In the present, Wonwoo tossed and turned under the covers as images playing in his head invaded his sleep, images of you. Images of the first time he met you at the speakeasy, of him seeing you walking down the aisle when you got married, and unfortunately of your last moments in the hospital when your mortality proved itself to be all too real.

He awoke with a start, feeling unsettled. He hadn’t dreamt of you in decades, or at least it felt like decades. He couldn’t be sure since time passed differently for him. You had been mortal but Wonwoo was not. He was immortal; a god. The god Hephaestus to be exact, but he hadn’t gone by that name since the moment his mother banished him.

Wonwoo sighed, flinging an arm over to cover his eyes for a few seconds. He waited in early morning silence before turning over to see the time on his bedside clock. He groaned, realizing it was twenty minutes before his alarm for work sounded. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this point. Pushing the dreams to the back of his mind, he flipped off the covers and begrudgingly rolled out of bed. 

Wonwoo taught welding and metalworking at the local art college, and today was the beginning of the new semester. He had planned to be there early to make sure everything in his classroom was in order, but now he was kind of regretting that decision thanks to his disrupted sleep. 

He got dressed in a nice button-up and some slacks he had set out the night before. If he was a teacher for a more fancy subject like literature or history, he might have worn a suit. That didn’t fit his personality though. Before his banishment, working with metal and fire had been his whole life; it was part of his identity and something he found he didn’t want to change.

He paused in his bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and glance at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy before going down the hall to the living room. He grabbed his briefcase of class materials that were left on his desk when he finished planning the semester out last week and grabbed his phone from the charger that was there as well.

Finally, he made his way to the entry of his apartment and grabbed his welding helmet, gloves, and heavy-duty apron from the console table along with his keys before heading out the door. He took a quick glance at the time on his phone before pocketing it. He had plenty of time to grab coffee at the little shop near campus. 

Wonwoo had never been a breakfast person, so it was always a cup of coffee, usually an Americano in the morning. The only exception was the very rare occasion when his friend Mingyu, who happened to be the god Hestia and the owner of a nightclub on Earth, would make him breakfast.

Reaching his truck in the parking lot, Wonwoo unlocked the doors and put all his teaching items in the passenger seat. He then got in the driver’s seat and when he put the key in the ignition, he was met with the classical music he had on when he was last in the car, specifically Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”. He wasn’t much of a music person because it changed so much; He’d rather listen to things that hadn’t changed in the hundreds of years he had been earthbound. 

He pulled out of his parking spot and started to drive toward the coffee shop. Autumn was beginning to edge out the summer, the leaves on trees and bushes near the sidewalks were slowly turning orange and red.  Wonwoo had noticed there was a slight chill in the air that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. 

It was also Fall when he met you for the first time. Another thing that he chose to try to ignore and force to the depths of his brain, but a clenching in his heart and the feeling of helplessness happened anyway. He continued to stifle it down as he drove.

A quick few minutes later, he was pulling into a parking spot at the cafe. It was a little busier than usual, most likely due to it being the start of the new semester and more students were stopping by to get their caffeinated pick-me-ups. He got out of his truck and walked inside the shop, the door making a ringing sound to indicate a person had come in. 

Wonwoo was very much a regular at the shop and before he could even think about getting in line, one of the baristas held up a to-go cup to indicate his drink was ready for him and set it by the register for when he got to the front of the line. They were moving quickly and it didn’t take long for him to get there. 

“Good Morning, Wonwoo. Here is your Americano,” the girl at the register said as she handed him the drink and punched the correct codes into the register. 

He stuffed a hand in his pocket, producing a five-dollar bill, and handed it to her. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of using a plastic card to pay for things. She handed him back his change, which was only a few cents, and he immediately stuck it in the tip jar in front. Despite always using cash, he didn’t like his pockets to jingle. He gave a small wave of thanks and then left the cafe. 

He got back into his truck, setting his coffee down in the cup holder. He glanced at the truck’s console, checking the clock for a third time. By now, it was 7:30 AM and class started in an hour. He had plenty of time to get ready for class. He pulled out of the cafe’s parking lot and drove only a few streets over to where the college campus was located. The welding department was toward the back of campus and had its own little lot for parking with only a short walk to all the classrooms.

Getting out of the car, Wonwoo grabbed his coffee from the cup holder and set it on the roof of his truck. He reached back through the car, putting all the things he sat in the passenger seat earlier this morning in his arms before shutting the car door with his hip and grabbing his coffee cup once more. 

Wonwoo walked to his classroom door and realized he didn’t have enough hands to pull the door key out of his pocket. He gave an exasperated sigh, setting the coffee cup on the ground just enough out of the way of the door so that he could get the keys out to unlock it. He unlocked the door and flung it open, his leg keeping it open long enough for him to slip the keys back into his pocket and get his abandoned coffee before it slammed shut behind him.

It was dark, the only light coming from the two windows in the front. Since he had no available hands to turn on the light switch, Wonwoo slowly made his way to his desk in the half-light and unloaded everything he had in his arms. He walked back over near the door and flipped the lights on, making himself squint slightly from the sudden light. Back at his desk, he finished off what was left of his coffee and went to work getting his classroom ready for the students who would arrive shortly. 

Eventually, all the student desks had been set up with the supplies the school provided for each student, although today was mostly going to just be for talking about the class expectations. Wonwoo had planned to give them a small demonstration of what they would end up learning and had his own welding desk set up with a few metal sheets that he would weld together. They would use that process to make whatever project they picked out to make during the semester.

Wonwoo stood up from his desk and students started to trickle in, a stack of paper syllabi in his hands. He was old school in that way and he had printed them the night before and put them in his briefcase. As each student sat down, he set a syllabus on the desk in front of them. He had developed a bit of rhythm, that is until he saw you walk in the classroom and he came to a dead stop. There was no doubt in his mind who you were, you even looked identical despite wearing modern clothing. First, the dreams from this morning and now this. What sort of sick plan did fate have?

You walked into the welding classroom, your first class of the day. You weren’t even sure why you signed up for the class but it was a good elective to take, and maybe it might even turn out to be a fun one. As you made your way to a desk, you felt as if there were eyes on you. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, like when you could tell a man was ogling you. You sat down at a desk and looked up to the front, finding who you assumed to be the teacher, frozen with papers in his hands and staring. His were the eyes that were staring at you, almost like they were trying to burn a hole through your body. Your eyes eventually met with his and unexpectedly, you couldn’t look away either. What was this sudden warm and magnetic feeling?  

Finally, he looked away and it felt like someone had snapped a chord. It felt like you had been in a trance of sorts, and you hoped only a few minutes had passed. You put your school bag and materials for the class on the floor next to you and turned your focus on the syllabus that had been sitting on your desk while the rest of the students filled the classroom. Once the teacher, Mr. Jeon or Wonwoo, as he introduced himself as later, felt everyone had shown up for class, he started explaining the syllabus and demonstrating some of the things you would learn with him that semester including stick welding, which was the main type you’d be using for the project listed in the syllabus. 

You kept stealing glances at the man, noticing how handsome he was. He was built, not in a bodybuilder way, but in a way you could tell had honed over time due to his metal working. Yet at the same time, he gave off a bookish aura when he occasionally slipped the pair of glasses he had sitting at his desk on. All the while you could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to you, that he was someone to you. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing.

You left the class an hour later, still feeling bewildered. For the rest of the day, your thoughts were filled with him and who he could be. Did you know him as a child? Was this a deja vu situation? Or was this even deeper, like knowing him from a past life or something like that? You didn’t like this not knowing, so you decided there was really only one way to figure out what this was. You needed to get to know him. More precisely, you needed to ask him on a date. Sure, he was a teacher and that was generally taboo territory even if you were both adults but you needed to know what this feeling was, who he was.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was apprehensive and questioned lots of things after class had ended. Was it actually you? It certainly felt like you. Just like the dream he had early that morning, he found himself wary of the timing. Why was the universe putting you here and now after all that time? Wonwoo knew what happened before. He didn’t think he could take it if he lost you the same way again. He nearly lost himself before and he couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if the same thing were to happen for a second time. So just like that, Wonwoo made up his mind. No matter how strong the connection felt between you two, he was determined to keep you at arm’s length.

A week or so had passed and to Wonwoo’s annoyance, the feeling had not gone away at all. In fact, he felt it was stronger. The more he tried to resist your stares and signs of flirting, the stronger the pull felt. He felt surges of electricity when your hands brushed against each other when he gave you handouts. He knew you purposely would ask for help when you were practicing welding techniques, just so that the two of you could have the slightest contact even though he knew darn well you didn’t need help at all. Wonwoo hated it. He wanted you so bad but at the same time, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

You didn’t understand. 

You were pulling all the subtle advances you could think of without blatant flirting and your teacher would not budge. You could tell he felt the same things you did, the same charge when you touched. There was a familiar warmth and comfort when you felt his arms against your back while helping you weld, something that felt like love but there was no way you could feel that way this soon, right?  

You had already decided to ask him out eventually, but you were hoping you could get him to warm up to you first so that it would be simple for him to say “yes” or perhaps even to ask you out instead. It seemed he wasn’t going to make it easy on you, hesitating for whatever reason unknown to you. You made the official decision, you would ask him out. Today.

You purposely waited until all the other students had left the classroom, putting your materials away slowly at your desk and in your book bag. Wonwoo had returned to sit at his desk, also cleaning up materials from today’s class. Once all the others were gone, you made your way to the front and stood in front of his desk. He didn’t look up for what felt like ten minutes but it was probably only a few. He was ignoring you, whether it was on purpose or not you didn’t know. 

When Wonwoo finally did look up he asked, “Is there something else I can help you with Y/N?”

“Yeah, you can help me by going on a date with me,” you said boldly and matter-of-factly. 

Wonwoo let out an audible sigh and rubbed at his face in unease. “Y/N, I’m your teacher,” he responded, using a more valid reason to refuse you instead of just his feelings. 

“I know. It’s frowned upon, sure, but it’s not against the rules. I’ve never been one to shy away from taking risks. So let’s go on a date,” you persuaded. 

“No.” Wonwoo definitely was not going to make this simple. 

You scoffed. “Fine, but I’ll just ask you again until you agree to it.” Then you walked out of the classroom, leaving Wonwoo with a slight scowl on his face. There was no way you were going to give up that quickly. You needed to know what this was.

Over the next three days, you asked him out after class again and again, his answer always being a firm “no”. Wonwoo was determined not to let heartbreak and the complete destruction of his supposedly safer world happen again, even if that meant a mild version of it now from rejecting you so many times. To him, that would be a gentle pain compared to being together and losing you for a second time. And that was much more acceptable in his eyes.

On day four, Wonwoo was prepared with his repeated answer. Except you had a different question this time.

“Can I just ask why?” you asked, standing up at your desk before leaving class. “We both know the fact that you are my teacher isn’t the real reason.” You sounded a bit exasperated now, you had never been rejected this many times.

Wonwoo contemplated, coming to stand closer to you, almost nose to nose before he said, ”I’m not sure you would believe my real reason.”

“Try me,” you challenged, the now normal charge pulsing between you two.

Wonwoo gave you a hard stare. Maybe if he did tell you, you’d think he was insane and you would finally give up. “I’m not human,” he said simply.

You squinted at him. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m not a human. I’m a God. They called me Hephaestus,” Wonwoo said, wincing a bit as he spoke his previous name. To his surprise, you didn’t call him crazy. He watched as the wheels in your mind turned.

You didn’t know if you believed him, but you didn’t exactly think he was lying either. You gave a small laugh thinking of how ironic it was for him to be a welding teacher. 

“See. You think I’m nuts,” he said, misunderstanding your giggle.

“No, no, actually I’m pretty sure I believe you. But you being a god doesn’t deter me. In fact, it makes me more interested. There’s no way you just being a god or whatever is what is making me feel like I belong with you, like I need to be with you,” you clarified.

Wonwoo’s eyes widened a bit. He knew what he felt with you and he knew it was possible that you had too, but maybe not the magnitude of it. “You’re her reincarnation. She’s you. You’re her,” he said, softly. A note of sadness seeped through his words now. 

“Who?” you asked, needing to know more. 

“The only true love I ever had. After I was kicked out of Olympus and sent to Earth by my mother.” 

Now you thought you got it. The reason you had all these unexplainable feelings, why you felt like you knew Wonwoo already, why you felt so connected to him. It was because you did know him, albeit in a different lifetime. You had been with him, you had loved him and he had definitely loved you. But there was still something you didn’t get. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you again then?

“There’s still something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” you questioned.

Wonwoo looked down at his feet and you barely made out the words that he responded with. “You were sick. You died.” 

Your heart dropped and you felt a piece was broken, for him and for your previous self. But you were a new person now, it might not end that way with you. Next thing you knew, you were closing the space between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. He backed up, trying not to give in to you but all that resulted in was you pinning him against the classroom wall. 

At first, he just stood there, frozen. However, he could no longer deny his body’s chemistry with yours and in a split second decided he no longer wanted to fight it. He kissed you back and somehow the entire universe felt like it had been righted after so long. Suddenly, he didn’t care that his heart could break again and never be repaired. Kissing you, touching you made it feel like that could never happen to him again.

Since he seemed to reciprocate your advances now, you moved your arms from caging him against the wall and instead ran your fingertips underneath his shirt, just at the edge of his slacks. Even touching his skin felt right and familiar to you. There really was this unparalleled feeling that was felt with nobody else but him. Despite being annoyed with him previously, you felt his devotion to the you from before and wanted to take your time with him.

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, taking it off and revealing the abs you knew were under it. You knew they were there, yet you still gasped at how lovely they looked. Wonwoo reached forward and pulled your shirt off as well, leaving you in your bra. Soon both of your pants and undergarments had been taken off, the two of you completely exposed in the classroom. 

Wonwoo ran his hands along various parts of your skin, igniting that ever-present electricity. He pushed you against the edge of his desk as his exposed length rubbed against you, making you wetter by the second. 

You took back control, pulling his arm to make him sit in the chair behind the desk. He looked up at you, his face full of adoration as you moved to straddle him. You started slowly, gradually grinding against him, wanting to show him a more gentle side. 

“Fuck.” He let out the word in a deep breath as you continued to grind your slit against him. The word seared straight to your core and you needed him in you now. 

“Wonwoo, I need to ride you,” you whined, calling him by his first name. He nodded and let you gradually sink onto him, taking your hips into his warm, large hands once you bottomed out. A moment later, you had adjusted to his size and you began moving your hips which elicited a hiss from Wonwoo. 

You glanced at him, making sure this was okay. “It’s okay, it feels really good,” He confirmed, encouraging you to keep moving. 

You picked up the rhythm, creating a steady pace as you rode him in the chair. Both of your voices echoed in the classroom, moans confirming your pleasure and you were so glad he didn’t have any classes after yours.

Wonwoo’s hips began to stutter and the moans he was letting out before were turning into whimpers. You were sure he was getting close to a release. Then you shifted in his lap just slightly so that he was hitting that particular spot within you. “Y/N, I’m gonna…” He whispered.

“Me too,” you responded. As soon as you spoke those words, his hips stilled and ropes of his cum painted your insides. He leaned forward to kiss you while his length continued to jerk. The force of his orgasm led you to your own, one so intense it left you weak in the knees and lightheaded. You ended up slightly limp in his lap, resting your head on his broad shoulder. 

You didn’t remember him pulling out or moving you to sit in his lap like a little kid. A minute or two later, the post-orgasm haze had worn off and you felt like you needed to say something. “I know we are connected and I kind of pushed you into kissing me first. I know I’m supposed to be a reincarnation of your true love but I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said, rambling in a little embarrassment and a small bit of guilt for pulling Wonwoo further into this whole thing. 

“So you regret it?” Wonwoo asked, a strange deadpan tone to his voice and he moved his hands that were just cradling the small of your back. He just made the choice to move ahead with you and now you were already regretting it?

“No, No. I didn’t mean that. I regret nothing. Do you?” You asked with a raised eyebrow at his reaction. It sounded like he was finally letting himself be free from what was holding him back from you. You didn’t mean for it to sound like you didn’t want everything you just did.

Eventually, he answered. “No, I don’t,” he said with a bit of a chuckle and kissed you on the forehead before you got up from his lap. 

You smiled at him cheekily then. “Good.”

What’s the worst that could happen? Well, Wonwoo already knew the worst thing that could but maybe, just maybe fate wouldn’t be cruel and this time might end differently. He decided he would take that chance with you.

©️wooahaeproductions

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[staytinyville]

For the Greek God Collab hosted by @wooahaeproductions and @beomcoups . You can find that here: The 13 Gods of Olympus: A Seventeen Collab

➵Title: Orion’s Constellation ➵Pairings: God!Vernon x Hunter!Reader , Vernon x Reader ➵Greek God: Artemis ➵Genre: Fluff ➵Word Count: 6.7k ➵Rating: T for Teen ➵Summary: The story goes that Artemis fell in love with Orion but Apollo was jealous of that love. So he tricked Artemis into killing her love. This is a different retelling. One where rather then the huntress killing the hunter—the hunter followed the orders of the gods. And was repaid graciously.

➵A/N: This isn't Beta Read. I on gawd just finished this lol. This could have been way better I will be honest but I kind of had a writers block. Also no smut because As you can tell Vernon got the virgin goddess so NO SEX!

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↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @aaagustd for the amazing banner! Go check out her fics as well as the one she has in this colab!

It wasn’t necessarily prohibited to enter the Forest of the Gods, but there were rules to follow. You grew up on the stories each devoted follower would tell you. How someone–if you were lucky enough–you could come across a nymph or mythological monster within the woods. You hadn’t had the chance to actually see them but you have heard them. 

Oh, how much you actually want to see them, get the chance to say you saw an actual nymph.  But you knew better than to anger the gods. You valued your life much more than the curiosity you had. But just because you were cautious doesn’t mean everyone else was. 

You were cleaning your weapons by a river when you suddenly froze at the sound of something getting closer. You didn’t think much of it, not until the sound of giggling reached your ears. At that moment you were sure, they hadn’t noticed your presence. 

It wouldn’t be your fault you saw them but the gods were unforgiving. They acted before someone had the chance to explain. So you tried to quickly gather your stuff, almost dropping things in your haste, before a sound caught you off guard. 

Screams came from around the trees, the giggles having come to an abrupt stop. The screams grew louder, your body moving into action as you raced towards the fight. Your eyes went wide at the large monster scorpion that was terrorizing what you assumed to be nymphs. 

The large insect had one nymph cornered, leaning over them as it geared up its stinger. You felt a shot of adrenaline hit you, pulling out your sword before charging without a thought. You had let out a loud scream when your sword came in contact with a leg, quickly slicing it off. 

You realized what you had done the moment the creature wheezed and yelled from your assault. It quickly turned around ready to charge at you.

“Run!” You screamed at the nymphs. 

The nymphs all began to scatter, not wanting to stay and chat any longer. You didn’t get the chance to see but they were all quickly turned into birds flying high into the trees from any danger. 

You were left in the clearing alone with the angry beast, taking in a deep breath as you began to feel the terror that was intertwining with your nerves. “Oh, Gods of the Forest, please help me.”

The monster had a tough exoskeleton, so you knew the battle was going to be hard. But just like everyone else, this monster must have had a soft spot. Between each joint was an opening, something you knew from where you had cut its leg off. 

So going off that, there must have been an opening in its neck. However, reaching that area was easier said than done. 

By the time you found your opening, you had been thrown into trees, trampled on, almost stabbed twice, and your body was wearing thin. You were on your last bouts of energy–at this point it seemed like you were running off adrenaline. 

Taking in a deep breath, you charged forward without thought, arms raised and sword ready to pierce through. You slid along the ground, coming under the monster's body. With as much force as you could muster, you quickly shoved your weapon into the scorpion's jugular. 

It screamed and withered, its tail trying to curl up to get you out from under it. However you stayed attached by your sword, back scraping against the forest floor as the monster pushed and pulled. 

It wasn’t until finally the scorpion moved off to the side that your sword sliced through its neck. It had screamed one last time before ultimately falling over you, crushing your body. 

Before the tiredness rushed into your system, you struggled to get out. And once you were free you felt everything begin to shut down. You laid panting on your back, eyes looking up past the treeline to follow the clouds. 

Just before the throws of unconsciousness hit you, you saw him. 

He stood there watching over you as the light seemed to cast a glow behind him. You couldn’t see him just yet but you could make out his tunic and the golden crown of leaves he wore atop his head. 

You didn’t want to go to sleep–not when you finally had the chance to see a god up close. But it was hard to stay awake. Even if your brain was–your body was telling you not to. Your fingers twitched at your side, mouth opening and closing as it wanted to say something to him. 

But you couldn’t.

And when he leaned closer, eyes curious, you wished you had more time. But you got the chance to see his breathtaking smile–the love in his eyes as they looked at you. You heard his voice, just before falling into the otherworld. 

And the moment his deep soothing tone hit your ears, it was like a lullaby that put you to sleep.

“You did well.” 

**

It was dark by the time you came to. 

Not only was it dark, but you also found yourself waking up in your own bed with your blanket tucked tightly around you. Your fingers clenched and unclenched your bedding, face scrunching up as you tried to remember how it was you got home. 

You began to pout, feeling frustrated with yourself over the whole ordeal. It bothered you how you felt like half of your memory was missing. At least enough to where you didn’t know if you had actually made it home safely or if someone had stopped you and you just trudged your way home all sad and alone. 

Just as you began to move your feet to crawl out of bed, you suddenly came to a stop as memories of the day came rushing back. 

The scorpion, you remember, defeating and having it almost crush you. The nymphs that you seem to vaguely remember protecting. But most importantly the man who watched over you as you fell unconscious. 

You could remember his smile, the way it grew as he seemed to watch you. His eyes were curious, full of something that seemed to make you blush as you remembered it all. It made you smile bashfully, the feeling of want spreading across your chest. 

You glanced towards your window, seeing the moon high in the sky as it watched over you. You didn’t know for how long you had been resting, but it seemed like your body was ready to get up again. You still felt sore but you amounted that to the bruising you had from the hits. 

Without really knowing why, you felt yourself wanting to go outside–follow along with the wind as the moon shined down. And you didn’t try to fight it. Instead you allowed it to take you outside and into the breeze. 

You felt the air cool down your body from your heated nap. It also felt a bit better on your stinging skin. It was like an ice pack was attached. You closed your eyes as you took in a deep breath from the soothing weather. 

You could feel the moon shining down on your skin. It felt like someone wanted to hug you–like they were trying to show you how appreciative they were. Your feet moved without your consciousness, dragging along the floor as you kept your eyes shut. They were being kissed by the moon’s light, something you found yourself falling in love with. 

You stopped just at the edge of the God’s Forest. Your eyes opened to the trail that led into it, the leaves of the trees draped over the ground like a canopy. It looked beautiful on that night. No scary creatures to catch up to you–only the call of soft whispers coming from the wind. 

You weren’t terrified. You didn’t feel a lick of negative emotions as you traversed into the forest. It was the time most mortals wouldn’t dare to travel into the god’s realm. The night was when the monsters and horrors would come out to find a sad soul who got lost during the day. But you felt something shrouding you, protecting you from the eyes of those that wish to harm you. 

You could hear the splashing water before you could see it. The soft cries of playing puppies entered your ears and it made you smile to finally be able to catch the glimpses of the animals playing in the water. 

There were five puppies all biting and running around with each other while the mother laid a few paces away watching them. They were quick to hear you coming, freezing in their wakes as they turned their heads to watch you. 

They kept their curious eyes on you, but still you stopped moving for fear they would attack. But their mother didn’t get up from her spot, nor did she shift much other than lift her head to get a better look at you. 

All of you waited for the other to do something. You took the first step and smiled at the energetic puppies. 

“Hi.” You squeaked out. 

They barked at you and each other, quickly rushing towards you to get some pets and nibble on your ankles. You giggled to yourself, quickly crouching down to give them the attention they wanted. You didn’t dare to keep from looking at their mother for too long, the animal still keeping a watchful eye on you. 

Your head snapped up the same time the mother’s did as a whistle sound came from within the trees. The puppies all stopped their musings, quickly yapping away as they took off towards the sound. The mother stood up and watched them all go for a moment before turning to look at you. She waited for a moment–waited for you to move forward. 

And when you did, she allowed you to follow behind her puppies. You glanced around, smiling to yourself as the trees started to open more for the moon to shine through. You closed your eyes feeling it glow down on your face. The yipping of the puppies grew louder but softer as they seemed to rush towards something pulling you out of your stupor. 

You opened your eyes, finding them rushing towards a cottage. It had smoke coming out from the chimney, the door opened wide to allow the air to blow through. The mother seemed to brush past you in a hurry, tongue lolled out as she seemed to be in a playful mood. 

More dogs were heard behind the home, some more coming out from within the trees surrounding the clearing. More dogs seemed to come out from behind you, pushing you more forward towards where they seemed to be going. You followed through, walking towards the back of the cottage where there seemed to be a large field. 

It was a large merging of hound dogs that seemed to be of all ages and sizes. Puppies trying to nip at the senior dogs who walked with limps but still seemed to be happy about their travels.  They were being fed by the people of the forest from what you could see. As you grew closer, no one seemed to pay you any mind, just trying to feed all the animals that patiently waited for their time to eat. 

You bowed your head to the people who looked at you, a majority of people had weapons on their backs that told you exactly who they were. You stopped in the middle of the space, looking around in all directions–waiting to be told that you were not supposed to be there. But they didn’t seem to mind you, going about their business. 

“You’re here.”

You turned your head quickly trying to find the person who spoke to you. 

He had a bright smile on his face, his teeth a bright white that seemed to look like the color of the moon. His eyes were sparkling as he casually walked closer to you. You felt your heart rate pick up at the way he seemed to be looking at you. It was a soft look, one that reminded you of a lover you never had. 

A blush overcame your face as he finally came to stand in front of you. You could see everything of him up close now. You could feel his energy–it was something that radiated an energy you couldn’t explain. 

He was a god. You knew that the moment he looked at you. But what’s more–why would a god like him look at you like you were the most precious thing out there?

“You’re him–” You sputtered. “You’re the god–”

“Vernon.” He whispered, stopping you with a soft laugh. 

“I want you to call me Vernon.” He repeated. 

You gasped to yourself, looking around in a panic before bowing your head. 

“No, you don’t have to do that.” He laughed, hands going around your biceps to make you stand back up. 

The flush on your face only seemed to go further down as you realized the god of the moon was touching you. He actually dared to put his hands on a mere mortal like you. What was going on today?

“You’re-You’re touching me.” You wheezed out.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t ask.” He quickly pulled back, worried he had offended you. 

“No-No-You can touch me all you want–” You purse your lips at how odd that sounded. 

You watched as his eyes went wide and he stared at you trying to hold in his laughter. 

“I mean, not in that way obviously because you're also the god of virginity which would be weird if you thought about that in a sexual way. I really doubt you did in the first place–”

“You’re not as smart in talking as you are while fighting.” He cut you off, laughing loud.

You immediately pressed your lips together, the heat just about to get to you as it only seemed to raise your body temperature even further. But once his words seemed to register, you realized something.

“It was you.” You spoke out loud. “When I was fighting that monster.”

He smiled beautifully at you. “You fought really well. The nymphs told me they were so glad you came to save them.”

“Anyone would have done it.” You quickly answered. 

Vernon shook his head. “I believe only someone like you would be capable.”

He smiled again, nodding his head behind him to get you to follow him. You took one more glance around at the dogs and people finally concluding that these were the amazons of the forest. The warriors who hunted with such skill. 

You almost tripped as something seemed to stop at your feet. Looking down you caught sight of a puppy with its tongue sticking out as it looked up at you. You smiled bending down to give him a head pat. He was brown-golden color, around the age of 3 months if you were to go off his size. 

You knew dogs like him were not common in your world and if they were they were surely going to be expensive to buy. He still yipped behind you, happily trotting at your side as you followed his master. 

You were giggling as you looked down at him, not looking up until you bumped into something. Letting out a soft omph sound as you quickly looked up to find Vernon trying to stifle his laughter. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you with a smile. 

You nodded, a bright flush to your cheeks as your lips pulled up. Vernon looked down to the puppy at your feet, bending down to pet him. 

“Most of the pups don’t have names yet. Would you like to give him one?”

“Orion.” You quickly said, not bothering to think on it.

Vernon’s eyebrows went up but he didn’t comment on the name you gave him. “Orion then.”

He showed you his home–the small cottage at the end of the clearing you had passed on the way to follow after the dogs. It was homey enough for the one man. He had everything he needed for his hunting equipment and furniture. It was a beautiful home that made you want to stay all day and night. It made you want to stay within his embrace. 

“It’s not much but it’s home.” Vernon spoke up, moving to take some dirty clothes off the couch. 

“It’s more than enough.” You absentmindedly said. 

“Stay for dinner?” 

And you did. You also stayed the rest of the night until morning. And then you stayed that night too–going out hunting with him for the first time during the day. It was absolutly amazing to see a god like him in his actual element. 

You spent days going back into the forest getting to fight alongside him and the amazons. You learned from each other. You relished in each moment you spent together. It was more than what you could ever learn to feel for someone else. 

And then came the day that he had asked you to go hunting during the night. 

It was different than watching him durning the day in the sun. At night he would glow–he seemed more powerful. It was his destiny to be a hunter but it was more when he would go hunting at night. 

“White stags usually come out at this time of the day.” Her explained, walking so quietly you wondered if he was even touching the ground. 

“There is more than one?” You asked. 

“There have been many who dared to break the rules of the forest.” He said ominously. 

“Stop.” He whispered, hand in front of you to keep from moving further. 

You waited with a bated breath as he moved around your front, allowing you to see the most beautiful animal you had ever seen. It was large, with 10 point antlers that seemed to stretch up into the treetops. It looked powerful even if all it was doing was eating gross.

“Take the shot.” You heard the whisper behind you in your ear. 

You gasped quietly, hands shaking as they gripped your bow. Your eyes didn’t dare to move from the stag but you began to feel your body heat up from how close Vernon was to you. You could feel his breath on your neck, feel the hairs on your arms start to rise as his hands hovered over you. 

Your bow raised, but you kept still–trying to find the perfect aim. However as the deer raised its head you felt your breath get caught in your throat. You couldn’t tell if it had found your position, but it felt like it was looking at you. 

Even if the human had gone against the will of the gods, you couldn’t kill something that used to be a human. 

“I can’t do it.” You said to yourself, lowering your arms. 

It was quiet for the longest of times, the only sound being the wind that blew around you. You felt Vernon leave your side–felt his heat drop leaving you to fend in the cold. Your mouth twitched as a frown was about to overcome you. You wanted to turn around and come face to face with him–see if he was actually disappointed. 

But before you could, you saw his bright light coming from around the trees that surrounded the stag. The animal didn’t flinch, it only turned its head to the god as he grew closer. Vernon held his hand out, waiting for the animal to allow him room to reach further for him. All he did was pet the animal, smiling to himself as he happily continued. 

“You’re strong.” Vernon calmly stated. “Any other hunter would have taken the shot without hesitating.”

He continued to calmly pet the deer’s neck. You placed your bow back on your back, softly walking closer in fear of having the stag run away. But it stayed, allowing Vernon to continue his ministries. 

“The white stag is one of the greatest hunts anyone could ever have. But they too have lives and treasures they valued.” Vernon turned to you, grabbing onto your hand gently. 

He pulled it up to the deers snout, you flinching just a bit as the cold snout touched your skin. 

“They might have been humans in their past lives and were forced to atone for their sins but they were still human. It takes a real mortal to know when to stop.”

You began to giggle as the animal licked at your palm, trying to get the salt from your sweat. You could feel Vernon’s stare on you as you enjoyed your time within his forest realm. It was something that made him so happy to know that someone like you was out there to showcase what the good side of humanity was like. 

“I love you.”

When you froze, the animal had stopped licking your palm sensing your change in emotions. But you didn’t care. All you could hear was the sound of your heart beat. All you could see was Vernon’s heavenly glow in front of you. All you could feel was the strong impending high of falling in love. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the truth behind a god’s words. You knew what you had always felt from him the moment he allowed himself to be in front of you. You were alucky soul to even get the chance to see a god in person without getting turned into some kind of animal. 

And even more, nothing could have prepared you when it came to falling in love with a god. 

“Why?” You asked out loud, trying to understand the feelings of a god.

Vernon chuckled, turning away from the stag to face you fully. He reached a hand to your face, softly rubbing at your cheek with his thumb. 

“You are so much more than just a mere mortal. You are an amazing person with such an amazing heart. The moment I saw you throw yourself head first into that scorpion to defend the nymphs I knew you were a valuable hunter.”

He drew his face closer to yours, leaning down to brush his nose with yours. 

“You’ve come to mean so much to me, that I can’t bear to see you hurting.”

“Then don’t allow me to hurt.” You whispered. “Please.”

“Never.”

And his lips pressed against yours. 

It was an unexplainable feeling being kissed by a god. You’ve heard the stories of being blessed but never something as powerful as being loved by one. You could never dare to tell anyone of this hidden secret. You didn’t want to share his love with others. It was only for you and you alone. 

You could feel his lips warm against your own. Feel how he seemed to pour everything he had into you. You wanted to think he was giving you life if only for a moment. But in reality it was just the amount of love you both had for one another. 

There was nothing better than getting to love a god. 

But god’s were not meant to love mortals. 

**

You didn’t even get the chance to enjoy your love high for more than a couple hours because when you returned home that morning things made you remember that you were only a mortal in the eyes of those who lived in the heavens. 

The sun was shining brightly in the sky. It was still early enough to catch the birds making their way and the villagers waking up to start their chores. It was fresh, enough to know that today was going to be a good weather kind of day. 

But it wasn’t for you.

There was no sign of someone breaking into your home. All the doors and windows were locked and all of your things were still where they should be. 

It was the person sitting calmly at your eating table that made you gasp and reach for your bow. 

You were quick to reel it back and notch a bow. Aiming it directly at the man who sat calmly at the table. He only took a sip of whatever drink he had helped himself to and turned to you with a stoic expression. 

“You’re home.” He spoke calmly. 

“Who are you?” You demand, tightening your hand on the string. 

“How rude of me.” He stood up. 

He wasn’t the tallest of people but he was large in build. He was well put together not a single hair out of place nor a blemish on his face. 

He was godly. Something you realized the more you looked at him. It only seemed to be more true with how the sun casted behind him in a glow that made him look more powerful. It didn’t take you long to know who he was. 

“You’re the sun god.” You spoke quietly, lowering your bow. 

He turned to look behind him at the window that had the sun shining through it. “What gave it away?” 

There was something about this god that bothered you. He was intimidating in a way that left you scared of saying/doing something he didn’t like. He was one of the god who would turn you into a stag if he so pleased. 

“You should know by now I’m not here for formalities.” He grew closer to you, almost nose to nose. “To put it simply, I want you to stay away from my brother.”

Your breath got caught in your throat, words not able to form from how you could feel the world around you caving in. 

There are consequences–there will always be consequences to interacting with a god. And to love one in a romantic sense? Those usually end with tragedies. It was always like that–someone falling in love with a god and another doesn’t like that. And now that it was voiced, you knew someone else was bound to know. 

“Your silence tells me you’ll follow my rule.” He pulled back, nose turned up. “Good.” 

He didn’t say anymore, moving by you without so much as a glance. You could feel everything within you falling. It felt shattering to think about how you would no longer get to see Vernon. It made you mad–angry for Vernon to know that his brother was dictating his life. 

But you knew better–even if one god loved you, the others would still see you as a mortal. And yet you couldn’t let go.

“Why?” 

The god stopped, sighing deeply before turning around. “Why what?”

“Why-” You paused looking down to the floor because of how scared you were. “Why can’t I see him?”

Woozi frowned, giving you a look that made you feel incompetent. “Are you asking a god why they are telling you to do something?” He questioned. 

You were once again caught off guard, knowing you were in no position to question a god. But you didn’t want to give up on that kind of love. Not when you felt something so special.

“I’ll put it this way, if you don’t stop seeing Vernon you’re punishment will hurt more than just you.” 

Your first thought was Vernon. You couldn’t possibly know what Woozi had in mind but you couldn’t bear the thought of having him heartbroken. You had no clue what the sun god was capable of. But from the other stories they weren’t above fighting with each other even if they were family. 

All of them were ruthless. 

“I’ll stay away from him.” You spoke quietly, looking down to the ground. “Just–Don’t hurt him.”

“He is my brother. I will only ever want what’s best for him.” Woozi told you. “Even if I have to be cruel.”

He went to turn around again, only to stop. “Gods don't ask for something without returning. There will come a day when your cooperation will be rewarded.” 

And he left you to your own devices. 

The sun burning on your back made tears pool in your eyes. There would be no escaping the angry sun god. They saw and knew everything–no matter if the moon was high in the sky, Woozi would always know. 

You weren’t able to count how long you had stayed sitting at your table. How many days had passed. How many nights you could feel the moon looking at you through the window. How many times you wish to yourself you were able to see him. 

He didn’t come looking for you. 

You wondered if it was because he had lied or if it was because he was threatened too. It took 7 days before you found yourself believing in something once more. 

You still had yet to leave your home, bustling about in your bed–moving to and fro to the dinning table to stomach some kind of broth because you knew you couldn’t eat anything else. Your weapons had begun to rust in such a small amount of time you wondered if perhaps they had been cursed just as you. 

You sat crossed legs on the floor of your cottage, picking away at the floorboards in a numbing situation when you heard scratching at the front door. You only glanced towards the door the first time, thinking maybe you had just heard it in your head. 

When you heard it again, louder this time, you finally gave it your attention. You hadn’t gotten the chance to get up before a loud banging was heard along with the scratches. You huffed to yourself, getting annoyed with whoever was at the door and was daring to face your mopping mood. 

Just as the next bang was heard, you swung the door open. “What!?” 

You froze in your spot finding no one standing outside your door. Sticking your head out you tried to look around until you felt something on your legs. You flinched and let out a short yell, hand flying to your chest to cradle your scared heart. 

Looking down your breath got caught in your throat at the animal standing before you. 

The puppy had gotten much bigger in the week that you had last seen him. He almost reached your knees at this point and it made your heart clench at how long it had actually been since you last saw Vernon. 

“Orion.” You whispered, slowly crouching down to meet the dog face to face. 

Your hands fell into his ears, brushing them through the soft fur. Your nose began to run–head burning from the tears pooling in your eyes. 

“Orion.” You cried, pulling him in to rub your cheek along his head. 

You found yourself having trouble trying to breathe. An attack was coming on from how all your emotions were finally catching up to you. It had been a long week, and this was just something that you needed to see. 

Maybe you weren’t able to have someone there to calm you down but you did have the one thing between you and Vernon to hold on to. Once you had let go of everything you held onto, you pulled back to hold Orion’s cheeks between your hands. 

“Even if we don’t see each other in this life again,” You looked up into the bright blue sky, the Moon sitting there by itself with no clouds in sight. “I know you’ll always be there.”

~~~~~~~~

“What time is it?” A sleepy Woozi asked, startling awake from his slumber. 

You looked up from your tablet, glancing his way before checking the time. “It’s currently 10.”

“Did I fall asleep?”

You gave Jihoon a deadpanned look, waiting for him to answer his own question. “You’ve been asleep for two hours.”

“Two hours! Why didn’t you say anything!?” He groaned, quickly moving his fingers along the buttons of his soundboard before you stood up.

You quickly shut off the thing after he had turned it back on, knowing that everything he was working on had been saved two hours before. “Because you need the sleep. And I know you weren’t going to take it at the dorm.”

Turning around from him, you began to gather your things, slipping your jacket on. “Let’s get home first. Just until you have to wake up tomorrow.”

“But I have so much time left-”

“And I have a dog to take out.” You retorted. 

Woozi stopped, shoulders dropping as he swiveled his chair around to face you. “You know your job ends at 5. Why are you still here?”

“My job ends when you get home safely.” You told him. “And close your whittle eyes to fall into dreamland.”

“Out of all the bodyguards, I get stuck with you.” Woozi rubbed at his forehead. “Why?”

“I ask the same thing everyday.” You grinned. “I like to think in a past life you did something terrible to warrant someone as annoying as me in your life.”

“How stupid of me.” He whispered to himself. “I’m going.”

You could remember how fresh out of the academy you were when applying to be the bodyguard to some idol. It started off as a background character in the guards who were just there for social distancing. You had been the only one to stay long enough to see so many promotions until finally reaching the personal bodyguard to one of the members of Seventeen. 

The last one you could have possibly wanted for some reason or another just so ended up being the one you had to take care of. You didn’t have any personal issues with Jihoon but there was something that struck your heart every time you looked at him. 

There were times you were scared of doing the wrong thing and having him punish you. In the beginning it was like walking around eggshells, trying to gauge what kind of person he was. But after so long you found him to be charming and caring. He took your words to heart–oftentimes following what you had to say about his health. 

Besides he knew no one else was as well versed in health as you were going to be. 

You overcame that fear at one point. Turning him into one of your closest friends. There was nothing you could ever want to give up the friendships you had with all of the members of Seventeen. 

Woozi’s phone lit up signaling someone was calling. A blush overtook your face and a smile fell onto your lips when you saw the contact photo on the screen. 

“It’s Vernon.” You called over your shoulder, handing the man his phone. 

Woozi pouted his lips, watching you with suspicion. He ultimately had to take the phone and got an earful from not only the American/Korean but also some of the other younger members. His face showed how tired he was but he followed you along to the garage park as his brothers screamed in the background. 

You took the driver's seat allowing the man to rest up in the passenger. Once he finally hit the end call button he let out a deep sigh and rested back against the seat. You gave him a pointed look, but knew he wouldn’t be able to see. 

“Do you like Vernon?”

You almost lost grip on the steering wheel as you sputtered from Woozi’s question. “What?”

“Do you like Vernon?” Woozi asked again, turning to face you. “I’ve noticed for a while now. You’re not you when he’s around. It’s like you look at him with some kind of glow that only happens when someone is in love.”

“You know what love looks like?” You questioned instead. 

He swallowed, thinking about it for a moment. “I think I did.”

There was a red light that had you stopped and looking at him honestly. You sighed, turning around before falling back into the seat. 

“I don’t know what to call it.” You began. “I just feel like there’s something I need to be seeing but can’t.”

You turned to look at him resting against the seat. “Does it bother you?”

He cracked one eye open, looking at you before going back to resting. “Not at all.”

You guys didn’t speak anymore longer until you reached the dorms. You allowed him to get off first before going after him gathering all your things. You lived in the same building as the boys–the other personal bodyguards doing the same. So it was normal to walk with him up to the floor he needed to get to. 

Before you could walk away and to your own destination, Woozi stopped. 

“This isn’t our past lives. This is now.” He told you. “Take the chance this time.”

Woozi frowned, thinking about his words before smiling to himself. He walked away chuckling to himself, giving you a backwards wave before turning a corner out of sight. You grinned, laughing to yourself at his words. 

You seemed to be in a better mood as you walked into your dark apartment, hearing the clicks of nails along the floor. 

“Hey, Arty.” You smiled, crouching down to pet the soft golden fur of your dog. 

It was around the time you met all the boys that you got the dog. He was only a puppy at the time which made things hard to control with a job and a puppy to train but you had a handle on things. It made sense to you–getting a pet at the moment. Especially when you had walked past that pet shop to see him looking at you. 

It felt right. 

“Come on. Let’s go for your walk.”

It wasn’t really ideal to take a dog out for a walk at 11 at night but it wasn’t like you ever went far. The apartment building had its own courtyard which oftentimes allowed him to run freely. It wasn’t for long–only enough to play fetch and then go back to do your business before bed. 

On a normal day you would be getting home around 2 in the morning because Woozi decided to stay in the studio during comeback season. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to but it was the career you wanted. There was something about getting the chance to protect the boys in your own way. It brought a smile to your face to hear their praises for how good you were at your job. An ego boost almost. 

As you threw the ball once more for Arty to fetch, you laughed to yourself at his large body bounding towards the ball. But suddenly there was something that was calling to you. 

Turning to look up at the sky you smiled at the moon shining down at you. Standing right next to it was Orion’s constellation, the one you could easily distinguish since you were a little kid. 

“The constellation next to the moon is Orion.” 

Turning around you gave a smile to the man walking closer to you. 

“Yeah, I think that’s one of the first ever constellations I knew about.” You told Vernon. 

He walked closer to you, standing at your side as the both of you looked up at the sky.

“The story was that Artemis loved Orion because he was a great hunter. But Apollo didn’t like them together so he tricked his sister into killing him.” You retold him somberly. “But she had him turned into stars.”

Vernon hummed, nodding his head along. 

“I don’t think she killed him.” 

You turned to face him, watching as he went on to explain his story. 

“To me the story went that Orion love Artemis so much the day that Apollo told him to stay away he listened because he didn’t want Artemis to be hurt. So he sacrificed their love for her to remain without pain.”

Your lips pulled up into a smile. “I like that story much better.”

Arty came bounding up to your legs, happy to see Vernon. 

“Hey, Arty.” The man giggled, hand moving to pet the dog. 

“Why are you up?” You asked. 

“Moon keeps me awake.” Vernon laughed. “Besides, I like coming out here when you do.”

There was something thumping in your heart. It made your hands sweat but it also made your head full of air that seemed to have you in a high. You could never really explain why you were so attached to Vernon in that kind of matter. But you knew that felt right.It felt right to be with him. 

Like things were finally where they needed to be.

“I do too.”

Permanent Taglist: @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @smilingtokki , @tinyelfperson , @wolfgurl2600-blog , @wannabecoolakid , @misshale21 , @aaniag , @wonuwrites , @asteriadaydreams , @kynessa , @wolfgurl2600

[artsofmetamoor]

More Mythology AU sketches ✨

Mother Earth Cornelia, with her children Jaoral and Akule. The pose is inspired by the statue of Leto with Artemis and Apollo, because the connection is just perfect ❤️

[pennysucks]

Dangerous

[katerinaaqu]

The Iliad Plague

Honestly I am disappointed at how little we talk about the Iliad plague that was sent by Apollo in the first rhapsody of the Iliad to the Greeks after Chryses, Apollo's priest, begged for justice for the disrespect Agamemnon showed him plus the fact that his daughter was not returned to him.

"First he stroke the mules and the swift dogs but then he shot his shafts to the humans themselves and the funeral pyres were burning non-stop and crowded and for nine days the army was being assaulted by the God's arrows"

(Translation by me)

So we basically get that the plague spread to animals first and then swiftly passed to humans and it became deadly very quickly.

It seems like a classic case of an assault of the bacteria Yersina which is responsible for three major plagues; the bubonic, septisemic and pneumonic plagues. All three seem to be associated with transmission from animals to humans. In this case my random guess would be that this would be the case or a pneumonic plague. It transmits from the breathing of fumes and it is much easier transmittable from one person to another given that both other plagues require the mix of bodily fluids. Since the disease seems to strike animals commonly not associated with food like mules or dogs it seems more probable the disease was of a lung nature.

The main symptoms of a pneumonic plague are:

Fever

Headaches

Shortness of breath

Chest pain

Intense coughing

Hemoptysis (aka "coughing out blood")

It seems indeed highly probable that the plague was of such nature which would lead to a large number of soldiers suffer from headaches and fever which gradually got worse and added coughing chest pain and coughing out blood (the other plagues have also intense vomiting-boubonic- and blood infection -septisemic-). Various post-homeric and mainly early Roman sources speak on the contributing of Palamedes suggesting better diet and exercise countering the effects of the plague or preventing it. Although traditionally we know plagues can be effectively cured with the use of antibiotics it is probable that the mention of cardio exercise could be a wink that a good cardio system can defend itself against lung diseases.

Either way it surprises me that the losses of war when studied rarely mention the results of this plague since many people count only the deaths in battle and not this which is ironically the only set of deaths seemingly affecting only the Greek side. It is interesting given how many times cities being surrounded by armies are the first to suffer from diseases rather than the people outside (although both sides suffer eventually from diseases). Realistically speaking we do understand why we see so many mentions of diseases.

And again when it comes to the sequel Odyssey as well, very few people consider not only the losses Odysseus undoubtedly suffered in battle but also one should expect he lost a man or two from the plague as well (mind you I can easily imagine some kings also being affected by it at least at early stage especially the less vigorous such as Nestor because of age or Menelaus if we take my headcannon that he probably was a bit frail of health later as I mentioned to the post tagging @thehelplessmortals which could indeed back up more how careful Helen was with him since plagues do affect massively the health of lungs or heart permanently

More vigorous and fighting fit characters like Achilles or Diomedes or Odysseus and Agamemnon seemed less likely to have been stroke by the plague. Achilles is also the one who calls upon council of kings to find a solution.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

During my collaboration with @artsofmetamoor I always entertain the thought of disease to the various war camps. Disease would often be the most common way soldiers died instead of battles.

In our stories our characters suffer a lot of many things but this also makes me do a note to self to refer more on plagues or diseases

[eru-iru]

it's still wild to me p5 had a crossover with nier rein and now I cant stop thinking of ryomina ending up in the cage after the events of p3 ehehe ryoji would definitely get recorded too even with his brief time living as a human. i mean, clones, dragons and robots got recorded. what's stopping him. even with them being there and makoto being the seal in their own worlds they'll be fine and it wont really affect the seal. ryoji learning more about humanity together with makoto... restoring people's memories and seeing their experiences. and maybe along the way they see their other divergent selves too and their memories, the what if this or that happened... or maybe fixing their own memories too. in the end just like the rein characters, ryoji and makoto's bond becomes stronger than ever before and no matter what happens they'll always be together ;;w;;

[lovelyprincessn64]

SSBU Lady Palatina

This is my second entry for Super Smash Brothers ultimate collab for GameArtist1993

[beomcoups]

What do you guys think of a gardner!Dokyeom x single mom!reader oneshot?

[hannieween]

the soulkeeper’s betrayal — prologue

When Jun realizes that something has gone awry in his kingdom, he has no choice but to ask for help from his estranged wife. Though not without paying a price.

› pairings: wen junhui x female reader › aus: hades jun, king jun, exes to lovers, husband jun › genres: angst, fantasy, fluff, smut (18+) [none in this part] › word count: 661 words

› 🎧: things we lost in the fire – bastille | nfwmb – hozier | end of the affair – ben howard | lover please stay – nothing but thieves | conspiracy – paramore | only – ry x | cosmic love – florence + the machine | caught up – sights & sounds, nicole dollanganger . . . listen on spotify

› this fic is part of the greek gods collab ✧

» read more

no warnings apply in this part

› prologue, the journey

The morning felt stale under a colorless sky, announcing a cold and cloudy day ahead. A soft whooshing sound preceded the breeze that swept through the forest, rustling the leaves of the timber trees.

The leaves had begun to turn a vibrant shade of yellow, the King noticed. As he gazed at the land before him, he felt the urge to bend down and pick up the leaves that had begun to blow around his feet in the wind, creating a soft, crumpled blanket on the ground. 

He paused for a moment, aware that the wind was whispering something from afar. It carried with it the distant, melodic calls of phoebes, their voices echoing through the crisp air of the morning.

Junhui tilted his head forward, allowing the cool breeze to brush and sweep between his eyelashes as he closed his eyes. With a gentle, respectful gesture, he bowed to the wind, feeling its whispers in his brown hair.

The earth would gradually grow barren and lose the sweetness of spring. This was familiar to him; he had witnessed the signs time and time again. Yet this time it carried a significant weight—it meant that you were on your way here, it meant that you were coming home for the very first time since you had met. 

With a deep, steadying breath, he straightened his neck, feeling the anticipation rising within him, he felt an exhilarating rush of energy coursing through him. Slowly, he opened his eyes to the land stretching before him. 

Paradise. Where the sunlight seems almost tangible, it rises but never reaches its zenith. Colorful waves of grass stretch far and wide, dotted with small mounds of tiny white flowers, inviting anyone to rest their head on them.

This place was beautiful. At least this side of his kingdom was tranquil and robust with color. The birds choose to seek shelter and sleep here. It is where the souls who were granted peace would grow quiet and witness the king of the lands spend his mornings.

The place reminded him of a long-lost childhood. The music from the phoebes, the cold but gentle breeze. He wanted to run, he wanted to become one with the wind and not feel anything at all.

But alas, the dread came.

“What are you doing here, Clotho?” he asked, his voice was low and raspy from not speaking to anyone in what felt like months.

“It is time. Must follow tradition,” she said with a gentle tone, but Junhui knew better. He knew she was pressing on the importance of your arrival there. One of the Fates, only doing her work, but vague as to how to be tactful. 

“I am aware of that. Thank you,” he replied, turning to face her, turning his back on the land.

Her pale face looked stricken with worry and embarrassment as she lowered her eyes to the ground. “Forgive me.”

Jun raised his gaze to the silvery sky, trying not to roll his eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said coldly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Clotho frowned. Those around him saw his apathy, and they took it as a sign that he was grieving his break-up with you. They were right; his heart was heavy with sorrow, even if he refused to show it. Beneath the surface, a storm of grief raged within him, slowly consuming him, even if he wore a mask of calm.

You came into his life in the most devastating way imaginable. Like a merciless wave, washing away everything that preceded you, leaving only you. Your arrival was not only abrupt, but it was like a shock that altered the course of his existence, forcing him to deal with the remains of the things you made him feel.

But then he lost you, all because of a lie. Now, as autumn slowly awakened, you were coming to him; it was time to make amends.

Only if you let him.

› author's note: heeeey (❁´◡`❁)

this is the prologue to a one shot i have planned to release on november 16th!

this is kind of a challenge for me because i never write detailed descriptions of places. i hope you like this one-shot. hehe

toodles!

support me on ko-fi? 🥹🩵

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: The Prophet and His Muse Pairing: greek god!woozi x reincarnated lover!fem!reader Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut, romance, fantasy, soulmate au, reincarnation au, deity au Wordcount: 11k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: In a world where ancient myths whisper through the fabric of modern life, a poignant tale of love and redemption unfolds. A god reunited with his eternal love. As this ancient bond stirs to life, he must navigate the delicate interplay between myth and reality—striving to rekindle a romance that defies time and embraces destiny’s call.

Warnings: angst, character death, reincarnation, fluffy smut, slight exhibitionism, reader is afab, mentions of food, mentions of wanting kids

A/N: so happy to finally post this fic for @beomcoups's and @wooahaeproductions' collab - see the Thirteen Gods of Olympus masterlist here!

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Join my taglist // Masterlists

Prologue: Golden Shadows

You sit on the edge of the bed, the cool linens draped around your naked frame, watching as Apollo’s fingers dance delicately over the strings of his golden lyre. The soft, melodic notes fill the room, mingling with the last rays of the setting sun that bathe everything in a warm, golden glow. The heat from the day still clings to the air, wrapping the room in an intimate cocoon.

Rising slowly, you let the linens slide around you like a silken robe as you step toward him. Your voice, barely above a whisper, drifts through the melody. "Won’t you come back to bed?"

Apollo’s eyes meet yours, a tender smile playing on his lips. Some of his golden locks fall over his forehead, and you reach out to brush them back with your fingers. Your hand lingers on his cheek, and Apollo leans into your touch. He sets the lyre aside, the music hanging in the air like a fragrant memory. Rising gracefully, he takes your hand and places it on his bare chest. You let your hand travel up his warm skin before wrapping your arms around his neck. His forehead rests against yours, and he closes his eyes as if to savor the moment.

"Please?" you repeat softly. "I don’t get much time with you."

Without a word, Apollo scoops you into his arms, lifting you as though you weigh nothing. You feel the strength and warmth of his embrace, your heart quickening in response. He carries you to the bed, laying you down with a reverence that speaks of a love transcending time. Apollo settles beside you, easing past the linens covering your figure to press his bare skin against yours.

You move together in perfect harmony, your love a silent conversation. The golden light of the sunset wraps around you, turning your world into a haven of softness and desire. As the sun dips below the horizon, you are lost in each other, your bodies entwined, your souls connecting.

"You're enchanting, my flower," he whispers, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck. "In your presence, the loveliest hymns dance through my mind."

He leans over you, his gaze deep and unwavering as he looks into your eyes. With one hand, he reaches out to touch your cheek, his warm palm caressing your soft skin with a silken touch. "I don’t mean to take my attention off of you."

"I suppose I can allow it," you answer playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. "Only if you promise to stay with me now and until morning."

Instead of answering, he draws closer, his breath mingling with yours. His lips meet yours in a kiss that begins gently, a tender brush that sends shivers down your spine. As the kiss deepens, his other hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. His kiss grows more passionate, his lips moving with a soft urgency, tasting and exploring. Your hearts beat in unison, each throb echoing the intensity of the moment. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a timeless embrace, lost in the rapture of a kiss that promises forever.

"I am consumed by you, my love," he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, trying to catch his breath. His eyes, dark with desire, bore into yours, searching for the same fire he feels burning within himself.

You cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "And I by you," you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion. "Every moment with you feels like a beautiful dream I never want to wake from."

He smiles, a soft, tender smile that makes your heart flutter. "Then let’s never wake," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let’s stay in this dream, where time stands still and nothing else matters but us."

You nod, pulling him closer once more. As your lips meet again, the world outside ceases to exist. The night wraps around you like a velvet cloak, and in that moment, all that matters is the love you share, burning brightly in the dark.

When at last you lie spent, the stars begin to twinkle like diamonds in the velvet night sky. Apollo brushes a tender kiss against your forehead. "I promise to stay with you until morning," he murmurs, his voice a soothing lullaby that melts into the silence of the night.

You nestle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, your heart brimming with contentment and love. His scent envelops you, a blend of earth and spice, grounding you in the moment. The world outside ceases to exist. It is just the two of you, cocooned in a timeless embrace, held together by a love as eternal and unchanging as the stars above.

His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Every touch, every whispered word, binds you closer. The night air is cool against your heated skin, a contrast that heightens your senses, making you acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat.

You look up at him, his eyes reflecting the starlight, filled with a promise that transcends words. He smiles, and it feels like the universe unfolding just for you. The night cradles you both gently, a sanctuary where time stands still, and you drift into dreams knowing you are cherished beyond measure.

Chapter 1: Echoes of a Memory

Jihoon stirs awake, the rain’s steady tap against the windowpane weaves a mournful lullaby. The room, bathed in the somber gray of the overcast morning, is cloaked in a cold, desolate light that seeps through the curtains, transforming every corner into a silent witness to his solitude. The apartment stands bare, a ghostly echo of the warmth and vibrancy that once defined his life.

“Y/N?” he whispers, his voice hoarse with dreams and yearning. The answer is a void, an echo of silence that wraps around him like a shroud. His hand reaches out to the empty space beside him, feeling the familiar sting of her absence.

With a weary sigh, Jihoon pushes himself up and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. As he unlocks it, a new email notification blinks at him, its presence a tiny spark in the dimness. He opens it, his heart pounding in time with the rain’s steady rhythm:

“Dear Mr. Lee,

Thank you for your generous donation. We would be honored to invite you to visit our institute at your earliest convenience. We are eager to discuss future collaborations...”

He doesn't bother to read the rest. A faint smile touches Jihoon’s lips, a fragile glimmer in his otherwise monochrome world. The prospect of seeing Y/N again breathes a tentative hope into his chest, a whisper of joy amidst the pervasive gloom. He can almost hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your presence.

He sets the phone down, the smile lingering like a delicate shadow, and moves toward the window. Pulling the curtains aside, he gazes out at the relentless rain, its steady fall a poignant reminder of the emptiness he endures. Yet now, amidst the gray, there is a flicker of something more—an ember of hope that dares to illuminate the path ahead.

He will visit the music institute. He will see her again. And in that fragile hope, there lies the possibility that she may indeed be you.

Jihoon walks through the entrance of the local university’s music institute, the air buzzing with a mix of creativity and academia. He’s even gone so far as to dress up for the occasion—skipping his usual black ensemble of oversized shirts, shorts, and slippers, for a more sophisticated button-down and trousers. Students hurry past with instruments and sheet music, their conversations a background symphony of youthful energy. Some of them give him a double look, whispering amongst themselves. He can feel their music, rhythmically beating as they go about their day. For a moment, he lets go of the barrier he builds up between himself and others, allowing the melodies of their futures to play through his mind. He’s completely entranced by the feeling that he doesn’t see the person walking towards him. An administrator, a middle-aged woman with an eager smile, greets him warmly.

“Woozi—Mr. Lee, it’s such an honor to have you here,” she says, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “I’ve been a fan of your music for years, we’re so excited to have you. Let me show you around.”

As they walk through the hallways, she points out various rooms—practice spaces, classrooms, and performance halls. Jihoon listens politely, nodding and occasionally asking questions, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He’s eager to see Y/N, the professor he’s heard so much about.

Finally, they reach a spacious room with large windows that let in the afternoon light. Instruments of all kinds line the walls, and students sit in clusters, discussing music theory and composition. Y/N stands by one of the groups, her presence commanding yet kind. The administrator walks over to her, tapping her on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Professor, this is Mr. Lee,” the administrator introduces him with pride.

Y/N turns, and Jihoon feels his breath catch. She looks so just like you—the same grace, the same spark in her eyes. She extends her hand, a warm smile on her lips.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Lee,” she says. “Your support means a lot to us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Jihoon replies, shaking her hand. He can’t help but stare, his mind awash with memories.

The administrator, sensing the moment, excuses herself. “I’ll leave you two to talk. If you need anything, I’ll be just outside.”

As the door closed behind her, Jihoon chuckled, breaking the ice. “I think she was about to ask for an autograph.”

Y/N laughs a melodic sound that sends a jolt of nostalgia through him. “She probably was. You have quite a fan base here.”

Jihoon smiles, feeling a warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time. “It’s nice to know my music is appreciated. But enough about me—I want to hear about your work here.”

They talk for a while, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Jihoon finds himself captivated by her passion for teaching and her genuine love for music. As they speak, he feels a connection, a sense of familiarity that goes beyond the present moment.

For the first time in decades, Jihoon feels a spark of hope. Perhaps, he’s actually found you again.

Chapter 2: Symphony of the Sun

The garden basks in the golden glow of a summer afternoon, where sunlight spills like liquid amber through the canopy of a grand orange tree. The air, rich with the heady perfume of blooming flowers and sun-warmed citrus, drapes around you like a fragrant embrace.

You and Apollo lounge beneath the tree’s sprawling boughs, its ancient branches casting a protective, dappled shade. The leaves murmur softly in the breeze, their whispers blending with the distant songs of nature, creating a lullaby of tranquility.

Apollo’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint as he plucks a plump, sun-kissed orange from a low-hanging branch. He cradles it in his hands, studying its ripe, glossy skin with an almost reverent gaze.

A smile curves on your lips as Apollo’s thumb presses into the fruit; the sharp, tangy aroma of citrus bursts forth, mingling with the garden’s sweet floral symphony. With a flick of his wrist, he begins to peel the orange, and in an unexpected burst of citrus, a stream of golden juice arcs through the air, landing with a soft splash upon your cheek.

You gasp in surprise, your eyes widening before laughter spills from your lips, bright and unrestrained. “Look at what you’ve done!” you exclaim, your voice a melody of delight.

Apollo’s grin widens, his laughter melding with yours in a harmonious duet. “Let me help you,” he offers, leaning in with tender intent. His lips graze your cheek, his tongue softly tracing the path of the sweet juice.

Your laughter subsides into a gentle smile, your heart swelling with a profound, loving warmth. “You always know how to make me laugh,” you murmur, your voice a tender whisper that lingers in the golden light.

Apollo’s gaze holds a deep, unwavering tenderness as he pulls back slightly, his fingers still glistening with remnants of orange juice. “And you always know how to make me happy,” he responds, his eyes reflecting a love that seems to glow from within.

As you share the orange, Apollo feeds you each succulent piece with a playful grace, your laughter spilling freely as more juice dribbles down your chins. The simple joy of the moment, wrapped in the warmth of your shared affection, lifts your hearts in a dance of delight.

With the afternoon sun casting intricate patterns of light through the tree’s leaves, you and Apollo savor the serene beauty of the moment. It becomes a cherished fragment of time, a golden memory to treasure long after the orange trees have shed their fruit and summer’s warmth has faded. In the garden’s tranquil embrace, surrounded by nature’s gentle symphony, you are two souls entwined in a love that feels as eternal as the sun-dappled day itself.

The room is cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from Jihoon’s computer screen. Rain patters against the windows, a somber symphony that matches the turmoil in his heart. Will it ever stop raining? Jihoon sits hunched over his desk, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to contain the overwhelming grief.

Memories of his lover’s death flash through his mind—your final moments, the helplessness he felt, the crushing sense of loss that had never truly left him. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears keep coming, blurring his vision and deepening his despair.

His phone buzzes on the desk, breaking through the haze of his sorrow. It’s a message from his manager, yet another demand for new material for his upcoming album. Jihoon stares at the screen, his frustration bubbling up. He didn’t have the energy to argue, and the constant pressure was becoming unbearable.

With a heavy heart, he types a reply, his fingers trembling. “Fine. I’ll start working on it,” he writes, feeling a hollow resignation as he hits send. Agreeing to his manager’s demands feels like a betrayal of his own emotions, but he has no choice.

He looks out over his apartment. The room still feels cold despite the progress he’s made in unpacking. Boxes now lay open, their contents partially arranged around the room, but there’s an air of impatience and frustration hanging over him.

He looks back at his laptop, a video paused on the screen. It was of Y/N, gracefully playing the harp. It’s the video that got him interested in the university he donated to in the first place. He presses play, and the delicate notes fill the room—transporting him back to a time long ago when he had taught you to play the lyre. The memories are vivid; from the way your fingers would fumble at first, to when you finally found your confidence as you mastered each chord.

Sighing, Jihoon runs a hand through his hair. The thought of his manager’s text appears in his mind again. He only has one song left on the album, but every time he sits down to write his mind goes blank. The writer’s block is suffocating, a relentless weight that grows heavier with each passing day.

The video ends and Jihoon presses replay, watching Y/N’s fingers glide over the strings—her expression serene and focused. A pang of longing shot through him. She’s so different, yet so familiar. He needs to see her, to talk to her—about anything that could reignite his creativity.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Jihoon opens his email and begins to type.

“Dear Professor Y/L/N,

I hope this message finds you well. I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation and the inspiration I felt afterward. Your music and your passion have stayed with me.

I’m struggling with my next album and could use your guidance. Would you be available to meet sometime soon? I believe that discussing music with you might help me find my way again.

Looking forward to your response.

Best regards, Lee Jihoon”

He pauses, his fingers hovering over the send button. The room seems to hold it, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. Finally, with a deep sigh, he sends the email, a flicker of hope piercing through the darkness.

Jihoon leans back in his chair, the tears slowly subsiding. He glances around the room, the shadows no longer seeming as oppressive. As the rain continues to fall outside, Jihoon allows himself a moment of quiet reflection. He knows the journey ahead will be difficult, but for the first time in a long while, he feels a glimmer of possibility, a hint of light in the darkness.

The forest surrounding you is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Apollo sits with you on a blanket spread across the grass, the tranquil waters of the lake reflecting the serene beauty of the moment.

Apollo hands you his golden lyre, his fingers brushing against yours as he does so. “Now, remember what I showed you,” he says, his voice soft and encouraging.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tentatively plucking at the strings. A few hesitant notes fill the air, mingling with the encouraging sounds of nature. Apollo watches you intently, his eyes filled with admiration and love

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

With each note, your confidence grew. You glance up at Apollo, a smile tugging at your lips. His praise and gentle guidance make you feel invincible. You begin to play a simple, the notes flowing more smoothly with each attempt.

Apollo leans closer, his arms enveloping you, his presence warm and comforting. “Let’s try something together,” he suggests.

His hands cradle the lyre with yours, its unfamiliar weight making the notes stumble and falter, sparking a cascade of laughter between you. Yet Apollo persists, his fingers weaving a delicate tapestry of sound across the strings. You watch, mesmerized by his effortless grace, his skill transforming each note into a tender caress.

As the music entwines, it swirls around you like a gentle embrace, filling the clearing with a melodious harmony that dances with the rustling leaves and whispering breeze. Apollo leans his chin softly on your shoulder, his presence both grounding and soothing. Your fingers waver, losing their surety beneath the weight of his affection. You surrender to the warmth of his chest, letting the lyre fall to your lap as you lean into him, lost in the serenity of the moment.

Taking over, Apollo plays with a subtle, soulful passion, each note a testament to his mastery. The music flows like liquid gold, filling the space with its beauty. After a while, he returns the lyre to you, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that sends a shiver down your spine.

You finish the final notes, the melody soft and lingering, while Apollo’s lips trail gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. Each kiss is a whisper of affection, a silent promise woven into the tender music of the evening.

As the final notes fade, Apollo smiles at you, his eyes shining with pride. “You’re incredible,” he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You blush, your heart swelling with affection. “I had a good teacher,” you reply, your tone flirtatious.

You turn your head to meet his gaze, and Apollo moves with an elegant grace, his forehead resting softly against yours. The world around you seems to still, the air thick with the tender intimacy of the moment. He pulls back just a breath, his touch delicate as he raises one hand to your face, his fingertips brushing your skin with the gentlest of caresses.

With a loving precision, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather, tracing the curve of your cheek. His eyes, deep and expressive, linger on your lips with a tender reverence.

“I could stay here forever with you,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, melodious whisper that seems to drift on the evening breeze, carrying with it the promise of eternity.

Before you can respond, a distant voice calls out your name. You sigh, your expression reluctantly turning serious. “I have to go,” you say, getting out of his embrace and standing up before handing the lyre back to your lover.

He takes it, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer. “Will you come back to me soon?” he asks, his voice tinged with longing.

You nod, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I promise,” you whisper.

As you turn to leave, Apollo’s gaze follows you with a mixture of longing and bittersweet affection. His heart, though full of love, aches with an almost palpable desire to draw you nearer, to keep you forever within his reach. He remains rooted in the clearing, a solitary figure bathed in the soft, fading light of dusk. A lovesick smile plays on his lips, his eyes still glowing with the warmth of the moments shared. The echoes of your music and the lingering touch of your hand haunt him like a sweet, entrancing dream, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

The twilight deepens, casting long shadows that mingle with the growing night, while you drift into your dreams, wrapped in the comfort of your shared affection. Unbeknownst to you, as the two of you are enveloped in the sanctuary of your loving reveries, vengeful eyes peer from the darkness, their gaze cold and unyielding. The unseen observer watches with a quiet malice, their presence a dark contrast to the serene bliss you and Apollo cherish.

Chapter 3: Warmth of the Sun

You rouse from an unexpected nap, your senses gradually reconnecting with the ambient sounds of your modest office at the institute. The hum of the air conditioner, the distant murmur of conversation, and the rhythmic clacking of keyboards slowly pull you back to consciousness. Blinking away the remnants of sleep and smoothing your disheveled hair, you instinctively reach for your phone. An email notification from the singer who had recently graced the university’s halls catches your eye.

Curiosity piqued and cheeks tinged with a hint of fluster, you gather your composure and walk over to a colleague’s desk. Amidst the soft glow of computer screens and the rustling of papers, you share the intriguing news of Jihoon’s email. Your voice carries a blend of excitement and uncertainty, betraying the flutter of emotions you feel.

“Lee Jihoon wants to meet and discuss music,” you announce, your words spilling out as you pass your phone to your colleague. The screen displays Jihoon’s message, succinct yet promising.

Your colleague reads through the email with a raised eyebrow, a look of mild surprise crossing their face. They nod slowly, their expression a mix of interest and amusement. “He’s quite the character, isn’t he?” they comment, their tone tinged with playful intrigue.

You nod in agreement, a complex swirl of emotions stirring within you. “Yes, he certainly is…”

“I think you should take him up on his offer,” your colleague suggests, their eyes alight with encouragement. “It’s a unique opportunity, might be a good for networking.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow their words to settle. The sterile office space seems to momentarily dissolve, replaced by fleeting memories of citrus scents and the warmth of a special touch. The thought evokes a gentle sense of nostalgia and anticipation.

“You’re right,” you reply softly, a newfound resolve firming within you.

With that, you return to your desk, the soft, curious energy of the moment lingering in the air. As you compose your response to Jihoon’s email, the anticipation of what lies ahead envelops you, and the office around you seems to hum with a newfound promise.

After noticing the late hour, you gather your things and make your way out of the institute. The city outside is bathed in the soft, golden hues of early evening, the setting sun casting long shadows across the streets. You move through the bustling crowd with a quiet sense of anticipation, your mind still buzzing with the implications of Jihoon’s email.

Arriving home, you slip into the comforting sanctuary of your apartment. The familiar sounds of the city fade into the background, replaced by the serene quiet of your personal space. You let out a sigh of relief, the day’s stress slowly unwinding as you step into your cozy, dimly lit living room.

You prepare for bed after a quick dinner. The rhythmic ritual of winding down feels both calming and reassuring. You brush your teeth and change into comfortable pajamas, the softness of the fabric a soothing contrast to the day's formal attire. The scent of citrus from the diffuser fills the air.

In the solitude of your bedroom, you settle into your bed, the cool sheets embracing you as you pull them up to your chin. Your laptop is set aside on the nightstand, Jihoon’s email now a tangible part of your thoughts. The gentle hum of a distant city sounds outside your window is a comforting backdrop as you lie back and allow your mind to wander.

As you turn off the bedside lamp, the room darkens to a soothing twilight, the soft glow of streetlights casting faint patterns on the walls. You close your eyes, and Jihoon’s message drifts to the forefront of your thoughts. His words replay in your mind, each one imbued with the promise of new possibilities and the allure of an encounter yet to come.

You find yourself imagining the meeting, the possibilities of what might unfold. The prospect of discussing music with him, hearing his thoughts and ideas, fills you with a quiet excitement. The tenderness of his email and the enigmatic charm he exudes blend into a wistful reverie.

As you drift closer to sleep, your thoughts are a tapestry of anticipation and curiosity. Jihoon’s face, his smile, and the gentle tone of his voice become part of your dreams. The promise of a future conversation wraps around you like a soft, comforting blanket, and soon, you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, the echoes of Jihoon’s words weaving through your dreams.

You find yourself in a lavish bedroom adorned with silk drapes and flickering oil lamps. You stand by an open window, the moon casting a silvery glow over the room. As you gaze out, a figure materializes before you: Jihoon?– no, this is someone different… you can feel it. The man stands tall and radiant. You feel a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing with a mixture of awe and desire.

“Apollo,” you whisper instinctively, your voice filled with longing and recognition. The man who looks like Jihoon meets your gaze with a tender smile, his eyes reflecting centuries of longing and a love that transcends time. Slowly, he steps closer, his presence enveloping you in warmth and familiarity. His fingers brush against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. The world around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you bathed in the moonlight.

As you stand inches apart, the intensity of the moment is palpable. Jihoon’s hand gently caresses your face, and you close your eyes, savoring the touch that feels both new and ancient. The air is thick with unspoken emotions and the promise of something profound.

You awaken suddenly, back in your bedroom. The soft glow of your bedside lamp illuminates the familiar surroundings: a cluttered desk, shelves lined with books, and a faint scent of something ambrosial in the air. Your heart still races from the vivid dream. Had that really been Jihoon? Why were you suddenly dreaming of gods? A mix of confusion and fascination floods your senses. Your cheeks are burning as you realize that you’re going to have to face the man you had such an intimate dream about in just a couple of days.

In the dimly lit ambiance of his studio, Jihoon sits at his desk, the soft glow of his computer screen casting a gentle light on his face. The room is filled with the subtle scent of coffee and the distant hum of city life outside his window. After hours of trying to work, he unlocks his phone to see if he has any messages. His heart skips a beat as he sees Y/N’s email reply, her words filled with warmth and a hint of excitement.

Feeling a surge of hope and renewed affection, Jihoon leans back in his chair, a smile spreading across his features. He reads her message again, savoring each word as if discovering a precious treasure. Her playful tone and genuine interest radiate through the screen, reigniting memories of past conversations and shared moments.

The anticipation of their upcoming meeting fills him with nervous energy. He envisions your face, the sound of your laughter, and the warmth of your presence—even if she’s not you, he lets himself dream. 

With a decisive nod, Jihoon sets his plans in motion. His fingers tap eagerly on the keyboard as he arranges the details, asking her to meet him at a café near campus. The late-night hours pass swiftly as he imagines your reunion. Jihoon’s heart is light, filled with hope and a renewed sense of purpose. He glances at the clock, noting the late hour, but sleep is the last thing on his mind. Instead, he finds himself dreaming of you and the endless possibilities that lie ahead.

As the first light of dawn filters through the window, Jihoon leans back once more, satisfied with his preparations. He knows that this meeting could be the start of something beautiful, a new chapter in your shared story. With a final glance at your email, he shuts down his computer, his heart full and ready for what the future holds—as well as nostalgic over your past.

You stand by the edge of the forest that lines your family home, dappled sunlight filters through the dense canopy, casting a mystical glow over the tranquil surroundings. Amidst the rustling leaves, you try to have a moment of peace and quiet when, suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows – a man of elegant stature, adorned in a toga of shimmering gold. Your eyes meet, sparks of tension crackling between you.

The beautiful man, undeterred by your irritation, was captivated by your fiery spirit. With a graceful bow and a voice imbued with sincerity, he offered a heartfelt apology. "Forgive my intrusion. I am Apollo, the god of light and music. I was drawn here by your spirit."

“You have no right to intrude,” you snap, though your gaze lingers on his ethereal presence.

Apollo stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I mean you no harm,” he said softly. “I sensed a soul as spirited as the forest itself, and I couldn't resist meeting its bearer.”

In a display of his divine prowess, Apollo performs a magical trick, a burst of light appearing at the movement of his hands. Your eyes widen, taken aback yet intrigued by his powers. The anger in your heart begins to wane, replaced by a budding fascination. You allow him into your peace and he sits down by your side, entranced by your being.

As you find yourself immersed in the tranquil embrace of nature, the world around you becomes a canvas of serenity and whispered secrets. The rustling leaves and soft murmur of the brook create a symphony that echoes the gentle pulse of the earth. Here, in this sacred haven, the boundaries between the divine and the mortal blur, and you are granted a glimpse beyond the celestial façade.

In this fleeting interlude of enchantment, you encounter the man behind the god—his essence revealed not through grand titles or divine spectacles, but through the subtle, intimate moments shared amidst the dappled sunlight and shadowy groves. His presence, though touched by the ethereal, is grounded in the warmth of human connection. You see the depth of his humanity, the tenderness of his gaze, and the sincerity of his touch, all wrapped in the natural splendor that surrounds you.

The forest whispers its age-old secrets, and the air hums with the quiet magic of your meeting. Each shared glance and gentle touch weaves a story of intertwined fates, a dance choreographed by the hands of destiny itself. The connection that binds you grows, a delicate thread spun from the loom of the cosmos, shimmering with the hues of eternity and intimacy.

As you move together through this enchanted realm, the dance of myth and reality intertwines with every step. The cosmic rhythm of your bond echoes through the forest, resonating with the ageless harmonies of the universe. In this timeless moment, where myth meets mortal, your destinies converge, forming a union that is as profound as it is ephemeral. The magic of the cosmos swirls around you, a testament to a connection that transcends the ordinary, forged in the crucible of both celestial wonder and human warmth.

“You have stirred something within me,” Apollo confessed, his voice carrying the weight of millennia. “A mortal spirit so fierce and yet so tender.”

Apollo’s presence radiates a soft, celestial glow as he extends his hand toward you, bestowing a healing light that shimmers like liquid moonlight. The warm radiance wraps around you like a tender embrace, a soothing balm for the soul. As the light envelops you, the weight of your burdens begins to dissolve, replaced by a profound sense of tranquility. The aches that have haunted you ebb away, leaving in their place a serene peace that seems to harmonize with the very fabric of your being.

The bond between you feels tangible, a connection woven from threads of fate and the ageless dance of the cosmos. The celestial and the mortal intertwine in a delicate symphony, echoing the timeless rhythms of the universe.

With a soft, grateful smile, you turn to him. “Apollo, would you visit me tonight? I want to see you again.”

Apollo’s eyes sparkle with an ethereal light, his smile warm and reassuring. “I would be delighted,” he replies, his voice like a caress of the evening breeze. “You shall have my promise.”

As night falls and the sky is draped in a velvet cloak of darkness, Apollo keeps his word. The moon casts its silvery glow upon the world, and he climbs with effortless grace, his figure blending seamlessly with the shadows and moonlight. The air is fragrant with the scent of wildflowers, a heady perfume that mingles with the gentle rustling of leaves.

You stand on your balcony, where the cool night air wraps around you like a gentle caress, the crispness of the evening a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day. You clutch your thin robe closer, its delicate fabric barely shielding you from the night’s chill. The stillness of the night seems to hold its breath in anticipation, and your heartbeat quickens, a soft flutter of excitement resonating through the serene darkness.

Leaning over the edge, you peer into the velvety abyss below, and your breath hitches in your throat as you catch sight of Apollo’s face, aglow with an otherworldly radiance. His divine presence bathes him in a soft, silvery light that dances with the shadows, making his features appear both ethereal and incredibly close.

“You came,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of relief and elation, as you extend your hand toward him.

Apollo’s smile is both tender and mischievous as he reaches up to take your hand. “I couldn’t stay away,” he confesses, his voice a melodious murmur that seems to blend seamlessly with the night air.

As he steps onto the balcony and joins you, the world around you transforms into a cocoon of intimacy. You both retreat into the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom, where the soft glow of oil lamps casts a warm, flickering light that dances across the room's serene decor. The gentle illumination bathes everything in a golden hue, creating an atmosphere of both tranquility and expectation.

You and Apollo sit close together, the little space between you filled with anticipation. The air seems charged with an unspoken connection, and every glance, every movement, feels laden with meaning. Apollo’s eyes, reflecting the soft light, hold a gaze of deep, attentive interest as he listens to your heartfelt conversation.

Noticing the slight shiver that has taken hold of you, Apollo shifts a little closer, his warmth a soothing balm against the chill. Sensing his unspoken invitation, you lean into him, resting your head on his chest. The rhythmic, steady beat of his heart beneath your ear brings a comforting sense of closeness, and the world outside fades away, leaving only the intimate cocoon of your shared space and the gentle glow of the oil lamps.

As the night deepens, your connection deepens too, drawing you closer until your breaths mingle in the quiet intimacy of the moment. You look up at him and he holds your face in his hands, carefully looking over each and every one of your features. Apollo leans in, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, a gesture filled with reverence and longing. Your heart races in response, feeling the undeniable pull of your shared destiny.

Yet, sensing your hesitation and the weight of your burgeoning emotions, Apollo pulls back slightly, his touch lingering on your cheek. He gazes into your eyes with a mixture of desire and restraint, wanting to savor this romance and to truly know you before taking things further.

With a soft smile, Apollo rises from where you sit, a promise of return lingering in his parting words. “Until we meet again,” he whispers, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet night. You watch him go, the echo of his presence lingering in the room, leaving your heart and mind swirling with the complexities of newfound love and the mysteries of your intertwined fates.

As you lie back on your bed, the soft rustle of silk drapes and the flickering light of the oil lamps create a cocoon of warmth around you. The memory of Apollo's kiss and the tender look in his eyes replay in your mind, a delicate thread weaving through the tapestry of your thoughts. The night is filled with dreams of what might come, the promise of love and destiny guiding your heart.

Only a few days pass before you find yourself once more in his presence. As the first tender rays of dawn gently infiltrate your bedroom through the ornate windows, the room transforms into a sanctuary bathed in a soft, golden light. The early morning sun, with its delicate hues, filters through the intricately carved glass, casting a warm, ethereal glow that dances across the room.

The air is hushed and serene, carrying with it a faint but enchanting blend of incense and wildflowers. The subtle aroma weaves through the space, infusing the atmosphere with a calming, fragrant embrace that speaks of both tranquility and the natural world’s quiet beauty.

The bed, a luxurious cocoon draped in rich, sumptuous fabrics, stands as a testament to both elegance and comfort. The linens, adorned with intricate patterns and plush textures, create a space of exquisite softness. Here, amidst the opulence of the bedding, you and Apollo lie entwined. Your bodies are wrapped in a tender embrace, the warmth of his presence melding seamlessly with the softness of the fabrics. The gentle interplay of light and shadow enhances the intimate atmosphere, casting a dreamlike glow over the serene tableau of your shared sanctuary.

Apollo, the radiant deity of the sun, and you, a cherished mortal, are entwined in a tender embrace. In this moment of exquisite intimacy, your bodies rest together, warmed by the residual glow of passion's heat. Apollo’s golden hair shimmers like strands of sunlight caught in the dawn’s gentle embrace, its divine brilliance casting a striking contrast against the earthly warmth of your skin.

The room hums softly with an energy that feels almost palpable—a vibrant, living current born of your intertwined love and boundless desire. This love, a bridge between mortal and divine realms, pulses with a timeless rhythm, transcending the limits of both worlds. In the soft morning light, where shadows play and whispers linger, the boundary between the celestial and the earthly fades, leaving only the pure essence of your shared connection.

In this sacred moment, the world outside fades into insignificance. Your surroundings, once grand and imposing, now serve merely as a backdrop to the profound intimacy you share. Apollo’s touch upon your skin is gentle yet electric, sending shivers down your spine as if each caress were a promise written in the language of the gods.

The silence of the morning is punctuated by whispers—whispers of affection, of longing fulfilled, and of promises exchanged between two souls. Your voices, soft and reverent, carry the weight of countless whispered vows made in the stillness of countless dawns before this one.

Apollo gazes upon you with eyes that hold not just admiration, but reverence. In you, Apollo finds a reflection of the mortal world’s beauty and vulnerability—a beauty that enchants even the sun god himself, and vulnerability that draws forth his protective instincts.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, casting a warm glow across the room, your embrace deepens. You explore the depths of your connection with newfound intensity, each movement a testament to the passion and longing that has bound you together since your first meeting under the auspices of fate. He knows that you don’t have long before your servants come to greet you good morning and get you to start your day. However, he can’t bring himself to leave—not when he still hungers for you. Apollo kisses you again, bringing his lips down your jaw, to your neck, and to your bare chest.

“Again?” you ask with a chuckle. “You’ve barely let me recover.”

He gazes up at you with eyes brimming with longing, and a soft, affectionate coo escapes your lips as your fingers glide gently through his hair. In this tender moment, it feels almost impossible to believe that the man before you is a god. He appears so vulnerable, so exquisitely delicate in your embrace.

Apollo’s lips brush against the tender curve of your chest, planting a kiss in the hollow between your breasts with a reverence that speaks of deep adoration. Slowly, he moves over you, his body fluid and graceful, until he has enclosed you within the gentle fortress of his arms. His presence above you, warm and enveloping, creates a cocoon of intimacy where the world outside fades away, leaving only the delicate, shared space of your love.

“I have to go soon,” he says, “but not yet.”

“Do I really entice you this much?” you murmur and study the way his hair shimmers when you pull your fingers through it.

“Very much,” he admits and presses another kiss on your lips. “I want to devote my love to you. Will you grant me that wish?”

You nod, and his lips are immediately back on yours. Your love, ignited by the primal force of desire and nurtured by a deep understanding of each other’s essence, blooms like the lotus flower at the dawn of creation. Each touch is a prayer whispered into the fabric of time, each kiss a vow written in the stars. One of his hands lifts up your thigh, as the other aligns himself with your core. You gasp at the feeling of him entering you again, but his lips drown out the sound.

Your hands find his shoulders, your nails gently clawing at his skin. Apollo’s hands wander over your skin, his fingers leaving a warm and tingling sensation. The bed beneath you seems to dissolve into nothingness, replaced by the ethereal softness of clouds as he thrusts into you. You float in a realm where the ordinary world no longer holds sway, cradled in a dreamlike embrace. Apollo’s lips gently withdraw from yours, leaving a lingering warmth, as his hand rises to cup your cheek with a tenderness that feels both celestial and intimate.

Outside your reverie, a knock echoes softly on the door, accompanied by a distant, unfamiliar voice calling your name. Yet, within this cocoon of otherworldly bliss, Apollo remains unfazed. His movements continue with a fluid grace, undisturbed by the intrusion, as he draws you deeper into a realm where only the two of you exist—a realm woven from the delicate threads of shared desire and boundless affection.

“I just… adore you,” he murmurs, his eyes hazy with lust.

“I’m close,” you whisper.

Apollo’s head falls to the crook of your neck with a groan, and your fingers immediately tangle in his hair. There’s another knock on your door.

“Just a moment!” You stumble over your words, trying to hold back the noises that are pushing themselves up your throat.

Apollo’s hips stutter as you clench around him, the excitement of the moment becoming too much for you. A moan bubbles up your throat. Apollo moves to lean over you again, putting two of his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. With your eyes, you tell him that you’re just about ready to explode. He nods, replacing his fingers with his lips as he cums inside of you. You ride out your own high by grinding against him. For what feels like hours, but probably only lasted seconds, the two of you hold each other as you blissfully glide through paradise. Another knock at the door disrupts your peace.

“Go,” you whisper to him. “I’ll meet you again later.”

Apollo’s lips meet yours once more, the kiss a lingering, tender farewell that seems to stretch time itself. His touch is soft yet electrifying, a final whisper of affection that dances across your senses. As he pulls away, his gaze holds yours with a mixture of warmth and melancholy.

With a final, adoring smile, Apollo turns toward the edge of your balcony. The soft glow of moonlight highlights his divine features, casting a silvery halo around him. He moves with an otherworldly grace, his steps light and fluid as if he’s gliding rather than walking.

In a fleeting moment, he stands at the edge, the morning air swirling around him like a gentle, ethereal embrace. With a final, lingering glance, he leaps effortlessly into the day, his form vanishing into the soft, velvety light from the morning sun. As he disappears from view, the faintest shimmer of his presence lingers in the air, leaving you with the tender echo of his touch and the soft, wistful glow of his departure.

Chapter 4: Desolate Dreams

The café near the bustling campus buzzes with the animated voices of students and the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee. Jihoon sits tucked away in a cozy corner, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he checks his phone for the umpteenth time, awaiting Y/N’s arrival. Each passing second feels like an eternity, filled with anticipation and the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

Finally, she steps through the café door, her smile radiant and infectious. Jihoon’s heart skips a beat as their eyes lock, a wave of relief washing over him. She approaches his table, and the air between them crackles with a mix of nerves and excitement, a dance of emotions that plays out in every glance and smile.

“Hey,” she says, sliding into the chair opposite Jihoon. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Jihoon manages a shy grin. “No worries. I’ve only just got here myself.”

They exchange pleasantries, the atmosphere around them charged with a subtle flirtatious energy. Jihoon finds himself captivated by her easy charm and the sparkle in her eyes as they banter back and forth. The conversation flows effortlessly, touching on everything from classes to hobbies, but it’s their shared passion for music that truly lights up the space between them.

Her face lights up as she talks about her favorite newest project. Jihoon listens intently, hanging on her every word, feeling a kinship in their mutual love for music. He shares snippets of his own musical aspirations, and Y/N’s genuine interest sparks a newfound confidence within him.

“It’d be amazing to see your studio. I’d even help with that song you’re stuck on if you want me to,” she suggests with a playful glint in her eye.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Jihoon replies, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of sharing his unreleased music with her.

In the warm ambiance of the café, surrounded by the aroma of freshly ground coffee and the soft murmur of other patrons, Jihoon and Y/N begin to forge a connection that transcends the ordinary. She leans in closer, her words becoming more intimate, her laughter ringing out like a shared secret. Everything Y/N does reminds him of you.

As they linger over their drinks, Jihoon feels a sense of exhilaration mingled with contentment. Being with her feels right like he’s stumbled upon something special amidst the chaos of his life. He can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly they seem to fit together, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm.

Jihoon cannot deny the magnetic pull drawing him closer to her. Y/N’s presence is a beacon of light in his life, illuminating his path with hope and love. He feels a desperate need to protect her, to shield her from any harm that might threaten her fragile happiness.

In the intimate embrace of Jihoon’s studio, the soft, golden light filters gently through the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over a space filled with musical instruments and cherished memorabilia. The room breathes with the echoes of countless melodies, yet today, it’s imbued with a unique sense of anticipation.

Y/N had suggested playing a piece for Jihoon, a haunting melody that had lingered in her mind—a melody she had struggled to piece together on her own. Jihoon, after carefully maneuvering the harp into the recording booth through numerous attempts, positions Y/N at the heart of the studio. With a nod of readiness, she signals Jihoon, who presses the record button with a mix of reverence and excitement.

Seated gracefully by the harp, Y/N’s presence seems to embody serenity and poise. Her fingers move with delicate precision, each motion a dance across the strings. As she begins to play, the air fills with a melody that unfurls like a wistful story. The notes flow with a fluid grace, weaving through the space with a familiarity that transcends time—a melody imbued with the echoes of ancient love and longing.

Jihoon listens, his heart stirred by the profound beauty of the music. The melody is more than just notes; it is a haunting, ethereal song that he has known for lifetimes. The strains of the harp bring back a rush of memories, fragments of a distant past that had faded over time but now resurface with crystal clarity. The melody, a link to a bygone era, reverberates through him, stirring emotions he thought were long buried.

Standing in the dimly lit studio, Jihoon is mesmerized, his gaze fixed on Y/N. The tears that sting his eyes are a testament to the overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief that fills his heart. The music is a bridge between past and present, its poignant notes binding him to a time and a person he thought he had lost forever. Each chord and every delicate arpeggio is a whisper from another era, weaving a connection between them that is as timeless as it is profound.

As you finish playing, a gentle silence descends upon the studio, punctuated only by the soft echoes of their shared emotions. Jihoon finds his voice, choked with emotion yet filled with gratitude. “Y/N, that was... breathtaking,” Jihoon manages to say, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. 

You smile warmly, your eyes reflecting understanding and a hint of affection. “I’m glad you liked it. You’re more than welcome to use it, I’ve had trouble putting it to use for ages.”

Before you prepare to leave, Jihoon gathers his courage, his heart beating with anticipation as he extends a heartfelt invitation to Y/N. His voice trembles slightly with a mix of nerves and hope as he speaks.

“Y/N, would you... would you join me at the listening party for my album?” Jihoon asks, his eyes searching for yours earnestly. “I would love for you to be there.”

Your expression softens with a smile, her gaze meeting Jihoon’s with warmth and understanding. “I’d be honored to come, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s heart swells at your words. As soon as he’s said goodbye, and you’re out of earshot, he lets out a joyful shout. Immediately, he gets behind his computer to finish the song. In the dimly lit solitude of his studio, Jihoon sits before his piano, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. The air is thick with anticipation and reverence as he gathers his thoughts, his own haunting melody and poignant lyrics echoing in his mind. They stir ancient memories and timeless emotions, weaving themselves into the fabric of Jihoon’s being.

With each note that resonates through the air, Jihoon pours his heart and soul into the composition. He closes his eyes, allowing his lyrics to flow like a river of emotions, carrying with them the echoes of laughter and tears shared with you. The piano becomes an extension of his deepest feelings, each chord and progression a reflection of their shared past and the uncertainty of their present love.

His voice rises in a haunting melody that fills the room. His lyrics imbued with vulnerability and raw honesty—from the depths of longing to the heights of uncertain love. Every word is a testament to the fragile nature of their connection, a reflection of Jihoon’s inner turmoil and his yearning for clarity.

Through the timeless alchemy of music, Jihoon channels the essence of your relationship’s uncertainty. Each lyric becomes a vessel for his doubts and hopes, immortalizing his complex emotions in a symphony of passion and introspection. The song evolves with each heartfelt verse, capturing the bittersweet beauty of their intertwined destinies.

As the final notes of “What Kind of Future” fade into the stillness of the night, Jihoon feels a profound sense of catharsis wash over him. The song stands as a testament to your journey, a poignant reminder of the depth of their connection despite the uncertainties that lie ahead.

The air is thick with the heady fragrance of pine sap and the earthy richness of the forest floor. Soft murmurs of unseen creatures create a haunting symphony that reverberates through the dense canopy overhead. Moonlight, filtered through the tangled branches, spills in delicate shafts that paint the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Apollo's heart pounds with a frantic rhythm, his golden hair and divine robes catching in the underbrush as he runs. His keen senses are overwhelmed by a sense of impending dread. A dryad, her voice trembling with concern, had led him here with the dire news of your plight—of Ares and the terrible fate that had befallen you.

The serene landscape around him seems almost to hold its breath as Apollo crashes through the forest, his footsteps echoing like thunder through the ancient woods. The moonlight reveals a gruesome contrast to the tranquil beauty: your lifeless body lies crumpled amidst the tangled foliage. The sight is a brutal shock—a vivid splash of crimson staining the otherwise peaceful scene, a jarring testament to the violence that had taken place.

Apollo's breath catches in his throat. The world around him blurs as his gaze locks onto the sight of Ares, who stands grimly beside your corpse. The presence of the god of war is a dark blight on the scene, his fierce eyes meeting Apollo's with a cold, unfeeling gaze.

Time seems to freeze in that moment, a heavy silence descending upon the forest as Apollo's heart clenches with anguish. The serene beauty of the woods is eclipsed by the brutal reality of what he has found. With a final, anguished cry, he rushes to your side, his footsteps pounding through the silence of the ancient woods. Each step feels like an eternity, his divine energy merging with the primal pain of his loss as he reaches out to you, desperate to reclaim the love that has been so cruelly torn away.

“Y/N, no!” Apollo’s voice shatters the quiet, filled with raw anguish. He kneels beside her, hands trembling as he reaches out to gently cradle her still form. His voice breaks with sorrow and rage, a primal scream of anguish tearing through the trees.

Tears stream down his face unchecked, mingling with the blood that stains her pale skin. The vibrant life she once possessed now lies still and cold, a cruel testament to the fragility of mortal existence.

“Y/N, please come back,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “You can’t leave me like this.”

Memories surge through his mind like a tempest. He is engulfed by a flood of images—the warmth of the sun on your faces, the way your laughter seemed to dance through the skies, the tender vows exchanged beneath a starlit canopy. These moments, once full of life and hope, now feel achingly ephemeral, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

In the midst of this chaotic despair, Apollo can do nothing but clutch your lifeless body to his chest. His hands, trembling with sorrow, hold you as if by sheer force of will he might bring you back from the brink of oblivion. His heart, once a vessel of divine strength, is now shattered into a myriad of irreparable fragments. Each beat echoes with the agony of loss, a cacophony of pain that reverberates through his very soul. The once bright and eternal light within him dims, consumed by the overwhelming darkness of grief.

The forest bears witness to Apollo’s grief, its ancient trees standing sentinel around them as he mourns the loss of his beloved. His sorrow reverberates through the very fabric of their shared existence, a testament to the devastating impact of Ares’ cruel betrayal. The once-peaceful woods seem to sigh in sympathy, the breeze carrying Apollo’s cries of anguish into the stillness.

Through tear-blurred eyes, he looks up at Ares, standing amidst the trees. His eyes are cold and unrepentant. Apollo’s grief transforms into a surge of anger.

“You!” Apollo’s voice is hoarse with rage as he struggles to rise to his feet. “You did this!”

Ares’ voice is as frigid and unyielding as steel, his expression devoid of warmth or empathy. “Hera’s decree. If she can’t see you dead, she’ll make sure to find another way to make you suffer for daring to be Zeus’ new favorite.”

Fueled by a mix of sorrow and fury, Apollo attempts to lunge at Ares, but his grief-weakened body betrays him. He stumbles, collapsing back to the ground, his strength sapped by the overwhelming despair. His fingers dig into the earth, trying to push himself up again, but it’s no use. The weight of his sorrow is too great.

Ares watches him with a sneer. “Pathetic,” he mutters before turning away and disappearing into the depths of the forest.

Apollo’s vision blurs as fresh tears spill from his eyes. “I’ll make you pay,” he vows, his voice barely a whisper. “One day, I’ll make you pay.”

Determined and desperate, Apollo descends into the Underworld—his body still covered in your blood. The River Styx looms ahead, its dark waters whispering of forgotten souls and eternal rest. The urgency of his mission propels him forward, the weight of his grief a constant companion.

“Charon!” Apollo calls out, his voice echoing across the dark expanse. The ferryman appears, his skeletal form shrouded in shadows, and with a nod, he extends a bony hand. Apollo places a gold coin into the ferryman’s palm, the payment for passage.

As the boat cuts through the inky water, Apollo’s mind races. He must convince Hades to return you from the clutches of death. The mere thought of your lifeless form lying in the forest is unbearable.

Upon reaching the other side, Apollo steps onto the ashen shore and makes his way to the imposing gates of the Underworld. Cerberus, the three-headed guardian, growls low, each head eyeing him warily. With a wave of his hand and a murmur of soothing words, Apollo pacifies the beast and continues forward.

In the throne room, Hades sits in brooding silence, his dark eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression. 

“Hades,” Apollo begins, his voice steady but filled with urgency, “I have come to ask for the return of my Y/N. Her death was unjust, a result of Hera’s jealousy and Ares’ brutality. She deserves another chance at life.”

Hades regards Apollo with a mixture of curiosity and pity. “Apollo, god of light, even you must know the rules of my realm. No soul leaves without due reason, and certainly not without its appointed time.”

“But she was taken too soon!” Apollo’s desperation seeps into his words. “She had so much more to live for, so much love left to give.”

Hades leans forward, his gaze intense. “The balance of life and death is not so easily swayed. Every soul has its time, and its place in the grand design. To disrupt that order is to invite chaos.”

Apollo’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “Then let me take her place. I will remain here, in her stead. Just let her return to the living.”

Hades' expression is soft with understanding underneath the cold exterior. “Apollo, your love for her is evident, but such exchanges are not within our power to grant lightly. The threads of fate are woven tightly, and even the gods must respect them.”

“But why?” Apollo’s voice breaks, the raw edge of his grief cutting through the stillness. “Why must she suffer for the whims of others?”

Hades sighs, a rare glimpse of compassion in his eyes. “Because it is not her time to return. Her soul must find its peace here, in its due course. To interfere would be to unravel the very fabric of existence. Wait now, and meet her again in the future when her soul returns to Earth through another body.”

Tears stream down Apollo’s face, his hope crumbling to dust. “Then what am I to do now? How can I go on without her?”

“Grieve, Apollo. Grieve and remember her. Cherish the love you shared, and let it guide you through this darkness. In time, the pain will lessen, and her memory will become a source of strength rather than sorrow.”

Apollo nods, his heart laden with the somber weight of acceptance. He had ventured in search of a miracle, only to discover that even gods are not exempt from the inescapable embrace of death.

With a final, sorrowful glance at Hades, Apollo turns and makes his way back to the living world, the shadows of the Underworld lingering in his heart. The path ahead seems bleak, but he resolves to honor your memory, carrying the light of their love with him as he faces the uncertain days to come.

In the stillness of Jihoon’s bedroom, where moonlight weaves ghostly patterns through the curtains and shadows dance across the walls, a sudden jolt shatters the tranquility. Jihoon bolts awake, his body drenched in sweat and his breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Tears streak his cheeks, remnants of a nightmarish vision that clings to him like a chilling specter. The room’s serene ambiance is obliterated by the sharp sting of his awakening, leaving him trembling and disoriented, as the haunting echoes of his dream continue to reverberate through the silence.

Gasping for air, Jihoon’s heart pounds with sorrow and panic, his mind still ensnared in the vivid echoes of his grief. His hands tremble with residual emotion as he tries to shake off the tendrils of the nightmare that have left him shaken to the core.

As Jihoon reaches for the glass of water on his bedside table, his trembling fingers betray him. The glass slips from his grasp, falling in slow motion as if time itself is taunting him. It crashes to the floor with a sharp, splintering explosion, sending shards of glass skittering across the room. The sound is jarring, a violent punctuation mark to the unsettling silence that followed his abrupt awakening.

Startled and disoriented, Jihoon stares blankly at the scattered fragments, each shard reflecting the fractured state of his mind. The broken glass, glinting ominously in the moonlight, mirrors the chaos roiling within him.

“Get a grip, Jihoon,” he mutters to himself, his voice a strained whisper of reassurance amidst the turmoil. “It’s over. It’s just a nightmare.”

With a weary sigh, Jihoon drags himself from the bed, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on him like a leaden shroud. He moves cautiously, his footsteps heavy as he carefully picks up the larger pieces of glass, wincing with each crunch underfoot. The small, jagged shards are painstakingly gathered and swept into a dustpan, his hands moving with mechanical precision.

The act of cleaning up the glass is both a physical and emotional distraction, a way to ground himself in the mundane reality of the present. Each piece he collects feels like a step toward regaining control, a small act of order in the wake of his distress.

When the last of the glass is cleared away, Jihoon returns to his bed with a bone-deep weariness. He sinks into the sheets, burying his face in his hands as if to shield himself from the lingering echoes of his nightmare. The bed, once a refuge, now feels like an oppressive weight as he grapples with the flood of sadness and fear that continues to haunt him. Exhaustion envelops him like a cold, unforgiving tide, pulling him down as he struggles to find solace in the fragile embrace of sleep.

In the stillness of the night, Jihoon wrestles with the aftermath of his tumultuous dream, grappling with the deep-seated emotions that threaten to consume him. His tears fall silently as he seeks solace in the darkness, longing for the fleeting comfort of sleep to bring respite from the relentless ache in his heart.

“Please, just let me sleep,” he pleads, closing his eyes against the tears. “Let me forget, even just for a little while.”

Outside, the world sleeps unaware of Jihoon’s turmoil, but inside his bedroom, shadows dance and moonlight weaves a soft tapestry of light and dark. Jihoon remains caught in the grip of sorrow and exhaustion, waiting for the dawn to bring clarity and a renewed strength to face the day ahead.

“I’ll be okay,” he tells himself, though his voice lacks conviction. “I just need to rest. Tomorrow will be better.”

But as the night stretches on, Jihoon can only hope that the morning light will chase away the shadows of his dreams and bring with it the peace he so desperately seeks.

Chapter 5: Resonance of Forgotten Tides

The album-listening party thrums with vibrant anticipation, its energy a living pulse that vibrates through the room. Conversations mingle with the rich swell of background music, creating a tapestry of sound and chatter. You navigate through the animated crowd, your heart fluttering with a blend of excitement and curiosity.

Across the room, Jihoon’s gaze meets yours. A genuine smile blossoms across his face, his eyes sparkling with warmth. He makes his way through the sea of guests, his presence commanding attention. As he reaches you, he extends a hand with an inviting gesture.

“Glad you could make it,” Jihoon says, his voice a blend of enthusiasm and relief. “Come, let me show you around.”

As Jihoon leads you through the gathering, you’re enveloped in the rich, immersive atmosphere of the party. The room is alive with animated conversation and the tantalizing promise of new music. A subtle, almost imperceptible recognition stirs deep within you—a sensation that you’ve been here before, in a place where music and memories intertwine.

Jihoon guides you to a prime spot at the front of the room, his touch light on your back as he gestures to the small stage. “I’ll be introducing the album in a moment,” he says, his tone imbued with both excitement and a hint of nervousness. “I hope you enjoy it.”

He then steps away, ascending the stage with a confident stride. The room's chatter fades, replaced by a reverent hush as Jihoon takes the microphone. His voice, warm and engaging, begins to speak, but you’re too absorbed in the growing tension to focus on his words.

As the first notes of the album unfurl, they drift through the room with an almost ethereal grace. The sound weaves through the crowd, each note delicate and precise, creating a soft, shimmering veil of music that envelops everyone present. The songs flow seamlessly into one another, each transition smooth and fluid, heightening the anticipation that crackles in the air like static electricity.

But it is the final track that captures your attention with an intensity that feels almost supernatural. As the opening chords of the song emerge, a wave of haunting familiarity crashes over you. The melody wraps itself around your senses, its pull almost magnetic, as if the music itself is reaching out to touch a part of you buried deep within.

Each note, each lyric, resonates with an eerie familiarity, stirring memories that seem to slip just out of reach. The melody is both mesmerizing and unsettling, tugging at your emotions with a power that is both awe-inspiring and bewildering. It feels as though the music is unearthing something buried in the recesses of your mind, a part of you that you had almost forgotten.

A tumultuous mix of awe, confusion, and an inexplicable yearning swirls within you. Your heart races, pounding in sync with the rhythm of the song as it weaves its intricate patterns of beauty and emotional depth. The music resonates with a hauntingly ethereal quality, drawing you to the edge of forgotten memories, leaving you teetering between the echoes of the past and the reality of the present.

As Jihoon’s voice rises to its emotional zenith in the song’s poignant conclusion, a profound shift occurs within you. It feels as though a floodgate has been flung open in your mind, unleashing a torrent of memories from a past life.

You catch fleeting glimpses of an opulent, bygone era, each image shimmering with the golden hues of a sunlit past. The grandeur of a stately manor unfurls before you, its rooms draped in luxurious fabrics and adorned with intricate tapestries that tell stories of ancient splendor. Crystal chandeliers cast their radiant glow, illuminating moments of blissful intimacy that you once shared with Apollo.

You see yourself wandering through verdant gardens, where the air is thick with the intoxicating fragrance of blooming roses and citrus blossoms. Apollo stands beside you, his divine presence a beacon of warmth amidst the lush greenery. His golden hair glows like a halo under the dappled sunlight, and his laughter rings like a celestial melody, mingling with the whispers of the breeze.

You recall tender moments spent beneath sprawling orange trees, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. Apollo’s fingers gently pluck an orange, the tangy scent mingling with the floral aroma of the garden as he leans in to kiss your cheek, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

You find yourselves on a sun-drenched terrace overlooking an azure sea, the water sparkling like sapphires under the afternoon sun. Apollo holds you close, his embrace a sanctuary of warmth and comfort. The two of you dance together, moving in perfect harmony to a melody only you two can hear. His gaze is unwavering, filled with adoration and an eternity of promises.

The images are vivid and overwhelming, crashing against the shores of your consciousness like a torrent of nostalgia. Each memory is a testament to a love that transcended mortal boundaries, a bond forged in the fires of an ancient romance that defied time itself. The overwhelming flood of sensations and emotions sweeps through you, leaving you breathless and awestruck as you stand on the precipice of a past life that now feels as tangible as the present.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as the profound realization dawns upon you. Jihoon’s song is not just a melody—it is a reflection of your shared past, a testament to a love that has spanned across centuries. The realization threads through your mind, weaving together the fragmented pieces of your intertwined destinies into a tapestry of profound clarity.

As the final echoes of the music fade, you turn your gaze toward Jihoon, your heart aching with the weight of newfound understanding. He stands alone in a distant corner of the room, a solitary figure amidst the sea of guests. But Jihoon, consumed by his own emotional storm, does not meet your eyes.

Driven by the urgent pulse of your revelation, you find yourself desperately pushing through the swarming sea of partygoers. The crowd feels almost alive, a living barrier of laughing faces and chattering voices that press in on you from all sides. Each movement you make is slowed by their collective inertia, every step forward a Herculean effort against the relentless tide of bodies.

The cacophony of the party—laughter, clinking glasses, and the echo of the final notes from Jihoon's album—seems to swell around you, amplifying your sense of isolation and anxiety. You catch fleeting glimpses of Jihoon’s retreating figure, his back turned as he navigates the throng of guests, and your heart pounds with a frantic rhythm, each beat driven by the fear of losing him.

Sweat beads on your forehead, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as you struggle to forge a path through the crowd. The warmth of the room, once inviting, now feels stifling, a physical manifestation of the mounting pressure in your chest. Your hands graze the edges of people’s jackets and the fabric of their clothes, their voices a dissonant symphony that heightens your growing sense of panic.

Just as you make a final, desperate push to reach him, you see Jihoon slip through the side door, disappearing into the night beyond the party's glow. The door closes with a muted thud that resonates like a final, crushing blow. Your outstretched hand hangs in mid-air.

You’re left standing amidst the echoes of the party’s final notes and the fading hum of conversation, the realization of your intertwined past hanging heavily in the air around you. The once-celebratory atmosphere now feels hollow and distant, the weight of your unspoken truth settling over you like a shroud.

In Jihoon’s apartment, the air is thick with an unsettling stillness, punctuated only by the distant murmur of city life that drifts through the open window. The urban symphony—a low rumble of traffic, the occasional distant siren—filters into the room, but it feels like a world away from the silence that hangs heavy within the apartment.

Jihoon stands alone amidst this quiet, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a physical burden. His suitcase, meticulously packed, lies on the bed, its presence a stark reminder of his imminent departure. The room, usually vibrant with his personal touches, now seems stark and impersonal, a reflection of his state of mind. Boxes, filled with his life’s possessions, are stacked haphazardly, waiting to be moved, each one a symbol of his reluctance to settle and face the past.

He gazes out of the window at the sprawling city skyline, a mosaic of shimmering lights and shadowy buildings that stretch into the horizon. The sight is both mesmerizing and melancholic, a visual representation of the opportunities slipping through his fingers. The vast expanse of the city, once full of promise, now seems like an endless expanse of regret and missed chances.

As Jihoon wrestles with the tumultuous mix of regret, longing, and bitter heartache, the weight of his unfulfilled love for you bears down heavily on him. The uncertainty of what could have been gnaws at him relentlessly, each thought a jagged edge that tears at his resolve. The decision to leave seems like the only way to escape the emotional turmoil that has become his constant companion.

His phone vibrates with a text from his manager, breaking through the fog of his thoughts: “I’m ready to take you to the airport.” The message is both a call to action and a finality, pushing him closer to the edge of his decision. With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, Jihoon realizes there is nothing left to hold him back.

He takes one last look around the apartment, the echo of his footsteps sounding hollow in the empty space. The city outside continues its relentless pace, indifferent to his departure. He grabs his suitcase, the weight of it a tangible reminder of the life he is leaving behind, and steps out of the apartment. The cool night air greets him as he descends the building’s steps, each movement a step away from the life he once knew and the love he is forced to leave behind.

As he heads towards the waiting car, the finality of his choice settles around him like a shroud, the city lights fading into a blur of regret and sorrow.

The airport terminal hums with frenetic energy, a living tapestry of farewells and reunions. The cacophony of rolling suitcases, urgent announcements, and the murmur of conversations creates a backdrop of bustling urgency. Amid this whirlwind of activity, Jihoon stands on the precipice of departure, his thoughts steeped in a brooding contemplation. His eyes are distant, fixated on the distant plane that promises escape.

But just as he readies himself to step onto the jet bridge, the atmosphere around him shifts, charged with an unexpected jolt. Through the dense sea of hurried travelers and flashing departure boards, a figure emerges—it's you. Your presence cuts through the crowd like a beacon, a luminous thread of determination weaving its way through the chaos.

Jihoon's heart leaps as he locks eyes with you, his face a canvas of disbelief and shock. The world narrows to just the space between you, the terminal's clamor fading into a distant hum.

"Jihoon, wait!" your voice pierces through the din, a lifeline in the tempest of the terminal.

You move with urgency, each step resonating like a heartbeat in the cavernous space. Your strides are firm, purposeful, and as you close the distance, the tumult around you seems to pause, holding its breath. Jihoon's breath catches in his throat as you reach him, and in an instant, your arms are around him, enveloping him in a desperate, fervent embrace. The warmth of your body presses against his, grounding him with a sensation both calming and electrifying.

"Y/N?" Jihoon's voice trembles, revealing the storm of emotions within him.

Tears pool in Jihoon's eyes as he feels your breath against his ear, your whisper a soft, aching caress that resonates through his very soul. "I remember everything," you murmur, each word imbued with the gravity of eons of shared memories and unspoken yearnings. "I remember everything. Please don’t leave, Jihoon."

A tidal wave of emotion surges through Jihoon, an intoxicating mix of joy, relief, and incredulity at this miraculous convergence of fate. The chaos of the airport fades into obscurity as he clings to you, your embrace a sanctuary amidst the tumult of travelers and terminal announcements. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that rekindles a cascade of memories—each breath a journey back to the shared moments that had once bound them together.

“I can’t believe that it's you,” Jihoon whispers, his voice trembling with emotion. “I thought I lost you forever.”

You tighten your grip around him, your voice filled with conviction. “I couldn't let you go, not again.”

Around them, travelers rush past, oblivious to the profound moment unfolding. For Jihoon and you, time seems to stand still as you cling to each other, your hands intertwined as if anchoring yourselves against the uncertain currents of life. The sounds of announcements, footsteps, and rolling suitcases blend into a distant hum.

“Promise me,” Jihoon murmurs, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, “promise me we’ll never be apart again.”

You nod, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I promise.”

As airport security approaches, Jihoon’s grip around you tightens, his fingers refusing to let go. He senses the impending intrusion and instinctively draws you closer, pressing your head gently into the crook of his neck. His embrace is protective, shielding you from the sight of the security personnel who are making their way over to address the disturbance.

With a fierce determination, Jihoon’s eyes lock onto the approaching officers, silently pleading with them to respect the precious moment between the two of you. He keeps his voice low and steady, murmuring softly against your ear, “Just hold on a little longer.”

The security team hesitates, momentarily taken aback by Jihoon's unwavering stance. He subtly gestures to them, signaling that everything is under control. They read the unspoken command in his eyes and, after a brief pause, step back, giving you and Jihoon a moment of reprieve.

Jihoon gently loosens his embrace, just enough to glance at you. His movements are deliberate and careful, designed to keep you blissfully unaware of the escalating tension around you. His eyes scan the crowd, ensuring that no hint of anxiety reaches your serene expression. With tender precision, he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch feather-light, as though he’s afraid to disrupt the calm you maintain.

You respond with a kiss that is both soft and resolute, your lips lingering on Jihoon’s in a silent promise. “I’ll never leave you,” you murmur, your words floating between you like a lifeline amidst the surrounding chaos. The declaration is a small beacon of reassurance in the whirlwind of uncertainty.

Jihoon’s grip on your hand tightens once more, his fingers wrapping around yours with a fervent tenderness that conveys the depth of his love and commitment. His gaze, locked with yours, mirrors a profound sense of devotion and urgency. Together, you weave through the dense mass of passengers, each step a defiant push against the stream of hurried travelers.

The world around you blurs into a chaotic swirl of colors and noises, but in the cocoon of your intertwined hands and shared glances, you find a grounding solace. The chaos of the airport recedes into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your combined presence. In the eye of this storm, your connection becomes an unwavering anchor, a quiet sanctuary amidst the frenetic energy of the departing crowd.

Epilogue: Sunlit Mornings and Quiet Evenings

The morning sun wove its gentle rays through the sheer curtains of your cozy apartment, casting a soft, golden luminescence that bathed the room in a tranquil, ethereal light. The city outside stirred with its habitual, soothing hum—an ambient symphony that mirrored the serene sanctuary of your home. Within this peaceful cocoon, you lay tangled in the sheets, your body twisting restlessly as you resisted the arrival of dawn.

Suddenly, the comforting warmth of your husband’s presence beside you is absent, and you stir awake with a jolt. Your eyes scan the room in a sleepy haze, but he’s nowhere to be seen. A tantalizing hint of sweetness wafts through the air, pulling you from the clutches of sleep. The inviting aroma of breakfast being prepared reaches your senses, urging you out of bed.

With a yawn and a stretch, you push aside the covers. After your wedding night you've slept naked, never wanting to sleep next to your husband without being as close as you possibly could be. So, before venturing out of the bedroom, you slip into one of his oversized t-shirts. The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, its familiar scent a soothing reminder of him.

As you wander through your apartment, every corner of the space tells a story—a living mosaic of your journey together. The walls are adorned with mementos of your shared adventures, each item a tangible fragment of your love and history. You pause beside a framed photograph from your honeymoon in Greece, the sunlit image a cherished memory. A smile tugs at your lips as you take in the scene, savoring the warmth of the moment before continuing your path to the kitchen, where the promise of a lovingly prepared breakfast awaits.

In the kitchen, Jihoon stands by the stove, a vision of effortless grace and casual allure. His tousled golden hair catches the morning light, glinting with every subtle movement, while the faintest scent of him mingles with the aroma of breakfast. His bare back is a tapestry of finely honed muscles, each sinew and contour moving with fluid precision as he flips pancakes with a practiced ease. The soft, melodic hum that escapes his lips seems almost to dance in harmony with the sizzle of the batter on the pan.

The low-hanging pants he wears hang precariously from his hips, accentuating his sculpted form and adding to the mesmerizing tableau. His every motion, from the gentle arch of his back to the easy sway of his torso, is imbued with an innate elegance and strength. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking—an intoxicating blend of divine beauty and earthy charm that leaves you spellbound.

In moments like these, it’s impossible to forget that your husband is more than mortal. He embodies an otherworldly grace, a living testament to the godly allure that first drew you to him. His presence in the kitchen is a reminder of the timeless majesty and irresistible magnetism that defines him, making it clear why he remains an enduring marvel in your life.

The kitchen is enveloped in a warm, inviting aroma—the sweet scent of breakfast mingles seamlessly with the rich, comforting fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. You move softly across the tiled floor, barely making a sound as you approach Jihoon. With a gentle, affectionate touch, you slip your arms around his waist, your fingers splaying across his bare back. Leaning in, you press a series of tender kisses to his warm skin, savoring the intimate closeness.

“Good morning,” you whisper softly, your breath warm against him, carrying the lingering softness of sleep.

Jihoon turns in your embrace, his eyes meeting yours with a love that lights up his face. A smile of pure affection curves his lips. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, a gentle squeeze in return, your gesture a quiet testament to the comfort he brings you. Moving to the counter, you pour yourself a steaming cup of coffee, cradling the warm mug between your hands. The heat from the cup seeps into your fingers, chasing away the last vestiges of the morning chill and wrapping you in its comforting embrace.

“Thanks to you, I did,” you reply, your voice soft and filled with gratitude. “And you?”

Jihoon’s gaze turns back to the stove, his eyes reflecting a deep, unspoken affection. “Always better with you beside me,” he says, his tone a mix of warmth and adoration. “Breakfast will be ready in just a minute.”

While Jihoon tends to the pancakes, you set the table with practiced ease; placing down plates, and cutlery, and adding a bowl of freshly cut fruit alongside a pot of maple syrup. Their movements around the kitchen flow seamlessly, a choreography of shared routines and unspoken affection, each gesture a silent declaration of your love. 

As Jihoon approaches the table with a stack of pancakes, you greet him with a warm, anticipatory smile. He pulls out your chair with a graceful gesture, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary, and you settle into your seat, feeling the subtle brush of his leg against yours as he takes the chair across from you.

The table is soon graced with a generous serving of pancakes, each one a masterpiece adorned with vibrant, fresh fruit and delicately drizzled with syrup that glistens like liquid gold. Jihoon’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction as he places the plate before you.

“Eat well,” he murmurs, his voice low and tender, carrying a note of affection.

You take a bite of the fluffy pancakes, the sweet syrup mingling with the fruit’s tang, and savor the deliciousness. Looking up with a playful glint in your eye, you tease him gently. “I was a bit disappointed to wake up alone this morning, but these pancakes make it all worth it.”

Jihoon chuckles softly, serving himself a portion as he takes his seat. “I had intended to bring you breakfast in bed, but you got up before I could,” he admits, his gaze warm and sincere. “I wanted to make sure you fully enjoyed your day off.”

You smile, a sense of contentment settling over you. “I’m sure I will,” you promise, your voice imbued with a mix of gratitude and anticipation, “especially with you by my side.”

You eat in comfortable silence, the morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow upon your faces. Your smiles spoke volumes, each glance exchanges a silent reassurance of your bond and the happiness you find in each other’s company.

“So.” Jihoon puts down his fork and pushes away his empty plate. “What’s the plan for today?”

You tilt your head in mock consideration, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Well, how about a leisurely walk in the park, a visit to the little bookstore we passed yesterday, and a cozy movie night at home?”

“That sounds perfect. I’ve been curious about that bookstore too.”

“Since when?” you question. “I haven’t seen you read since… I honestly don’t know.”

“I read your last article, don’t you remember? And I’ve been interested in the bookstore since you said that you’re interested in it,” he admits and shyly looks down at his empty plate.

A gentle warmth blooms on your cheeks, curling into a soft, loving smile. As you and Jihoon clear the table together, the morning unfolds like a tender embrace, filled with the harmonious sound of your shared laughter and lighthearted banter. The rhythmic clink of dishes and the hum of the dishwasher become a soothing melody that mingles with your voices, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

Jihoon, with a playful sparkle in his eyes, splashes water towards you as he rinses a plate. You retaliate with a mischievous flick of soap suds, and the kitchen is soon filled with your shared laughter, echoing with the joy of simple pleasures. The routine of washing dishes and tidying up is transformed into a dance of affection, each gesture and glance deepening the bond you share.

As you finish the last of the dishes, Jihoon’s arms wrap around you from behind, his embrace enveloping you in warmth and security. His chin rests gently on your shoulder, and his breath, warm and intimate, caresses your ear as he murmurs, “I love mornings like these.”

You lean back into his embrace, savoring the comforting presence of his body against yours. “Me too,” you whisper, your voice a soft caress.

His lips brush your skin with a loving, delicate touch. As you gaze into his eyes, your heart swells with a profound affection, each moment together weaving a tapestry of love and connection. “I’m so grateful for you,” you say, your voice filled with deep emotion.

After finishing the morning cleanup, you both decide to embrace the tranquility of a park walk. Since your marriage, Jihoon has significantly reduced his public appearances, choosing to protect your shared privacy. This careful balance allows him occasional escapes from the spotlight, like now, avoiding the relentless attention of fans and paparazzi despite being in public. With enough money to ensure a comfortable life, the reduced pace of his music career is a manageable trade-off for both of you.

As you wander through the park, the world outside seems to melt away. The air is cool and invigorating, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. The soft breeze glides over your skin, like a gentle caress that refreshes and revitalizes you with every breath. Above you, the canopy of trees forms a verdant mosaic, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. The play of light and shadow creates a dappled pattern on the path, enhancing the serene atmosphere.

Jihoon’s hand slips into yours, his warmth a comforting presence as you walk side by side. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant murmur of a babbling brook are soothing sounds that blend harmoniously with the peaceful ambiance of the park. Birds chirp melodically from the branches, their songs adding a natural soundtrack to your leisurely stroll.

The park seems to embrace you both, the landscape a serene backdrop to your shared moments. Each step you take together feels like a celebration of your connection, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you revel in each other’s company. The simple joy of this walk through nature, with its refreshing breeze and gentle rustle of leaves, deepens the bond you cherish, making it a cherished escape from the usual hustle and bustle of life.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Jihoon starts, his hand gently squeezing yours as you walk side by side. “We should visit that new art gallery downtown this weekend. I heard they have a fantastic exhibit on impressionist paintings.”

You nod enthusiastically, a smile lighting up your face. “That sounds wonderful! And maybe afterward, we can try that little café you’ve been raving about.”

“I haven't been raving about it" Jihoon playfully rolls his eyes, but he can't hide the red glow on his ears. “I’ve been dying to take you there. They have the best pastries in town.”

Your conversation flows naturally as you stroll through the park, seamlessly shifting from weekend plans to dreams for the future. The soft sounds of nature—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze—create a serene backdrop for your discussion.

"How about a trip to Japan?" you suggest, your gaze following a butterfly as it flutters gracefully by. "We could see the cherry blossoms in full bloom and stay in a traditional ryokan."

Jihoon’s eyes light up, and he nods with a smile. "That sounds perfect. Maybe next spring?"

"Definitely, next spring," you reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "It’s a promise."

You pause beside a serene pond, nestled like a hidden gem among the trees. The water’s surface is a flawless reflection of the sky’s soft blue, only disturbed by the occasional ripple created by ducks gliding smoothly across. Their gentle movements create a tranquil, rhythmic pattern that seems to harmonize with the rustling leaves overhead. Nearby, a charming bronze sculpture catches Jihoon’s eye—a whimsical figure of a child with outstretched arms, captured in an eternal moment of joy.

Jihoon’s eyes light up with a nostalgic twinkle, the warmth of his gaze reflecting his fondness for the place. “Every time we come here, it’s like discovering a new layer of this park’s personality. It feels like it holds little secrets just for us.”

You smile, letting out a soft, affectionate chuckle. “It’s one of those places that seems to change every time you visit. There’s always something new to notice.”

Jihoon’s expression turns contemplative, a trace of nostalgia softening his features. “Do you remember our first visit here?”

Your smile deepens as a tender warmth fills your heart. “I remember you managed to get us completely turned around, and we ended up racing home in the pouring rain. You kept insisting we were just ‘exploring new paths.’”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t get us lost! We were ‘exploring new routes.’ And besides, the rain made it better. We were drenched, but you still managed to look incredible.”

You nudge him playfully, a playful grin on your face. “Right, I was the epitome of soaked chic... But it was worth it. We came back home, took a hot bath together... I still have the photo of you wrapped in towels, you know?”

Jihoon groans, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You kept that?”

“Of course I did,” you reply, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s right next to the one where you’re wearing that ridiculously oversized apron.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Oh, don’t remind me! I had no idea flour could cause such chaos.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand with a shared sense of amusement. “It was one of the few times I was actually grateful for the fire extinguisher. But honestly, those moments are some of my favorites.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still chuckling. “I should be offended by your collection of embarrassing photos. But I have to admit, they do make for great stories.”

“They do,” you say, leaning in closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “And you looked incredibly cute in both of them.”

Jihoon’s cheeks flush a tender pink at your compliment. He tries to mask his embarrassment by leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kiss is gentle and filled with a sweet affection that sends a flutter through your heart.

When he pulls back slightly, his eyes sparkle with a playful warmth. “Well, if I’m cute, I guess I’ll just have to accept it,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

You reach up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the touch intimate and affectionate. “You’ll have to accept it, and maybe start avoiding those memorable disasters.”

Jihoon laughs, his hand finding yours again, their fingers intertwining with ease. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I think you secretly enjoy our little escapades.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling the strength of your connection grow deeper. “Maybe I do.”

You lean in for another kiss, savoring the warmth and softness of his lips against yours. As you pull away, both of you laugh softly, the sound blending with the peaceful ambiance of the park. The vibrant surroundings seem to echo the joy and affection between you, creating a perfect backdrop for your ongoing journey together.

Later on, as you meander through the cozy aisles of the bookstore, the atmosphere envelops you in a nostalgic embrace. The scent of aged paper and ink fills the air, mingling with the subtle murmur of pages being turned—a soft, soothing symphony that enhances the serene ambiance of the space. Shelves upon shelves of books create a labyrinth of literary wonders, each volume whispering its own story.

Jihoon, his eyes alight with curiosity, reaches for a book with a richly embossed cover and pulls it from the shelf. “Look at this one,” he says, holding it out to you. “It’s a collection of Greek myths. This is the book you used to love, right?”

You take the book from him, feeling the textured cover beneath your fingers. The spine creaks gently as you open it, revealing the delicate pages within. “Yes, I did. My grandmother used to read these stories to me before bed,” you reply, your voice tinged with fond memories.

Jihoon leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “To think you were obsessed with me even back then,” he teases with a playful smile, peering over your shoulder at the illustrations and text.

You smile, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Shut up,” you mutter with a playful tone. “Besides, I liked the Pegasus myth the most.”

He chuckles softly, a hint of mock exasperation in his voice. “Are you going to make me compete with a winged horse? What do you see in him that you don’t see in me?”

“Oh, stop it!” you laugh, flipping through the pages with a light-hearted gesture. “I just always found these stories fascinating. They were comforting, somehow.”

Jihoon’s playful demeanor softens, and his gaze turns tender as he gently places his hand over yours, his fingers lightly brushing against yours on the fine pages. “Then let’s get it. We can read them together… maybe pass on the tradition?”

You nod, your heart swelling with warmth at his thoughtful gesture. “I’d like that.”

The notion of starting a family has gently hovered on the periphery of your conversations, like a delicate, unspoken promise. It's a subject often delicately sidestepped in favor of addressing more immediate concerns, with the complexities of melding mortal and divine lives remaining a largely unexplored territory. Yet, Jihoon’s casual mention of passing on traditions stirs something deep within you—a whirlwind of dreams and possibilities wrapped in the warmth of tender, hopeful light.

As you both continue to browse through the bookstore, your thoughts drift to the future and the idea of nurturing a family together. The image of little ones running around, their laughter echoing through your home, begins to take shape in your mind. You envision how magical it would be to pass on stories of ancient myths, like the ones in the book Jihoon holds, to a new generation. These children could grow up hearing tales of gods and heroes, their lives intertwined with the rich tapestry of both mortal and divine worlds.

You imagine the joys and challenges of parenthood—how Jihoon would be a loving, albeit perhaps somewhat protective, father. You picture him sharing stories of his own experiences, creating a blend of wisdom and wonder for your future children. You think of the warmth of family gatherings, the shared laughter, and the little traditions you might create together, all grounded in the love and unity you share.

Jihoon's offhand remark about passing on traditions feels like a doorway opening to new possibilities, each one more enchanting than the last. As you both select books that reflect your shared tastes and interests, you feel the excitement of these future possibilities growing. The weight of the books in your arms seems symbolic of the future you're envisioning—a future that feels rich with potential and brimming with love.

As you head home, the golden rays of the afternoon sun filter through the trees, casting a warm, rosy glow across the sky. The gentle caress of the sun’s embrace wraps around you both, infusing the day with a serene and hopeful atmosphere. With each step, you find yourself daydreaming about the life you might build together—a life where the love and dreams you share become the foundation for a new chapter filled with the joy of family and the fulfillment of long-held aspirations.

As the evening settles into a serene hush, you and Jihoon find yourselves cocooned together on the plush couch, enveloped in the soft embrace of a cozy blanket. The room is bathed in the gentle glow of a muted TV screen, its light casting a warm, amber hue that mingles with the soft illumination of a nearby lamp. The air is filled with the subtle hum of background music, creating a soothing symphony that underscores the tranquil ambiance.

You and Jihoon, having eagerly awaited the release of this new movie, now savor the comfort of this intimate moment. You lean gently against him, your cheek resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic heartbeat beneath your ear is a familiar and comforting pulse, grounding you in a sense of profound contentment.

In the quiet intimacy of the dimly lit room, Jihoon’s touch is tender and affectionate. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. The kiss is a silent promise, a gentle reassurance that transcends words. His hand moves with practiced ease over your arm, tracing delicate, soothing circles that seem to erase the day’s fatigue and envelop you in a cocoon of serenity.

The world outside seems to blur and fade, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of love and peace. The movie plays in the background, its muted colors and subdued soundtrack a mere backdrop to the profound connection you share. You are wholly absorbed in the simple joy of being together, relishing the quiet and precious closeness that defines this moment.

Every shared glance, every unspoken word, deepens the bond between you. It is in these small, tender gestures that you discover the true depth of your affection—an understanding that goes beyond words, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. You realize how deeply you cherish these peaceful evenings, where time slows, and all that matters is the warmth of Jihoon’s embrace and the serenity of being together.

“I love you,” Jihoon whispers, his voice a gentle caress that fills the space between you with a tender warmth.

You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes reflecting a world of emotions that words cannot capture. “I love you, too."

As the movie’s credits roll and the room grows dim, you and Jihoon linger on the couch, savoring the last moments of your quiet evening together. The gentle hum of the TV becomes a soft murmur, blending seamlessly with the soothing sounds of your shared breaths and the rhythmic thump of Jihoon’s heartbeat.

Jihoon stretches lazily, wrapping an arm around you as he begins to stand. “Do you want to head to bed?” he asks, his voice a tender murmur, his eyes still reflecting the warmth of the evening.

You nod, your smile a silent agreement as you rise from the couch. The blanket drapes over your shoulders like a comforting embrace as you follow Jihoon toward the bedroom. The walk is slow and unhurried, each step infused with a peaceful contentment.

Once in the bedroom, Jihoon turns down the covers with practiced ease, his movements gentle and considerate. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light over the room, creating a haven of tranquility. You slip into bed first, savoring the cool, crisp sheets that contrast with the lingering warmth of the evening. Jihoon joins you shortly after, his presence a comforting weight beside you.

You both settle into the bed, your bodies naturally aligning as if they’ve done so countless times before. Jihoon wraps his arms around you, pulling you close until you can feel the steady, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. The proximity is intimate, each touch and sigh a testament to the deep connection you share.

“Goodnight, my love,” Jihoon whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

You turn slightly in his embrace, your face nestled against his chest. “Goodnight."

The world outside fades away, leaving only the cocoon of your shared warmth and the soothing cadence of your breaths mingling in the quiet.

As sleep begins to take you, Jihoon’s fingers gently stroke your arm, each touch a silent declaration of his love. “I love you,” he whispers again, as if to make sure that you really know it, his voice barely audible as he too begins to drift off.

“I love you, too,” you reply softly, your words merging with the soft sounds of the night. “Always.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, you both surrender to the peaceful embrace of sleep, the world outside remaining distant and irrelevant. In the stillness of the night, you find solace and joy in the certainty of your bond, drifting into dreams with hearts full and souls entwined.

feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303, @lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz, @cali-snow, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @wonuvs, @dokyeomkyeom, @kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1

[wooahaeproductions]

Forging the Threads of Time (teaser)

Professor/Greek God Hephaestus Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, reincarnation au, fantasy au

Word Count: 246 (full fic ~4k)

Warnings: none for teaser, tbd for full fic

Rating: 18+

Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

A/N: I'm surprised this is my first teaser ever but I felt you guys deserved it since I've been a little less active lately. This is a teaser for my fic for the 13 Gods of Olympus collab cohosted by me and Aeris @beomcoups. Also thank you so much to the super talented @aaagustd for the amazing banner! ~Maren

FULL FIC HERE

Wonwoo hadn’t been banished to earth for long, a bitter taste left in his mouth after what his mother and supposed wife had done to him. He had taken to frequenting speakeasies, some fancy, some considered a bit dodgy. That didn’t matter when all he was seeking was alcohol to ease the injustice he felt. And that’s when he saw you, a bartender at one of the fancier places he had gone to. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to you, and from the moment you looked at him, he could tell you felt it too.

From then on, he only frequented your speakeasy. Then, he began to date you. For the first and only time, Wonwoo had fallen in love with a mortal.

In the present, Wonwoo tossed and turned under the covers as images playing in his head invaded his sleep, images of you. Images of the first time he met you at the speakeasy, of when you got married, and unfortunately of your last moments in the hospital when your mortality proved itself to be all too real.

He awoke with a start, feeling unsettled. He hadn’t dreamed of you in decades, at least it felt like decades. He couldn’t be sure, since time passed differently for him. You had been mortal but Wonwoo was not. He was immortal, a god. The god Hephaestus to be exact, but he hadn’t gone by that name since the moment his mother banished him.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

[97linelover]

Lights, camera & Action - Kim Mingyu

You were currently getting the cake ready for Mingyu’s return when your phone vibrated. At first, you tried to ignore it. But as it continued to buzz, you answered, “Hi?”

You didn’t check the caller ID. “Hi baby, just wanted to let you know that I’m 5 minutes away,” his raspy voice spoke through the phone.

“Alright love, I can’t wait,” you said with the brightest smile into the phone. “Love you,” you added before ending the call.

You dusted the chocolate nut cake with powdered sugar and then washed the dishes. The sound of Mingyu’s footsteps growing closer made you all giddy.

“Hey baby,” he said with his deep, velvety voice as you turned around, grinning brightly. “Gyu,” you said, practically jumping into his arms.

“God, I missed you,” he said while holding you close, kissing your head. You looked up at him, “One week in Tokyo and then one week in Paris. How was it?” You walked into the kitchen, and Mingyu groaned at the sight of the cake.

“You made my favorite,” he said, his mouth practically watering.

“Yes, you mentioned you were craving something sweet, so I decided to bake a cake,” you said as he kissed you softly. “You know what I really meant with something sweet, my love?” he whispered into your ear while placing soft kisses there.

A small whimper escaped your lips as he gently backed you up until you bumped against the table.

“No cake?” you asked innocently, and he smirked.

“No, baby, I was craving your sweet little pussy,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

He lifted you onto the table, your baby blue summer dress rising to expose your white slip. Mingyu quickly got on his knees and pulled the white fabric aside, eagerly devouring you. His mouth made you cry out his name, and the way he hovered over you, his body pounding into you, made it all you could think about.

“I missed you, fuck,” he groaned as he moved perfectly, hitting every spot he needed to.

“Missed you too, Gyu, so much,” you moaned, feeling the familiar sensation approaching. “Gonna come, Gyu,” you said breathlessly.

“Yes, baby, cream my cock,” his hand wandered to your neck, squeezing slightly.

“Oh God,” you felt yourself tipping over the edge as your entire body shook, Mingyu moving even faster, chasing his own release.

You knew he was close from the way his abs were flexed, his neck vein popping out, and his focused expression. One thing was for sure, Mingyu looked like a Greek god while fucking you, his tan skin glistening with sweat, dark strands of hair falling into his face.

“Fill me up, Gyu,” you moaned, clinging to his arms. His brown eyes found yours, and he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was lazy and slightly sloppy, and soon you felt him fill you up. He kissed your lips again, grinning.

“Well, indeed,” you giggled. “Fuck.”

He pulled out and hastily grabbed a towel to clean you up. You were slightly sore and hissed. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, kissing your thigh. You softly pushed him away.

“Let’s shower,” you said, taking off your dress. Mingyu followed you, and you both enjoyed a quick shower. Mingyu pouted, saying he was hungry.

“Should we order some pasta?” you suggested, and Mingyu agreed. “We can watch the new Inside Out movie,” he said. “There were huge posters everywhere in France.”

“Oh yes, I wanted to watch it last week,” you said happily while tying a knot around your bathrobe.

When the food arrived, Mingyu was quieter than usual, lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Gyu?” you asked, taking some pizza bread.

“I signed a new collab in Paris,” he admitted, and your eyes widened. “Which one?”

“Calvin Klein asked me to be their new ambassador,” he said shyly.

“Calvin Klein? Mingyu, that’s huge!” you said, smiling proudly. He nodded. “It sure is. I have my first official shoot next week, so I need to work out some more.”

“You work out enough, baby. Don’t stress yourself,” you said honestly. He sighed. “But it’s CK; they will all look at my body,” he pouted.

You got up and approached him. “I swear to God, Mingyu, you’re perfect. Your body is so freaking hot, and I know how insane your pictures will look.”

He leaned back, his bare chest on full display. “You think so?” he asked, looking unsure. You nodded. “You’re a dream come true,” you said, opening your bathrobe and letting it fall to the floor. “And I just can’t get enough of you.”

“God, baby,” he groaned. “I think this should be the best workout,” he smirked, kissing your neck.

As the shooting day came, you decided to surprise Mingyu on set. You typed in the address, and your iPhone guided you through the empty neighborhood. Mingyu had told you it was kind of like a warehouse.

You called Sumi, his manager, who walked out of the steel door, waving you in. “Y/N! It’s cold; come inside!” she said with the biggest smile.

You hurried inside. “I took the train today,” you said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, Gyu told us you were stubborn this morning,” she said playfully. You laughed. “He was in a rush, so I didn’t want to keep him behind.”

“Perfect! He’s already shooting the first look. There are three more,” Sumi said, and you nodded while listening. “Does he know?” she asked.

You shook your head. “No, I got off work earlier!” you smiled.

“He will be happy,” she said, smiling. You saw the lights of the camera flashing. “Yes, like that. Now grab the shirt, flirt with the camera,” the photographer instructed.

You saw Mingyu standing there, dressed in jeans and no shirt. Your mouth fell agape. Shirtless?

You watched every move he made, fascinated by his professionalism. The way he moved his arms, how he lured the camera in with his eyes, and how he bit his lip while stroking down his abs.

Mingyu looked up, and his eyes found yours, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Okay, and we are done!” the photographer yelled. Mingyu ran towards you, lifting you up while twirling you around. “My baby!” he said, kissing your lips softly.

“Mingyu, hurry. Next outfit!” a petite girl said. “You can go into the changing room, and then we will help you once you’re dressed.”

“Come on, you can help me change,” Mingyu said, smirking. You gasped, “Gyu, not here.” He laughed.

You followed him into the small dressing room, where a pair of boxer shorts and jeans lay. “Will you be wearing a shirt?” you asked, confused.

“Yeah, a jeans jacket,” Mingyu chuckled.

“Mmm,” you muttered, feeling slightly possessive.

Mingyu didn’t have time to think about your mood and quickly changed. You watched him with curious eyes. “Do you like it?” he asked, his shy smile as he turned towards you.

“You look sexy,” you said honestly, kissing him softly.

A knock interrupted you. “We’ll finish later,” he whispered in your ear.

You watched as he stood there, looking at the pictures with a hint of red on his cheeks. Was he blushing?

“Baby, come here,” he said, and you shyly walked over. “Are those good?” he asked, showing you some of the photos. You looked over them and pointed out one where he flexed his arms above his head. “This one is really good!”

Mingyu grinned, pulling you closer. “You have an eye for this,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “But what do you think? Should we frame this one for our room?”

You laughed, “Only if you sign it.” Mingyu chuckled and kissed your temple, “Deal.”

The rest of the shoot went smoothly, and every time you caught Mingyu’s gaze, he would send a wink your way, making your heart flutter. You couldn’t wait to have him all to yourself again.

As the shoot wrapped up, Mingyu thanked the team with his signature charm, giving everyone around him a smile that could light up the entire room. You watched him interact with the crew, feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest. He was so natural, so confident—yet the way he kept glancing at you showed that, no matter how many people admired him, his attention was always on you.

After he changed out of the last outfit, Mingyu walked over to you, his hand slipping naturally into yours. “Ready to go, my love?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied, squeezing his hand. As you two walked out of the building, the cool evening air greeted you, making you shiver slightly. Mingyu noticed immediately and pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

The car ride back home was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft music playing on the radio. Every now and then, Mingyu would glance over at you, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as he drove. The city lights flickered by, creating a soft glow that danced across his features.

When you finally arrived home, Mingyu turned off the car and looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know,” he started, his voice teasing, “I still owe you a little ‘thank you’ for surprising me today.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending not to know what he meant. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on thanking me, Mr. Calvin Klein ambassador?”

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you slowly, taking his time as if savoring every second. “I think you’ll like it,” he whispered against your lips before pulling back and hopping out of the car, quickly moving around to open your door. His chivalry never failed to make you smile.

As soon as you stepped inside your apartment, Mingyu’s hands were on you, pulling you close as he kicked the door shut behind him. His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, his hands roaming your back, pulling you flush against him.

“You know,” he murmured between kisses, “seeing you there today… watching me… it drove me crazy.” His voice was deep, laced with desire.

You smiled against his lips. “Is that so?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair. “Then I guess I should surprise you more often.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through you as he picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “You’re welcome to surprise me anytime,” he said, carrying you towards the bedroom.

Once inside, Mingyu gently laid you down on the bed, his eyes darkening with need. He took his time undressing you, his fingers lingering on every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory.

When he finally joined you, the air between you was electric, filled with unspoken promises. His touch was gentle at first, reverent, as if he was worshipping every part of you. But as the night went on, the need between you both grew stronger, more urgent.

Mingyu made love to you with a fervor that left you breathless, every kiss, every touch, driving you both closer to the edge. And when you finally reached that point of no return, it felt like the world disappeared around you, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment.

Afterward, you lay in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled together, hearts still racing. Mingyu’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his breathing steadying as he held you close.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispered into the quiet of the room, his voice full of emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. “And I’m lucky to have you, Gyu. I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve achieved. But more than that, I’m just happy that you’re mine.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly. “Always yours,” he promised, his words a vow.

[katerinaaqu]

OH. MY. GOOOOOOOD! 🫣

🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

And that is LITERALLY without the slightest trace of exaggeration my first comment when I saw this to my watch messages! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

This the most fucking awesome thing I have ever seen! It so belongs to one of these Greek mythology lithograph books! ❤️✨️❤️✨️❤️

The tecniques are FAN-TASTIC! and the poses are absolutely DIVINE!

☀️ 🌙

Oh gosh they so fit the role literally I see Apollo and Artemis together ready to fuck everyone up and go for afternoon tea! Jaoral looks so ready to fight and Akule the show off majestic guy! 🪷 God even the details on their bows 😍💗���� they look like they are having shapes of their elements and animal bones (kinda like that Odyssey mini series) and they look literally ready to SMITE the infidel and blasphemous! 😆

Even the detail that they have their cloaks clasped on opposite shoulders! 💎✨️ and even the origin story fits! Like sun and moon rise from an underworld God! Hahahahaha oh gosh 🪷

That's @artsofmetamoor for ya guys! She knows no chill in awesomeness!

Mythology AU ✨

Jaoral and Akule, the Moon and Sun siblings 🌙☀️ Children of Ballard the God and guardian of the Underworld and Cornelia the Goddess of nature and Earth.

Don't have my Wacom for the next week so I'm relying on traditional sketching for now 🫣

[lesamis]

1810s dashboard but it's niche drama

💛 heartofanna Following

imagine cancelling someone for saying war is bad

🧵 sharethewoe Follow

#didn't expect better from w*rdsworth but some people i rly thought i could count on…… #anyway we will live to see this empire fall. can't stop history lol (via @heartofanna)

speaking as someone who was press ganged at the age of 17 to serve in his majesty's royal navy i couldn't be more grateful for your poem. young men like me are cannon fodder and you spoke for so many of us. fuck napoleon but fuck parliament even more.

86 notes

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

stable forgiving virtuous flourishing in my lane definitely not buying poison moisturized unbothered never been better

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

me when i lie

179302 notes

🏛 mynoseisfine Follow

Settling this once and for all. What does the public actually think about the Parthenon marbles debate:

🦉 realminerva Follow

lol i know it’s you lord elgin

🦉 realminerva Follow

like we joke and all but fully aside from the fact that removing the sculptures from greek soil was vulturine and opportunistic etc, it’s really just the tip of a frankly gigantic mountain of imperialist bullshit. let’s not pretend we haven’t been brutally killing hundreds who resisted oppression in india, LITERALLY BOMBED A NEUTRAL EUROPEAN CAPITAL, and embarrassed ourselves in the charge against napoleon for years now. pathetic ass empire & evil as hell to boot. @mynoseisfine the greeks who carved your marbles millennia ago would kick your tory ass so hard

3661 notes

🎀 emmawoodhousestan Follow

how do i still keep seeing thomas chatterton's final post being reblogged, wtf is wrong with you freaks??? he was seventeen it was tragic and horrible and happened ages ago. he was a kid just let him rest

294 notes

🍎 masque-off Following

callout post for @castleyeah @lordsidmouth @officialcoe @parliamentofficial: they oppress, murder and famish the british working people & also suck majorly

⛪ castleyeah Follow

sour cuz you’re unfit to have custody of your own kids huh

🍎 masque-off Following

proud to be the dad of a newborn who could already rend your pudding spine asunder with a mere glance

187 notes

🦆 mallardturner Following

finished this today 😊

44 notes

😎 chadeharold Follow

why is it always “you’re risking your life and legacy & will get yourself killed before the age of five and twenty” and never how was swimming the hellespont the hellespont looked fun was it fun

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

ohhh my god you swam the hellespont five years ago?? wooow should we tell everyone?? should we throw a party?? should we invite famous hero of greek myth leander who swam the hellespont

😎 chadeharold Follow

@loved-joanna look we never had any beef & don’t have to start this now. it’s cool that you’re sticking up for my ex, you guys were friends first, but just know that i’ve always trusted your opinion on my work & genuinely respect and admire you & would still be up for a collab whenever.

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

yea sure why don’t your lips collab with my ass

😎 chadeharold Follow

on it boss

1009 notes

#literally call me. down if you are

🍂 endymion Follow

sorry is it me or is the assassin who stabbed german bootleg wordsworth kinda…… 🥵

💄 biprincesscharlotte Mutuals

JOHN KEATS????????

2427 notes

#i'm p sure this is the author of lamia thirstposting on main??? help

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

romanticism this romanticism that why don’t you romanticise universal suffrage and rights for labouring people

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

anyone else in jail for seditious libel

🏹 axelaidtotheroot Mutuals

lmao i'm one of the “anyone else”s and i know you’re enjoying family visits and apparently some kind of cushy armchair situation, plus tons of books. try being in here as a spencean dude they won’t even let me learn how to write. worst of all some evangelical came by yesterday just to proselytize & put me “on the right path” fml

8341 notes

🗻 mounttambora Follow

y'all i don't feel so good :/

59 notes

[okiedokrie]

All Is Fair In Love And War (TEASER)

Summary: Joshua is nothing if not determined. If he wants something, he'll get it; not that he even had to try before. But sometimes, like Icarus, he flies a little too close to the sun. But hey, all is fair in love and war!

Characters/Pairing: Aphrodite Incarnation!Joshua x Fem!Detective!Very Mortal!Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, crack, angst if you really squint

AUs/Trope Info: Greek God!AU, Partners In Solving Crimes, Strangers to Lovers, "time isnt linear" trope, "holy shit im kind of obsessed with you" trope

Word Count: 900+ for the teaser, est. 10k≤ for the full fic

Warnings: Depiction of a crime scene (gore, blood, gun, conspiracy), depiction of drug use, character death (major and minor), smut warnings under the cut when full fic is uploaded

Rating: 18+

A/N: This is part of the The 13 Gods of Olympus: A Seventeen collab hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions! This is just the teaser, so if you enjoy it, please consider signing up for the taglist. Thank you!!

In the summer of 2000, Joshua Hong was almost five years old. People always commented on how pretty he was for a kid, that he’d surely grow up to be a very handsome man. 

Which is why it was a tragedy when he died from a freak truck accident.

Yes, Joshua Hong died at the age of five. For like, 10 minutes.

The doctors called it a miracle - a small child should not have survived a whole six of the twelve truck wheels, but somehow he was resuscitated, much to his parents’ delight.

This incident caused two things to change dramatically - Californetherlands now has stricter trucking laws and Joshua woke up to memories of literally being Aphrodite.

Throughout the years, from that fateful summer day to the present day, Joshua flopped back and forth between believing that the memories were just fever dreams and genuinely considering that he may be a reincarnation of the goddess. But ever since he got to hone his powers, he’s been more inclined to believe the latter.

By the age of  28, he has mastered the art of seduction. No, not sleeping with people constantly. It was more so the art of getting people to say ‘yes’ to everything he asked of them.

This made Joshua a very powerful and influential figure in Los Amsterdam; You see, the way he dealt wasn’t by out-witting people or being richer than them. He dealt in favors. If you wanted to be a popstar, he’d introduce you to a famous producer, and get you a record deal that would solidify your career - all for the low, low price of free.

In turn,  you’d owe him, like the many powerful people who owed him large favors.

Joshua found himself in downtown LA, in the club that he owned, just under his penthouse. He enjoyed playing the guitar and performing for his patrons, everyone seemingly captivated by his voice, or his beauty, whichever one caught their attention first. He finally strummed the last chord of his song, enjoying the applause of the crowd as the DJ started to play the usual club music. Just as he was about to retreat to the bar, a feminine voice stopped him.

“Joshua! Hey!” She said, hair bouncing over her new fur coat, jumping excitedly, calling him over.

Joshua smiled widely at her - she was one of the people he had helped start her career as a singer. He didn’t do much other than introduce her to the CEO of her current label, it was her natural talent that got her this far.

“Ah, Diana, good to see you!” He said, going over to meet her in a friendly hug, the kind that didn’t touch at all. “How has being a singer treated you? Any good news?” He said, making small talk with an old acquaintance.

“Oh please,” she started, her new haughty attitude showing, “It’s all over the news! I just got nominated for a Grammy!” She said in a sing-song tone. Joshua just nodded Truth be told, he didn’t really have much interest in pop music, but he did try to match her enthusiasm.

“That’s great! I knew you’d make it big.” he said, remembering the first time she came to him, a girl in clothes that almost looked like rags, now decked out in every designer brand you could think of. “So, what brings you back here then? Surely you already have everything you ever wanted?” He said lightheartedly. Even if all of Joshua’s connections owed him favors, it was quite uncommon for them to come back to him after having achieved their dreams.

“Well,” She said, her old, meek bashfulness coming to the surface. “I just wanted to see you again, to thank you for what you have done for me.” She tucked a hair behind her ear. “And I know no matter what favor I do for you in return, I could never break even for just how much you’ve impacted my life. So, thank you, Joshua.”

Joshua genuinely felt relieved to hear her say that - usually, people’s pride and greed got in the way of them acknowledging those who truly helped them along the way, but as he suspected, this girl still had a soul so pure. “Let's get some drinks by the bar and chat some more, yeah? My treat.” He offered, which she gladly took, the conversation between them flowed naturally, Joshua enjoying her tales of success.

It was an hour after the club closed that Diana decided it was time to head home. Joshua offered to see her off, like the gentleman he was, and so they walked to the sidewalk, her hand around his arm.

Joshua opened the taxi door for her, offering her a few bills in cash to cover the fare, “It was nice seeing you again, hopefully, you’ll make time to catch up with me in the future.” he said through the taxi window.

“Yeah, I hope I get the chance to see you again soon. Goodnight Joshua.” She said as she rolled up the taxi window.

Joshua watched the taxi drive until the end of the block, everything seemingly going smoothly, up until another car intercepted hers in the intersection.

It happened so quickly, too quickly for  Joshua to even register the new car’s window sliding down, holding a gun out to the taxi Diana was in. Gunshots echoed through the street, the sound of tires popping and glass shattering but all Joshua could make out was the sound of two sets of four tires screeching against the concrete. Diana’s taxi collided with a nearby lamppost, the taxi flattening and curling around it.

That was the last time Joshua saw her alive.

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[anothermansjeans]

youtube reader doing spencer’s makeup for a video? mgg has super long lashes and i just need to put some mascara on them 😭😭 i’m loving youtube reader they’re dynamic with spencer is so fun

THANK YOU I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THIS IS NO JOKE

cw: spencer wearing makeup, spencer is basically reader's bitch (affectionate)

wc: 623

youtuber!reader masterlist

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“And you’re sure you wanna do this?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

You swore you fell in love with Spencer even more every day. “Because some men have toxic masculinity and wouldn't let their girlfriends put makeup on them?”

“Well, those men don't have IQs as high as mine.”

You laughed and dabbed a blob of foundation on your hand, preparing to use the beauty sponge to blend it onto Spencer’s face. “Well thank God for that. I had to buy a whole new shade for you. Wouldn't want my money to go to waste.”

As you began blending, Spence flinched the tiniest bit at the cold substance. You were sure the camera was picking it up. He was a lot quieter than usual, and you had to comment on it. “Is everything okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“You're not talking… you're a certified yapper, Spence.”

“Hey!” Alas, his first words in five minutes were spoken.

“I’m not wrong,” your words were mumbled, but he heard them. “Sorry, sorry. Would you tell me why you’re not speaking, though?”

“I don't want to mess up your hard work.”

Again, you fell in love just a little bit more. “You won't mess anything up, Spencer.” You placed the sponge down and grabbed onto one of his hands. “Please talk as much as you want. The people are going to be here for you and your wisdom, babe.”

Even under the thin layer of foundation, you could see the hint of a blush appear on his cheeks. “Okay… did you know the word ‘cosmetic’ has a Greek origin, and was derived from the word ‘kosmos’, which means to adorn or arrange. The magazine, Cosmopolitan also has this same root.”

You smiled at the fact and continued with the routine. You got through the contour, blush, highlight, and eyeshadow, finally moving onto the mascara. “Okay, Spence, I’m going to put this wand near your eyelashes and I just need you to blink for me.” He did as he was told, and you couldn't keep your jealousy contained. “I'm so mad at you for your eyelashes.”

“What did they do?”

“They're so long!” You huffed and he chuckled. “It’s not fair. You do absolutely nothing to them and they're so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” you mumbled out your response, finishing up his other eye before putting the mascara down and digging through the lipstick options. “We should do a liquid lip.”

“Liquid lip?”

“Yep! It won't transfer once it dries.”

“Did you know that the first lipstick appeared in ancient Mesopotamia approximately 4,000 years ago when women decorated their lips with the dust that was made of precious gems?”

“Thank God they stopped using precious gems or I wouldn't be able to afford the tens of lipsticks I have,” you quickly looked up at him, giving him a smile before finding the perfect shade for him. “Here we go! Now, I need you to not talk when I do this.” He gave a nod and allowed you to put it on. “Give it a minute to dry.”

You fanned his lips, and once you deemed it appropriately dry, you smiled and grabbed his face with one of your hands, causing his lips to pucker. “All good! See?” You pushed your lips together, giving him a big smooch in front of the camera. When you released him, you turned your face to the camera, showing your lips before turning back to him. “It didn't transfer!” He could only nod, shocked from the sudden affection, and you laughed as you ran your fingers through his hair. “You really are a pretty boy.”

You shared a chuckle and finished up the video. You were so lucky to have your pretty boy.

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: i want a pretty boy :(

@ user1: what if i stole your man's eyelashes... then what?

@ user2: can he do a collab with the calm app? ma'am i would pay good money for that but you get it FOR FREE

@ user3: TELLING HIM TO START TALKING?? I LOVE YOU GUYS

@ user4: brb sleeping on the freeway tonight

@ user5: THE KISS?? THE KISS!!!

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youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!