Blood Smells Like Daffodils

Blood Smells Like Daffodils

  • WpView
    Reads 1,274
  • WpVote
    Votes 165
  • WpPart
    Parts 22
WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Tue, Feb 17, 20261h 30m
In a world where medicine fails, and hope becomes cruel, some people still believe there is one last place to turn. When Cirrus's life hangs between staying and leaving, Phugun chooses a miracle- not knowing miracles always come with a cost. --- This is an alternate universe of Cirrus and Phugun from The Boys Next World, where mystical belief still exists for those who seems to have already lost all hope. A story about love that cannot be forced, choices made in silence, and a flower that blooms where it never should. --- Author's note: This is my first time writing fanfiction. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammatical mistakes. Thank you for reading
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Chairman Of My Heart
  • My heart always belonged to you
  • love of Mafia
  • Lost
  • Between Sin and Tomorrow
  • ❤️ LOVE WITH FIRE 🔥 ( PayuRain ) ( PrapaiSky )
  • The Way I Love You [PAYURAIN VER]🌪️🌧️
  • Love beyond boundaries
  • You make me feel alive
  • Heart beats again

At Inara Agency, image is the only currency that matters. **Boss Chaikamon** is the architect of that image a ruthless CEO known for his surgical precision and a heart of ice. He doesn't believe in talent he believes in results. **Noeul Nuttarat** is his greatest result. A top-tier influencer with a mind for business and a backbone of steel, Noeul refuses to be just another "pretty face" in a campaign. He negotiates his own contracts, challenges the board of directors, and is the only person in the building who dares to look the CEO in the eye and say no. When a high-stakes fragrance campaign falls apart, Boss does the unthinkable he steps out from behind the desk and into the frame. But as the cameras roll and the professional distance vanishes, the lines between branding and desire begin to blur. In a world of scripts, filters, and forced smiles, can the architect and his muse find something real or will the pressure of the Inara Standard crush them both?

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines