#Over the Garden Wall Soulful Symphonies

[joemerl]

I'm sorry, you think what is similar to huh?!

[watsondcsj]

Today's Chores, Homework, and Fortnite comic book recommendation is Over the Garden Wall: Soulful Symphonies by Birdie Willis and Rowan MacColl

[xovera-toz]

The rest of the poem is even better so go read the 2015 comics. Shoo.

[annainthewoods]

a cute and unique copy of soulful symphonies #1 with a pat mchale sketch and autograph. it's listed for 300 usd on ebay.

[skenisasleb]

just read soulful symphonies

teared up reading it 😢

[honeyed-hedonist]

Parings: Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 2.2k Summary: You and Jason spend some quality time together on a balmy summer night amongst the flora and fauna. Things quickly heat up, as they so often do when the two of you are together. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. fingering, foul language, Jason being stupidly strong and handsome and hot and hshsaksjfkhf!! A/N: Hi hello! Since my old blog got deleted (I'm still not over it. Ten+ years of work and building up a following gone down the drain), I've decided to start reposting my old stuff here. This one used to be called Sweet Bitter, but I decided to change the name. ENJOY!

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

There’s something about the way the moonlight casts a silvery glow to your eyes, how it turns your dewy skin a pearlescent shade of indigo, that has Jason punch drunk, lips parted in silent awe while he watches you take in the scenery. You look ethereal, a goddess come down from heaven to fill the cracks in his soul with liquid gold until he’s overflowing—and fuck, he’s never been more in love with you than he is right now. 

The midnight air is ripe with honeyed blossoms and earthy moss, a symphony of buzzing cicadas fills the silence as a balmy breeze tousles a few loose strands of your hair around your face. It has him reaching out to tuck them behind your ear, pulling your focus from the lush greenery around you to his glittering blue eyes instead. 

Jason gives you a lazy grin, the kind that makes your stomach flutter, fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw before he settles back on his elbows across the blanket and your gaze lifts skyward. You’ve never seen so many stars before—the light pollution in Gotham almost blots out the moon most nights, and you want to commit this view to memory, to remember every twinkling ball of starlight scattered across the charcoal sky.

“How’d you find this place?” You murmur softly, fingers curling around the hem of your sundress, picking at the edge idly.

“Ivy owed me a favor.” Jason answers, laughing when your head whips around to look at him. 

“This is Poison Ivy’s garden?” You hiss, eyebrows knitted together, and he laughs harder, his palm cupping your knee as he gives you a gentle shake. 

“Relax, baby,” he teases, laughter still bubbling up in his throat. It makes his voice a little raspier, a little more gruff, and with it your pulse spikes, because goddamn if little things like that don’t turn you to mush. “There’s nothing poisonous here, I promise.” 

You give him a skeptical look, but it quickly melts away into a smile that makes Jason’s throat tight with emotion. Yeah, he’s in deep, tilting back a swig of his beer in hopes that it’ll hide the heat that’s coloring his cheeks rosy. It doesn’t, your smile turning cheshire when you snatch the bottle from his hands and neck back what’s left. 

His face turns sour, glaring at you while he folds those thick arms across his chest, his t-shirt struggling to contain the sheer mass of him, the cotton stretched to its limit. The sight has your cheeks warming, mouth going dry, because it should be fucking illegal to look like that.  “I was drinking that, brat.” Jason chides, and you answer with a flick of your tongue past your lips, blowing a raspberry at him. 

“Sucks to suck, I guess.” You retort, lifting your eyes back towards the sky, the distraction providing a perfect opportunity for him to wrap those massive hands around your waist and haul you onto his lap. 

It’s no surprise to anyone that Jason is strong, he’s built like a brick shithouse—an absolute unit of a man from head to toe, and yet it still catches you off guard every single time he flaunts that strength. Like all of those early mornings when he’s just gotten home from patrol while you’re getting ready for work and he can’t help but lift you into his arms to fuck you in the shower, or those hazy nights when you’ve both had one too many and he’s got you folded in half against the brick wall of an alley, one hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds you make while he turns you inside out with the slow drag of his cock. 

Your reaction is always the same though, an excitable giggle slipping out from behind your teeth as your hands settle on his shoulders, only this time your legs are spread open to accommodate the width of his stocky thighs. You bite your lip, and Jason’s bravado slips, if only for a moment, as his eyes track the movement, blood immediately rushing to his dick and—shit, why the fuck did he wear jeans tonight?

“Wanna say that again?” He goads, cocking his head to the side, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips until you squeal, wriggling around on his lap in an attempt to flee. “Nuh uh, you’re goin’ nowhere, baby.” Jason taunts you, his arms locking around your back, pulling you in until you’re chest to chest. 

It’s a wonder, he thinks, gazing at you through hooded eyes, how he ever manages to keep his hands off of you in the first place, how the two of you even make it out of your bedroom. Someone should give him a goddamn medal or something, because it takes more self control than he’s used to practicing—resisting the urge he has to tear your shit up every minute of every day.

And that’s without mentioning how you look tonight, sprawled out on top of him in that little scrap of fabric you call a sundress, the hem riding up the tops of your buttery thighs, exposing the barest hint of your core, pussy lips peeking out from behind those lacy panties you’re sporting—taunting him, begging for the kind of attention he’s all too happy to supply. 

You let your hands roam, gliding across the tops of his shoulders and around to the back of his neck, fingertips snaking up through his hair, the longer pieces curling in the sticky, nighttime summer heat. “You got that much right, at least.” You tell him, because even though you’re more composed about it, you’re still just as lovesick as he is. 

“Sweet talkin’ me isn’t gonna make me forget your little comment,” Jason muses, palms dragging up the outsides of your thighs until his fingers disappear beneath the skirt of your dress, thumbs rubbing heated circles into the skin, “but I’ll let you make it until we get home.”

A promise for later. 

His hands travel higher still, dipping under the lace stretched thinly at the apex of your thighs. He drags them inward, tugging the sodden material away from your slit, the rough pads of his fingertips tracing the crease where your legs meet your cunt. You keep your eyes fixed on his, hiccuping a soft breath in because you know exactly what he’s thinking when he leans in, nose skimming across your jaw and up until his breath is cooling against the shell of your ear.

“Wore this thing just to torture me, didn’t you? Been flashing me these pretty little panties all night. Think you’re so clever, hm?” You puff out a shaky breath, nodding softly, your hair tickling Jason’s face. “Shame m’gonna ruin ‘em.” His fingers curl and pull, ripping at the delicate lace until it tears apart and he pulls them clean off in one fell swoop, another pair of your underwear now lost to his impatience and show-boating.

Jason lets his tongue trace over your cartilage, teeth nipping at your earlobe until you shiver, a soft whimper forcing its way out of your mouth. “So proud of yourself, aren’t you? Got me all worked up—you and that smart fuckin’ mouth in this tiny fuckin’ dress. Know what m’gonna do now, baby?”

He cups your pussy and gives it a firm squeeze, pleased as punch when his palm is met with the oozing slick of your arousal, free hand trailing up your spine until he’s cradling the back of your head. It almost feels loving, and then he tightens that hand into a fist, tangling your hair as he yanks your head backwards, exposing the column of your throat to his eager mouth. 

Plush lips latch onto your dewy skin until the blood vessels rupture while Jason runs his first two fingers over your slit, spreading you open, groaning at the heat he finds there. He knows exactly what it feels like to be swamped by that heat, wrapped up in molten velvet, and he ruts his hips up into you, cock straining beneath denim, the zipper catching on his sensitive head until he rips himself away to hiss. 

“Gotta get you ready, yeah? Gonna fuck you dumb when we get home, princess. Fill you so full’a my cum that it’ll be leakin’ outta you ‘til tomorrow night.” Your answering moan makes him feral, growling as he hauls your mouth down to meet his in a kiss that’s wet and messy, no desire at all to make it pretty or sweet, and that suits you just fine.

Finally, Jason lets his fingers dredge through your folds, swiping over your clit, down to your hungry little hole, and back up—teasing you, feeling the way your sensitive pearl pulses under his touch. Sucking your tongue into his mouth, he groans, drunk off the taste of you, sweet as honeydew with a hint of bitter from the beer you stole. He hooks two digits inside you, swallowing the sound you make—shell shocked and breathy while he works you open until his palm is flat against your mons. 

He keeps them there, deeply seated, and curls them against your gummy walls while your fingernails dig harshly into the meat of his biceps and you squeal. It’s too much—a sensory overload, barely any effort at all and you’re already wound so fucking tight, amazed by how quickly Jason can make you sprung. “Mhm,” he murmurs against your kiss swollen lips, hazy eyes bouncing between yours, “that’s my girl, lemme hear you. Know it feels good, baby, gonna make it all better just—fuck—just sit still for me, hm?”

Lust-drunk, you nod frantically, whining low in your throat as Jason begins to fuck you with his fingers, opening you up for a third that has you bouncing softly on his lap. Christ, he’s never seen you quite like this—so wild and free, wanton cries of pleasure drowning out the consonance of buzzing from the fireflies that flit through the air around you.

“Jay,” you pant, arching into him, pretty tits perched right in his face, nipples pebbled and peeking through the thin material of your dress, “fuck, s’good. Please—wan’ cum.” He bends forward to tongue at your tits, teeth catching on those perked little nubs, lavishing them with the attention they’re sorely missing. It makes your thighs quiver, his thumb joining in his efforts to shatter you right here and now, flicking tight and hard against your clit.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me, make it nice an’ messy.” He coos, the tone of his voice is almost mocking, but you’re far too lost in your pleasure to care. You’ll worry about what this means for the rest of your night later, right now all you care about is chasing the release that’s rising quickly and you to meet it.

The wet squelch of you pussy is music to Jason’s ears, his forearm burning from his efforts, fucking into you at a brutal pace while your walls flutter deliciously around his fingers. Leaning back a little, he untangles his hand from your hair and grips your jaw hard enough that it pulls your focus and you wince. “Eyes on me, baby.” He commands, desperate to watch the way you crumble for him—only for him.

Your orgasm crests and then crashes, rocketing you into bliss so sharp that you see stars, an imprint of the very same sky you were just gazing at not twenty minutes ago, your entire body quaking as he corrals you by your hip, anchors you flat atop his thighs while he works you through it. He can feel your cum rolling down his wrist, cooing and praising you with sweet words as he kitten licks the sweat gathered above your lips, across your chin, salty and earthy. 

“Good fuckin’ girl. Cum so hard for me, look so goddamn beautiful, princess.” He murmurs, biting at the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet while you ride out the final waves of pleasure, flexing out your fingers from where they were wedged into his arms. 

Jason gives you a moment to breathe, gentle when he slips his fingers free from your swollen, gushy core. Bringing them up to his mouth, his tongue laps at the pearly droplets running down his arm, fingers webbed with your glistening release that he suckles greedily with a lascivious moan. The sound travels straight to your overworked clit, a gentle thrumming already starting up again as he cocks a brow at you and smirks, like he just knows.

“Better get you home, huh? Don’t think Ivy would take too kindly to us defiling her garden more than we already did.” You sock him square on his chest, and he laughs, pulling you close for another kiss that you smile into, cupping his face in your hands.

“Good idea,” You answer, the tip of your nose brushing his. “Apparently I have some apologizing to do. Sensitive little baby Jason Todd can’t handle a little ribbing.” 

His smile widens, not bothering to call you on your jibe. “Damn right you do,” he says, lifting you off of his lap to start gathering your things. When he stands, he offers you his hand, and you slip your fingers between his—still damp from your pussy.  Glancing down at you, Jason runs his tongue over his teeth and grins again, pulling you towards the path that leads out of the garden. “Plus you own me a beer.”

[wordsvomit101]

That awkward moment when you realized that your big bro got laid with the person you tried to kill.

Author Notes: Credits to @eternal_auditor & @jazeswhbhaven, I got this idea for this shameless worldbuilding headcanons for Heaven and Angels thanks to both of them and the latter's "Angel Bros Headcanons: Michael Flips" post. I also just want to write the scenario in general. Warnings: Raphael is a caution flag himself, depictions of violence, thoughts of brutalizing and eating someone (being directed at MC) by Raphael, a lot of name-calling from Raphael directed at MC

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(Heaven - Time of Councils and Assemblies)

In the tranquil embrace of Heaven, evening descends like a gentle caress, casting a soft golden hue upon the timeless realm. As the radiant sun dips below the horizon of ethereal clouds, the celestial landscape is bathed in hues of pink, orange, and purple, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colors that stretches across the vast expanse of the heavenly domain. The sky is like a canvas painted lovingly by the hands of God, with the colors of a thousand sunsets, each stroke a masterpiece of divine artistry. The clouds, like celestial brushstrokes, dance across the canvas, their forms ever-changing, their edges illuminated with an ethereal glow.

Amidst the celestial splendor, angelic beings gracefully glide through the sky upon the archways of purest gold span the thoroughfares of Heaven, their graceful curves reminiscent of angelic wings in flight. Beneath these archways lie crystal atriums, their transparent walls revealing the celestial wonders of Heaven in all their resplendent glory. Their iridescent wings shimmer with divine light, flying gracefully as if they dance and pirouette in ethereal ballets, painting radiant trails of luminescence across the sky.

The lower-ranking angels engage in celestial chorales, their melodious voices intertwining in harmonies that resonate throughout the Heaven. The soaring soprano of archangels blends seamlessly with the velvety alto of cherubim, weaving a symphony that would uplift the soul and transport the listener to realms of pure bliss. The music reverberates through the celestial expanse, like a cosmic symphony conducted to worship the Almighty.

For middle-ranking angels, their beloved duty during the Pilgrimage to the Mount of Revelation to commune with their dear creator has to be despairingly pushed to merely Contemplation of Sacred Texts and attending to the Halls of Eternal Wisdom, a lesser, but an honorable duty nonetheless.

Even higher above, amidst ethereal spires and resplendent palaces that grace the heavenly expanse, angelic artisans toil diligently within the Halls of Artistry. Their deft hands sculpt magnificent statues and weave intricate tapestries, each a testament to the wonders of creation. They yearn for the day when their divine creator will bestow upon them a glimpse of their artistry, even a millisecond of recognition for their unwavering dedication to him would be more than enough.

While other angels tend to the flourishing celestial flora in the Gardens of Eternal Bliss. Radiant blooms burst forth in a splendor of colors, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. The angels nurture these heavenly gardens with love and care, a single damage to a petal of these beautiful flowers is enough to have their heads roll to the disgusting pit of Hell, however making a mistake in God's favorite garden is an even bigger sin.

It is a mundane day for all of them.

Bang!

"Sir-!"

Creak!

"AAAAAA-!"

Crunch!

"I have yet to finish my prayer-!"

Snap!

However, it wouldn't be a normal day if there wasn't a Raphael brutally tearing and eating fleshes of every angel on his path to the Chamber of Divine Counsel to meet with other Seraphs. His blood-caked shoes thundering over polished marble as he swaggers through the vaulted corridors of Heaven, his crimson-smeared wings unfurling like banners of carnage. Red marred his short blonde hair and white attire. With each wrathful step, he leaves a trail of dismembered angel carcasses, their alabaster feathers floating like ethereal snowflakes in his wake. His crimson eye fully emits an aura of violence and fury.

Thump!

Bursting into the Chamber of Divine Counsel with enough force to make the office tremble, the room was bathed in an ethereal glow, and the other Seraphs present, Gabriel and Michael, sat in their resplendent chairs, their expressions inscrutable. Raphael's form, however, drenched in the gore of his victims, stood in stark contrast to the pristine surroundings. He only has one thought of personally feasting upon that purple hair wench's flesh when she is still alive and making her watch herself being devoured alive and cut off her tongue so she couldn't even voice out her pain.

"Why... Why is it always her...! That bitch!"

The pure white chairs, crafted from the finest celestial ivory, bore the brunt of his rage, splintering and crumbling under his kicks. Yet Gabriel and Michael, their faces devoid of emotion, paid him little attention.

"If you insist on throwing a tantrum, I implore you to do so in a realm more suited to such sorrowful displays. Hell would accommodate your temperaments more appropriately."

Michael stood tall over the intricately designed long table with a mindmap and countless brainstorming notes. Standing in a place Brother Lucifer used to stand in each council meeting. His glare locked on the furious blonde seraph before him. A frown, as if carved in stone, creased his handsome face, adding an air of solemnity to his prideful demeanor. Around his neck, a regal purple choker, embellished with ornate gold rings and shimmering gemstones, encircled his throat. At its center, a prominent gold ring held a solemn cross pendant, its gentle clinking accompanying his every movement.

In a swift motion, Michael tilted his head to the left, displaying effortless grace as he dodged the flying chair hurtling towards him at high speed. The chair collided with the wall, its impact leaving a deep dent in the panel, a testament to the force behind the throw.

"Shut that shitty mouth of yours! Maybe try to go down there yourself to ask why our dear brother is entertaining trash!" As Raphael spoke, his voice trembled with anger and frustration, his words dripping with venomous accusation. A few veins already popped on his crazed, striking appearance. Filled with unrepressed anger that led him to kill his spies who reported to him and fly from the dungeon up here.

Yet Michael continued to look at his notes, his face blissfully indifferent. His right hand continued to write on many of his papers on the white table.

"He has simply strayed from the right path."

Brother Lucifer’s footstep-less feet headed for the vile tiny red devil.

'Stop it.'

However, he couldn't say the same about his head. Memories he had been trying to wipe from his mind for years served only to haunt him. Taunting him of the gut-wrenching event more than a hundred years ago.

In the silence, pure white hands pushed through the grass and preciously held up the rotten red thing.

'Don't dirty your hands.'

His brother stroked that thing's body so softly with his hands so similar to how he once did with Michael's face. Those strong, beautiful hands that once held his face so tenderly to wipe his tears away. As he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

'Brother...'

"I remain confident in my ability to guide him back to the right path." 

His brother's hand was holding Michael’s ray of light. The light in Brother Lucifer’s hand had stopped in front of the disgusting beast's chest, unable to advance further. He was again protecting worthless things that didn't deserve his grace.

'Why did you save it?!'

When his brother finally stood before Michael on his third step, black energy, not white, began to flow from his body.

'No-NononononoNONO-'

From his beloved brother’s head, the gorgeous head of the Morning Star, bright red horns that were the same color as the vile thing that tempted him began to grow.

'Brother- Brother Lucifer please!'

"You shall witness it in due time."

"I love you, my brother. Which is why I will give you one last chance. Return."

Crack!

The force of Michael's left hand left a massive crack in the opulent crystal marble table that trailed down to the other end of it. Effectively bringing clarity back to Raphael as the blonde gazes at Michael's hard knuckle gripping the table painfully, ignoring the blood pooling down to the marble floor and further dirtying the former pristine chamber.

Michael's abrupt actions were met with an air of knowing silence from the two. It wouldn't be far-fetched if they possessed a secret understanding of his motivations that would elude outsiders.

"Hmph," a scoff rang out and pierced the silence of the room, originating from the slender man with platinum blonde hair seated to Michael's right. His face, though classically handsome with a pale complexion, remained stoic and emotionless, belying the arrogance that dripped from the single syllable he uttered.

"Then you better live up to those words."

Gabriel's lean was a graceful movement, his body sinking into the chair as if it were a throne. His arms crossed over his chest, the crisp white of his shirt contrasting sharply with the gleam of the gold chain that adorned his white jabot ruffle shirt. The fabric of his sleeves rustled softly against the delicate filigree, creating a symphony of subtle sounds that echoed through the silent room. His eyes, deep and enigmatic, surveyed the scene before him, his expression a mixture of amusement and quiet contemplation.

"Furthermore, even in his current state, Brother Lucifer still demonstrates a reverence for God. It is conceivable that his actions are merely a symptom of his yearning for God's divine presence."

In this timeless realm, where Gabriel proudly proclaims to reign supreme as the epitome of seraphic obedience, there exists but one for whom he would willingly surrender his esteemed position: Brother Lucifer. The firstborn of God's creations, Brother Lucifer's devotion to his Maker surpassed all others, earning him the title of Morning Star. His brilliance illuminated the heavens, casting an unrivaled radiance that even Gabriel's wings could not obscure.

It was Brother Lucifer who instilled within the celestial choirs the rituals and observances that expressed their gratitude to the Almighty. Yet amidst his unwavering piety, Brother Lucifer adhered to a solitary discipline known only to himself. Only a select few had glimpsed this secret regimen, elusive even to those who had followed his every step for countless eons.

Solitary would not be said without Brother Lucifer's name being attached to the word. He found solace in his own construction of hallowed sanctuaries. These Majestic Temples of Worship at odd places in Heaven served as his solitary refuge, where he could commune with the divine without the distractions of others. His devotion ignited a spark in other angels, who, inspired by his example, crafted Halls of Artistry. They sculpted countless colossal statues of the Almighty, their grandeur exceeding the limits of mortal imagination.

No one dared step one foot into his havens, they were for Brother Lucifer alone, and death would be upon those who broke that unspoken rule.

Yet there were times he allowed Gabriel to join him during Celestial Meditation in the secluded Garden of Eternal Reflection, a sacred sanctuary hidden deep within the heart of Heaven. Here, amidst the fragrant blossoms and tranquil pools, Brother Lucifer let Gabriel join his silent meditation and prayers. It was one of the highlights of Gabriel's day when his brother was still around.

"Not if he is messing with the descendant of Solomon."

Raphael's voice now had the former rage in it that reminded him of what he came here for, to be in these two insufferable presences. He could barely believe it when one of his spies uttered those words out of their useless mouth. That Lucifer? The Morning Star? His brother who despises Solomon as much as any other angel and the one that would bite another head off if they recklessly touched him even in the rendezvous night at the sacred Eternal Flame at the heart of Heaven where they allowed themselves to let loose for a bit?

It sounds fucking unbelievable, but when they show him a picture of that purple-haired vixen bumping parts with his brother, it sends him off the reels. He kills most of the spies and storms out of his favorite dungeon to here.

"Pardon?" Michael's mismatched eyes bulged, his neck creaking and twitching as he stared up at Raphael in a frenzy of incomprehension, his falsely composed display gone. The mere hint of the truth was liable to send the black-haired Seraph into a rampage and murder them all.

"Are you suggesting..." Gabriel's face, previously etched in stoicism, crumbled into a mask of horror. He couldn't believe the words that had escaped Raphael's lips, but he couldn't shake the realization that was slowly creeping upon him. He desperately wished that the words that came out of Raphael's mouth were nothing more than a cruel jest, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

"I said, he's with the descendant of Solomon, that purple-haired harlot...that traitor....that cheat- That tempting trash!"

It pissed Raphael off even more as he raised his voice volume, veins now appearing on his throat, especially at the reminder of his text with that two-timer. The sheer self-satisfied energy radiating off his phone screen almost makes him fly down to Hell to choke that bitch until her brain pops out of her head himself.

"This is preposterous...impossible..." Michael's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with disbelief as Raphael's accusations cut through the air like a madman who had just been cheated on. His normally steady stance faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of hysteria that made his body tremble. He stumbled backward, his back colliding with the cold, unforgiving wall as if seeking solace from the onslaught of emotions that threatened to consume him. The wall provided no comfort, its smooth surface a stark contrast to the turmoil raging through his body.

"I'm not joking. I heard her talking about Lucifer, his scar, his... 'thing'," The mere mention of his beloved brother's private part sends shivers down his spine as his voice quivered. The thought of that conniving bitch taking full advantage of the trust Brother Lucifer had placed in her made his blood boil with simmering rage. And that she dared to go against her promise to him as if those moments they shared in the poisonous sky of Hell meant nothing.

"She knows his exact measurements!- You know what, look at this shit yourself!" With a resounding slam that echoed through the room like a thunderclap, he unveiled the damning evidence: a collection of photographs frozen in time, capturing moments of intimate interaction between Lucifer and the individual in question.

The images fell upon the table with a heavy thud, causing the fragile surface to tremble under the weight of their revelation. Despite the force of impact that threatened to shatter the fragile table beneath them, the pictures remained intact, their unspoken truth radiating from their glossy surfaces like a painful revelation begging to be acknowledged.

Michael's face contorted with a ghastly twitch as if he were attempting to conjure laughter, but the sound that escaped his lips was more akin to a hollow echo in the thick, suffocating atmosphere. "Shut up," his mind struggled to piece together the unthinkable truth that lay sprawled before him like a macabre revelation. Denial, a feeble shield against the onslaught of evidence, crumbled before the weight of reality, leaving him quaking.

"I swear before Thrones of Heavenly Majesty I will make her rue the day she even touched him. She corrupted him and brought him over to the side of temptation. God would never-" As Gabriel's solemn vow echoed through the room, the air crackled with the intensity of his conviction, thick with the gravity of impending retribution for the sinner.

His words struck a nerve, exacerbating Michael's fraying composure. The gravity of the situation bore down upon him like a suffocating weight, his anger bubbling to the surface in fervor.

"FUCKING SHUT UP! IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S NOT REAL!" Michael's voice cracked with anguish and insanity, his outburst sending shockwaves through the chamber. In his distress, the chamber was engulfed in an inferno, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the walls. In the distance, the echo of Michael's despair mingled with the desperate prayers and curses of those trapped within the blazing office. The once-orderly chamber had become a scene of utter chaos and destruction.

"O, Almighty Creator," Gabriel's voice trembled with urgency, his words a fervent entreaty to the absent God above. "Grant us clarity in this hour of darkness, illuminate our path with Your divine light."

Meanwhile, Gabriel's attempts at prayer offered little solace as he grappled with the implications of Raphael's revelations.

His murmurs grew more frantic with each passing moment, a desperate attempt to find solace in the face of unsettling truths. "Guide us through this tempest, O Lord, for we are adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Let Your wisdom be our compass, and Your mercy our salvation."

But despite his fervent appeals, only shrieks and flames answer back, echoing throughout Heaven from the burning chamber they're in.

"She said she'd only do that with me..." Raphael’s voice cracked with bitterness, each word laced with venomous resentment. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the seething anger threatening to consume him whole. "...she lied...she lied..."

The weight of betrayal hung heavy in his heart, suffocating him with its oppressive presence. Raphael's chest heaved with each labored breath, his heart aching with the sting of betrayal. "Fucking cheater..." His words dripped with venom, the bitterness of betrayal poisoning his soul.

With a primal snarl, Raphael's control shattered like glass, shards of rage cutting deep into his consciousness. He lashed out blindly, his teeth sinking into the flesh of a passing stupidly brave angel that came to check on the three Seraphs, the taste of blood a bitter reminder of his own foolishness.

"I hate her..." The words escaped his lips in a guttural growl, each syllable dripping with raw fury. His grip tightened around the angel's trembling form, nails digging into flesh as he sought to vent his pent-up rage on an unwitting victim.

"I'm not sloppy seconds..." Raphael's voice cracked with rage, his crimson eyes ablaze like a firestorm. He tore into the angel's flesh with savage ferocity, his actions a grotesque display of his inner turmoil. "...I'm no side bitch!"

Boom!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Hm?", in the dim recesses of his grandiose office, Lucifer, who was engrossed in his craftsmanship of carving the statue of the divine, lifted his gaze from his artistic endeavor by the sudden but subtle yet discernible disturbance in the island above the sky of Hell.

His pure white eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Despite the plaster and pigments that adorned his once-pristine garments save for his bloody back that had his broken wings. His form radiated a timeless beauty, marred only by the grim expression on his handsome visage.

The sensation he felt was like a creeping up from above, like a ripple in the placid waters of a celestial lake.

'What are those three getting angry at right now?'

Raon, who was perched upon the plush velvet couch that adorned his office, her tall form immersed in the pages of an ancient tome, looked up swiftly at Lucifer's voice, a rare occurrence after hours of silence.

Once she raised her gaze from the text, her curious eyes meeting Lucifer's form with silent inquiry. Normally, she would wait until Lucifer is willing to tell her what is on his mind, but currently, she is bored and needs a break after reading several magic grimoires Lucifer gave her and practicing with them for almost a whole day.

'Let's just hope he will at least give me a short answer.'

"Um, Lucifer, is there something wrong?" Raon's voice, soft and tentative, carried a note of concern as she awaited his response, her gaze fixed unwaveringly upon him.

Lucifer's answer was measured, his words carrying the weight of foreboding. "I feel there's a disturbance. There would be a storm soon," he left out the part that it was most likely his brothers being angry about something again.

"Is it related to the angels?" Yet the young woman still managed to catch onto the hidden message, her question not directed at ordinary angels but at his brothers as she nervously tightened her grip on her grimoire.

Lucifer nodded solemnly. "Very likely," he confirmed. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon but his voice relaxed to ease the lady's tension as he contemplated the unfolding events in the celestial realm.

"Oh, then I will get back to my training-", with a subtle shift of his form, he turned his attention back to Raon, his gaze meeting hers with a serene intensity as he stood up to clean himself with a swipe of his finger. He tidied himself with a cleaning spell and put his tools and statues back into their orderly places without doing so himself physically—a casual display of his magic that Raon wishes to get to one day.

"It's fine," Lucifer assured her, his tone gentle yet authoritative. "Let's take a rest. Care to join me for a walk to the observatory room?" Quietly, he held out his right arm for her to hold on to if she wanted to accompany him.

Raon's heart fluttered at the invitation, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to contain her excitement. "Really? I-I mean, of course! Please lead the way." Her words spilled forth in a rush of eagerness, her eyes shining with anticipation as she rose from her seat and she excitedly but carefully walked over to Lucifer's spot.

As Raon raised her gaze, a silent query lingering in her eyes, she studied the handsome devil's countenance for the slightest hint of unease. Finding none, she shyly reached out and clasped his arm, a silent agreement passing between them. Together, they embarked on a leisurely stroll, the pace unhurried yet purposeful.

Lucifer, typically swift in his movements, slowed his steps to accommodate Raon, pausing whenever she expressed a desire to linger and marvel at the exquisite white blossoms that adorned Paradise Lost, a sight reserved only for the privileged few. The air was filled with a sense of tranquility and reverence as they meandered through the garden, each step bringing them closer to their destination, yet allowing them to savor the beauty that surrounded them. Unbothered by the chaos that is currently exploding in Heaven.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Wedding Day Blues.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - i was watching ‘Sam and Billie the mummy diaries’ and it was the wedding episode so i decided to write something wedding inspired. 🤷‍♀️

word count - 2.4k

in which, it’s your and your fiancés wedding day, getting married in the garden of your shared italian villa, surrounded by your close friends and loved ones, but you can’t help but let the nerves get to you.

Today was meant to be a day that you will never forget.

You and your fiancé had been engaged for a total of two years and today was the day the two of you would be tying the knot.

As you stand in the guest bedroom of your enchanting Italian villa, the soft morning sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm glow on the elegantly adorned room. The walls, painted in serene pastel hues, echo the timeless romance that fills the air on this momentous day. The delicate lace curtains sway gently, as if whispering secrets of love and anticipation.

Gazing outside, your heart swells with emotion as you witness the scene unfolding before you. The garden, a verdant paradise, is transformed into a sanctuary of love and celebration. Rows of pristine white chairs are meticulously arranged, each one a seat for a cherished guest, their faces alive with joy and excitement.

Your eyes are drawn to the majestic archway adorned with intertwined blooms and foliage, an emblem of unity and devotion. Beneath it, you and your beloved will stand, surrounded by the fragrant embrace of nature, ready to exchange vows that will bind your hearts eternally.

In the midst of this exquisite scene, workers bustle with quiet dedication, ensuring that every detail is perfect. The flowers, vibrant and fragrant, are arranged flawlessly. The soft, melodic hum of their preparations blends harmoniously with the rustling leaves and distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of anticipation.

As you stand there, dressed in a gown that embodies your dreams and adorned with the promise of forever.

The dress was flowy, white and the bodice was designed with flowers, your hair was curled and in a bun.

A sense of profound gratitude washes over you. The villa, the garden, the archway—all bear witness to the love that has blossomed and grown, leading you to this magical moment. And as the day unfolds, you know that this chapter of your journey will be etched in your hearts and memories, a testament to the beauty of love and the artistry of life.

As you watch from the window, a rush of emotions courses through you as you see your fiancé, Harry, take his place at the altar. His presence is commanding, yet his eyes hold a vulnerability that speaks to the depth of your connection. The weight of the moment presses against your chest, and your hands tremble uncontrollably.

Nerves begin to tighten their grip, a tide of anxiety that threatens to overwhelm you. You realise you need to step away from the window, away from prying eyes, to find solace in the privacy of your own thoughts. Slowly, you retreat from the view, your heart racing as you navigate the room.

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, you try to steady your breathing, but the panic has taken hold. Your breath comes in shallow gasps, and your vision blurs as the world around you becomes a blur of colours and shapes. It's as if the weight of the moment, the culmination of so many dreams and hopes, has become too much to bear all at once.

In the midst of this overwhelming rush of sensations, you clutch at the sheets beneath your fingers, seeking an anchor amidst the storm. Your mind races, thoughts colliding, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You close your eyes, trying to regain control, to remind yourself that this moment is a celebration of love, a union of two souls meant to be together.

As you sit on the edge of the bed, lost in the grip of your panic attack, you're startled by a gentle knock on the door. Your father's voice, warm and familiar, floats through the air, breaking through the fog of your distress.

"Hey darling, are you almost ready? It's almost time."

However, in the midst of your overwhelming emotions, the sound of his knock doesn't register. You remain caught in the clutches of your anxiety, your breathing erratic, your hands trembling. Your father, sensing that something might be amiss, quietly enters the room.

As he approaches you, concern etches his face. He takes in the sight of you, shaken and struggling to catch your breath.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asks softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm that rages within you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, attempting to offer comfort.

You try to respond, to explain the torrent of feelings that has engulfed you, but your words are caught in your throat. Tears gather in your eyes, and you find it difficult to meet his gaze. His presence, though, is a lifeline, a reminder of the love and support that surrounds you.

Your father's touch is steady and unwavering as he continues to reassure you.

"It's okay, my love. Just take a deep breath with me." His voice is a lifeline, guiding you through the storm with every word.

He encourages you to focus on your breath, guiding you in inhaling and exhaling, the rhythm slowly helping to ground you. His calming presence, his unwavering love, begins to chip away at the edges of your panic, offering a glimmer of relief.

As the waves of panic slowly recede, you manage to find your voice, your trembling words breaking through the lingering unease.

"I want Harry," you mutter, the simple desire a beacon of clarity amidst the emotional tumult.

Your father's eyes soften with understanding, and he nods in response, a silent affirmation of your wishes. With a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder, he offers a comforting smile. "Of course, my dear. I'll be right back."

He steps away from you, leaving a sense of warmth and reassurance in his wake. The space around you is filled with a mixture of anticipation and a newfound sense of serenity. You watch as he leaves the room, his footsteps fading down the corridor, a promise that he'll bring the one who can anchor you most in this moment of vulnerability.

Harry stands at the altar, a black tuxedo, with a frilly colour and a long, thin black tie, matching trousers and some heeled chelsea boots on his feet, the embodiment of nerves and excitement, his heart racing as he waits for the moment you'll appear. His gaze sweeps over the rows of seated guests, their faces illuminated by the soft golden light of the sun. The garden around him is alive with anticipation, each petal and leaf whispering of the love that's about to unfold.

But as he scans the garden, his eyes seeking the vision of you he's held in his heart, a flicker of concern crosses his features. You're nowhere to be seen, and his brow furrows with worry. His gaze narrows, hoping for a glimpse of your familiar figure emerging from the villa, but the seconds stretch on, and you remain absent.

Confusion deepens into concern as he tilts his head, trying to discern any sign of what might be amiss. His heart beats faster, the rhythm of the moment disrupted by the absence of the one he's been waiting for. Just as worry begins to tighten its grip, he notices your father approaching him, a determined expression on his face.

"Harry," your father says, his voice steady, though laced with urgency. "I need to talk to you for a moment."

He offers a reassuring smile, his eyes holding a mix of empathy and understanding.

Harry's heart skips a beat, his apprehension growing as he steps forward to meet your father.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, his voice carrying the weight of concern.

Your father takes a deep breath before speaking, his tone measured and calm. "There's been a little hiccup with (Y/N). She's inside the villa, and she needs a moment."

A rush of emotions sweeps over Harry as reality sinks in. He nods in understanding, his thoughts racing. "Is she okay?"

Your father's eyes soften, and he places a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "She's with us. Just needed a moment to gather herself. I wanted to let you know."

Without another word, Harry turns on his heels and rushes back down the aisle toward the villa. He moves with an urgency fueled by love and concern, his heart pounding in his chest.

Time seems to stretch as you wait, the air pregnant with anticipation. In the distance, the sounds of laughter and murmured conversations from the garden drift through the window, a reminder of the celebration that awaits. And then, as if a gentle whisper of destiny, the door opens once again.

And there he is—Harry, your anchor, your rock, your source of solace. His presence fills the room, a magnetic force that draws you closer to him. As his eyes meet yours, you see an understanding there, a connection that transcends words.

In that instant, all the swirling worries and fears seem to melt away, replaced by a sense of security that only his presence can provide. He barely spares a glance at your dress, as if deliberately averting his gaze to maintain the element of surprise.

Without hesitation, Harry crosses the room, his movements fueled by a sense of urgency to be by your side. He crouches down in front of you, his fingers gently finding yours, his touch a lifeline as he holds your trembling hands. His eyes search your face, his concern etched in his expression.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice a tender murmur that seems to fill the room. "What's wrong? Talk t’me."

You draw in a shaky breath, feeling the safety of his presence as you begin to voice the jumbled thoughts that have been plaguing your mind.

"I'm really nervous, H," you admit, your words a vulnerable confession of your inner turmoil.

Harry's grip on your hands tightens, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin.

"It's okay t’be nervous, m’honey," he reassures you, his gaze unwavering. "But we're in this together. Y’and me, right?"

A tear escapes your eye, and you nod, your voice barely a whisper. "I know, but... I want to make sure you're making the right decision by marrying me. I don't want you to regret it."

Harry's brow furrows slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of understanding and determination.

"Listen t’me," he says firmly, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that leaves no room for doubt. "There's no one else, (Y/N), baby You're the only one I want, the only one I've ever wanted."

The weight of his words settles over you like a warm embrace, filling the space around you with a sense of profound clarity. In his gaze, you see a reflection of the love that has brought you to this moment, a love that is steadfast and unwavering.

With a tender smile, Harry reaches up to wipe away the tear that has fallen from your eye. "I'm here because I want t’be, because I choose y’every single day. We're a team, and we're on this journey together."

As you hold Harry's gaze, your heart swells with emotion, the words you're about to speak carrying the weight of vulnerability.

"Harry, I'm not like everyone else you've dated," you begin, your voice soft yet resolute. "I'm not a model, I'm not famous, I'm just... average."

The sincerity in your words hangs in the air, a testament to your own insecurities, a fear that you might not measure up to the glamorous lives he's been a part of. But before you can say more, Harry interrupts you, his voice gentle yet firm. "Hey, don't say that."

His fingers find yours, his touch grounding you in the moment. The look in his eyes is earnest, a reflection of his genuine emotions. "You're not just 'average',your (Y/N). Y’unique, y’beautiful, and y’perfect just the way y’are. Y’don't have t’be like anyone else. That's not why I love you."

The weight of his words washes over you, a tide of reassurance that erases the doubts you've been carrying. His sincerity wraps around you like a warm embrace, pushing away the shadows of comparison and self-doubt. In this moment, you understand that Harry's love transcends the surface and superficial, and that his feelings for you run deep.

He lifts your chin gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he gazes into your eyes. "Y’are not defined by anyone else's standards. Y’not just a sum of y’parts. Y’you, and that's all I ever wanted."

As Harry continues to hold your hands, his fingers gently intertwined with yours, his observant gaze catches the subtle tremble that still lingers in your fingers.

A hint of concern flickers in his eyes, and he offers a tender smile, his voice a soothing balm. "Y’know, there's an idea that just crossed m’mind."

You meet his gaze, curious and attentive, eager to hear what he's thinking.

"What is it?" you ask, your voice a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

His smile widens, and his words are spoken with a warmth that radiates through the room. "What if... what if we walked down the aisle together?"

The suggestion hangs in the air, its simplicity carrying a depth of understanding that resonates with you. The idea of facing the nervousness together, as a team, is both comforting and intriguing. You take a moment to consider it, letting the concept settle within your heart.

"Walk down the aisle together?" you repeat, your thoughts taking shape. "You mean, like, side by side?"

Harry nods, his gaze unwavering, his expression filled with unwavering support. "Yeah, that way y’won't have t’feel nervous. We'll face whatever comes together."

His words echo the sentiment you've come to cherish—the idea of partnership, of sharing the journey, of supporting one another through challenges. You let his suggestion sink in, and a sense of relief begins to replace the lingering apprehension.

After a beat, you smile, your heart lighter than it's been in moments. "Yeah, that would make me feel a lot better."

Harry's eyes light up, his smile mirroring your own as he uses one hand to your hand gently and uses his free hand to wipe under your eyes, making sure your mascara didn’t smudge. "Good. It's settled then. We'll walk down that aisle together, facing whatever comes hand in hand."

His words are a promise, a reassurance that even in the face of nervousness and uncertainty, you'll find strength in each other's presence. As you lock eyes with Harry, you're reminded once again of the power of love, the connection that can ease even the most anxious of hearts.

[keehomania]

accomplice (공범) — kim taehyung (김태형)

✧.* 18+

it was in love’s grasp that people found their greatest vulnerabilities exposed. it is love that held the power to bring forth both the heights of ecstasy and the depths of despair, often within the same breath. that weapon did not merely attack—it ensnared, it entwined, and in its embrace, it could drive its blade deep into the very core of one’s being. its effectiveness lied not in its force but in its subtlety, its ability to undermine from within while masquerading as a friend.

even as it healed, love could wound with the same touch. it was a gift that, when wielded recklessly, could leave scars that never fully faded. it was the smile that hid betrayal, the caress that masked intent, the warmth that preceded a cold, unfeeling end. love was the shadow that danced at the edge of light, a darkness that held the promise of all that could be lost in its pursuit. in the grand theatre of human emotion, love stood as the most potent of all the tools of destruction, draped in a veil of beauty and grace. it was the weapon that could unravel lives with the gentlest of touches and leave behind only the echoes of a dream once cherished. and in that way, love remained the greatest weapon of all evil, not through its capacity to destroy but through its ability to seduce, to bind, and to ultimately leave its mark on the soul, irrevocably changed.

in the twilight of your shared existence, love unfolded with the slow, deliberate grace of a symphony. the days drifted past in a haze of golden hues, each moment with taehyung a testament to the profound beauty of your connection. the world outside seemed to dissolve into a mere backdrop as you both wove your lives into an intricate tapestry of affection and vulnerability.

the first time you truly recognized the depth of your bond was beneath the canopy of a starlit sky. the night air was crisp, carrying with it the faintest hint of jasmine from the garden below. you had been lying side by side on the grassy knoll, your fingers intertwining effortlessly, as if they were always meant to be together. his voice, low and melodious, broke the silence. “do you ever wonder,” he asked, his gaze fixed on the celestial expanse above, “if the stars are just a reflection of our souls, scattered across the universe?”

you turned to him, your heart swelling with an emotion too vast for words. “sometimes,” you replied softly, “it feels like they are. like they’re whispering secrets that only we can understand.” he smiled, a slow, tender curve of his lips that made your heart ache with its sincerity. “i’ve always thought that love was the universe’s way of reminding us that we’re never truly alone. that even in the vastness of space, there’s a connection that binds us.”

in those moments, with his head resting gently on your shoulder and the weight of the world momentarily suspended, you felt the profound truth of his words. love was indeed a force that transcended the ordinary, a cosmic bond that defied the confines of time and space. your days together were punctuated by those quiet revelations, moments of profound clarity interspersed with the simple joys of shared experiences. whether it was the soft laughter that accompanied your late-night conversations or the stolen glances in crowded rooms, each instance was imbued with a beauty that seemed almost sacred.

in the sanctuary of your shared existence, where the boundaries between passion and tenderness blurred, love unfurled itself with a fiery intensity that was as consuming as it was enchanting. the nights spent together were not just a testament to the strength of your bond but also to the raw, unfiltered passion that coursed through every touch and whisper.

as twilight settled over your world, the air was heavy with the promise of something more. the room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the lamps, casting shadows that danced playfully on the walls. taehyung’s presence was a palpable force, a magnetic pull that drew you ever closer. he stood before you, his gaze unwavering as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. the simple gesture was charged with an undercurrent of longing, a silent confession of the desire that simmered just beneath the surface. his fingers lingered on your skin, their warmth sending shivers down your spine.

“you know,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety rumble that resonated with an intensity that matched the heat in his eyes, “there’s something almost intoxicating about the way you look at me.” you met his gaze, your heart racing as you felt the heat of his words envelop you. “and you,” you replied, your voice hushed and trembling with anticipation, “have a way of making everything feel so electric. every touch, every glance—it's like a spark that ignites a fire within me.”

with a slow, deliberate movement, he closed the distance between you. his hands found your waist, drawing you close until your bodies were pressed together, the rhythm of his breath a steady cadence against your skin. his lips brushed against your ear, the sensation both tantalizing and reassuring. “i’ve always believed,” he whispered, his breath warm and tantalizing, “that love and lust are intertwined, two sides of the same coin. It’s the way you make me feel that drives me to the edge of reason, the way our bodies communicate in a language that words can never fully capture.”

you responded to his touch with an urgency that spoke of the depth of your desire. your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, each caress a testament to the passion that surged between you. as his lips found yours, the kiss was a fierce and hungry exploration, a melding of souls that left you both breathless and yearning. the room seemed to close in around you, the world outside fading into insignificance as you became lost in the intoxicating dance of desire. taehyung’s hands roamed over your body with a reverent intensity, each touch a promise, each kiss a declaration. the space between you was charged with an electric energy, a palpable force that seemed to set every nerve on edge.

“you're mine,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff, pressing his body against yours. his hands roamed over your clothed skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. the scent of desire mingled in the air, thickening the tension between you. you didn't protest when he shoved you against the wall, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, “you're gonna take it all.” it was a promise, a threat, and a declaration of his intentions. and in that moment, you realized you had never been so ready to surrender.

his fingers fumbled with the buttons of your shirt, ripping it open to reveal your braless chest. your tits bounced free, the cool air brushing against your hardened nipples. taehyung's eyes gleamed with hunger as he took in the sight, and he didn't waste a second before his mouth was on you, biting and sucking, leaving red marks on your skin. you gasped, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab his hair, pulling him closer as he kneaded your flesh with rough, demanding hands. the sound of fabric tearing filled the room as he yanked your pants down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable before him.

his eyes traveled down, darkening as he took in the sight of your wet pussy. “so pretty,” he murmured, before slapping your ass hard. the sound echoed through the room, making you jump and moan. your eyes watered, but you didn't dare tell him to stop. you liked it rough, just like he did. he smacked you again, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “ask for it,” he demanded, his voice a growl that sent shivers down your spine. "please," you begged, your voice shaking with need. “please, tae, fuck me.”

without another word, he positioned himself at your entrance, his hard length pressing against your wetness. he pushed in, inch by inch, filling you completely. your walls stretched around him, welcoming him home. you moaned his name, your body trembling with pleasure. he didn't hold back, slamming into you with a ferocity that had you seeing stars. your hands clawed at his back, leaving deep scratches as he slapped your tits, watching them bounce with every thrust. “you like that?” he asked, his voice thick with lust. “yeah,” you moaned, feeling your orgasm building. “i like it when you're rough with me.”

his hand reached up, grabbing your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. “you want more?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours. you nodded, unable to form words. “good,” he said, tightening his grip as he picked up the pace. your breathing grew ragged, your body on the edge of ecstasy. “say it,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “say you're mine.” and with a final smack to your face, you did, your voice hoarse as you screamed it out, “i'm yours, tae!” and with that, you shattered around him, your body convulsing with the most intense orgasm you had ever felt.

the lush, intoxicating beauty of your relationship had once seemed invincible, an impenetrable fortress of love and desire. but as the days turned into months and the months into years, the relentless march of reality began to press against the walls of your shared world. the vibrant tapestry of passion and tenderness began to fray at the edges, worn thin by the harsh realities that even the strongest love could not entirely escape.

the weight of the evening felt oppressive, the air thick with the heavy, palpable tension that had been building for weeks. your small trailer home, once a sanctuary of shared dreams and affection, now seemed like a cage of discontent. the dim light from a single lamp flickered against the walls, casting long, distorted shadows that danced in rhythm with the mounting frustration between you and taehyung.

the last of your money had been spent on a six-pack of beer, a futile attempt to escape the grinding reality of your financial struggles. empty bottles cluttered the table, a stark reminder of how far you had fallen from the easy intimacy of your past. he sat across from you, his face set in a grim expression as he took another swig from his bottle.

“i can’t fucking believe this,” he said, his voice edged with anger. “we’ve been struggling for months, and here we are, with nothing to show for it. we’ve spent every last cent on this,” he gestured angrily at the empty bottles, “and we’re no closer to fixing anything.”

you glared back at him, your own frustration boiling over. “don’t act like it’s just about the money. we’ve been fighting about this constantly. every time we try to make a plan, it fucking falls apart.”

his eyes flashed with irritation. “you think i don’t know that? i’m the one who’s been working myself to the bone, trying to find a way out of this shit. but every time i turn around, we’re right back here, broke and angry.”

“and i’m the one who’s been holding this shit together, trying to make sure we have enough to get by,” you shot back, your voice rising. “it’s not like i’m just sitting around doing nothing. we’re both in this mess, and it’s tearing us apart.” the argument spiraled, each of you throwing blame with increasing fervor. the words became sharper, the accusations more personal. what had once been a shared struggle now seemed like an insurmountable barrier between you, your voices rising in a cacophony of frustration.

“we’re on the brink of losing everything,” he shouted, slamming his bottle down on the table. “and what do we do? we drink away the last of our money like it’s going to fix anything!” your face flushed with anger, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes. “we’re both exhausted. this isn’t just about the fucking money; it’s about feeling like we’re failing at everything we’ve worked for. we’re constantly fighting just to stay afloat, and it’s destroying us.”

his face hardened, his frustration turning into a cold resolve. “you know what? i can’t do this anymore. i need some space, some time to think. i can’t keep fighting this battle day in and day out with no end in sight.” before you could respond, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. without another word, he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door. the sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the small trailer, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

you stared at the closed door, feeling the enormity of the situation settle over you. the argument had left both of you raw and exposed, and now, the emptiness of the trailer seemed to mirror the emptiness of your heart. the weight of your financial troubles felt even heavier now, the anger and pain of the argument making the struggle feel even more insurmountable. outside, taehyung stood in the dim light of the trailer’s porch, his breath visible in the chilly night air. he fumbled with a pack of cigarettes, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled one out and lit it with a shaking match. the plume of smoke curled up into the night, mingling with the fog of his thoughts.

the cigarette’s glow illuminated his face in fleeting moments, revealing the weariness and regret etched into his features. he took a long drag, the nicotine offering a brief reprieve from the relentless weight of his thoughts. the cold night air felt like a stark contrast to the heated argument that had transpired inside. his mind raced as he exhaled the smoke, each puff a small attempt to clear the storm of emotions swirling inside him. the cigarette burned down, its ashes falling to the ground as he grappled with the reality of your situation. the comfort of the night was a harsh juxtaposition to the chaos of the evening, a quiet backdrop to the turmoil within.

his footsteps echoed softly against the cold pavement as he walked away from the trailer home, the weight of the argument with you still heavy on his shoulders. the cool night air was a stark contrast to the heated words exchanged, and the solitary walk gave him a momentary escape from the suffocating tension that had plagued his evening.

he headed towards his friend's place, a small apartment that always seemed to have a haze of smoke drifting from its windows. yoongi, a friend known for his reckless tendencies and a constant source of questionable advice, was a haven for those in need of distraction or, in taehyung’s case, a sounding board for his mounting frustrations. when he arrived, yoongi greeted him with a knowing nod and a smirk that spoke of many similar late-night confessions. they settled into the worn-out couch, the familiar scent of stale smoke and cheap cologne filling the room. yoongi reached for a joint, rolling it with practiced ease and lighting it with a casual flick.

“rough night?” he asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a lazy drawl. his eyes, half-closed in relaxation, watched as taehyung took the joint and drew in a deep breath, letting the smoke curl around him.

“you could say that,” he replied, his voice strained as he took another drag. “things are just getting worse. the money’s gone, and the arguing never stops. i don’t know how much more I can take.” yoongi’s eyes sharpened with a glint of mischief. “you know, there’s always a way out if you’re willing to look for it. sometimes you just need a little push in the right direction.”

taehyung looked at him with a mix of hope and skepticism. “what are you talking about?” yoongi reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “a contact I know—he’s got connections. if you’re really desperate, he might be able to help. just text him. he might offer you a solution.”

the paper had a phone number scribbled on it, and taehyung hesitated for a moment before accepting it. yoongi’s demeanor was too casual, too nonchalant, but the desperation in his heart drove him to take a chance. he nodded, though doubts lingered at the edge of his mind. “thanks,” he said, pocketing the number. “i’ll think about it.”

as he walked back to the trailer, the weight of the night hung heavily around him. he couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding, but the thought of the financial relief yoongi had promised was too alluring to ignore. when he returned to the trailer, you were asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing a stark reminder of what he stood to lose. in the quiet of the night, he sat at the small kitchen table, his phone in hand. with trembling fingers, he composed a text to the unknown number: “i need help. i was given your contact. what can you offer?”

he sent the message and waited, the seconds stretching into what felt like hours. finally, a response came through: “i can offer you a way out. you will be given a target and location. complete the job, and the money will be yours. are you in?”

taehyung’s heart raced as he read the message. the reality of what was being asked of him hit like a wave, and he hesitated. the thought of taking another person’s life was a profound and unsettling concept. but then he thought of you—the mounting bills, the arguments, the fear of losing you—and the money promised seemed to be the only escape from the relentless cycle of despair. with a resigned breath, he replied: “i’m in. who's the target?”

the response came swiftly: “you will receive the details shortly. follow them precisely. do not involve anyone else.” the message left him with a feeling of dread, but the desperation to save your relationship pushed him forward. he needed the money, and the promise of a way out was too compelling to ignore.

the next morning, taehyung set out in his car, following the instructions he had received. his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as he drove through unfamiliar streets, the early morning light casting an eerie glow on the empty roads. the destination was an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, its dilapidated structure a stark contrast to the life he had once envisioned for himself.

when he arrived, he parked his car and approached the building with a sense of grim determination. inside, he found a solitary figure waiting for him, a man with a cold, detached demeanor. the instructions had been clear: there was a target, and the payment would be made once the job was complete. his heart pounded as the man handed him a photograph of the target—a middle-aged man with a weary expression. the target was described in detail, his daily routine, and the precise location where he would be found. his hands shook slightly as he took in the information, the enormity of what he was about to do weighing heavily on him.

“you know what you need to do,” the man said, his voice devoid of empathy. “get it done, and you’ll receive your payment. no mistakes.” taehyung nodded, his mind numb with fear and resolve. he followed the directions to the location where the target was expected to be—a quiet, isolated park where the man often took his morning walks. as he approached, the sight of the man moving slowly along the path seemed to crystallize the gravity of the situation.

he took a deep breath, steeling himself against the turmoil inside. the act was swift and brutal, driven by the necessity of the moment. the cold reality of the deed left him hollow, the weight of the action crashing down on him as he completed the job. the man fell, lifeless, and taehyung’s heart felt like lead as he made the final call to the contact. he texted the number: “the job is finished.” the reply came almost immediately: “good. payment will be sent.”

with the task behind him, taehyung drove back to the trailer, his mind clouded with a mix of guilt and relief. the night was a blur of regret and disquiet as he lay in bed beside you, the comforting rhythm of your sleep a cruel contrast to the turmoil within him. when morning came, he awoke to a sense of unease. he found a package left at your doorstep, its presence a stark reminder of the price he had paid. he opened it cautiously, revealing a substantial amount of money neatly packed inside. the sight of the cash was both a relief and a torment, a bitter reminder of the sacrifice he had made.

as he stared at the money, the enormity of his actions settled heavily on him. the financial relief that had seemed so alluring now felt tainted, the cost of maintaining your relationship overshadowed by the dark path he had chosen. the guilt gnawed at him, a constant companion in the quiet moments of the morning, as he prepared to face another day with the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

the morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of your trailer, casting a soft glow over the small space. taehyung lay beside you, his mind a tumultuous sea of conflicting emotions. the heavy weight of his actions pressed down on him, a constant reminder of the path he had taken. yet, as he glanced at you, peacefully asleep beside him, a pang of regret and determination surged within him.

the sight of you, so innocent and trusting, filled him with a deep sorrow. he had done something unforgivable to provide for you, to salvage the love that seemed on the brink of destruction. the money on the table, though a source of relief, was also a symbol of the dark choice he had made. as he stared at the pile of cash, his resolve hardened. he had to put on a façade of normalcy, to keep you from knowing the truth. with a heavy heart, he gently shook your shoulder, his touch tender despite the inner turmoil. “hey, wake up,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady.

you stirred, blinking awake and smiling as you saw him beside you. “morning,” you mumbled, your voice still drowsy. “i have something for you,” taehyung said, a forced cheerfulness in his tone as he reached for the bundle of cash on the table. he picked it up, holding it out to you with a mixture of apprehension and hope. “i want you to see this.”

you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and looked at the wad of money in his hands. your eyes widened in surprise. “what is this? where did you get all this money?” taehyung swallowed hard, his mind racing for a plausible explanation. “it’s from my parents,” he said, forcing a smile. “they sent it for a missed birthday. they wanted to help us out.”

you stared at the money, the disbelief on your face quickly melting into joy. “are you serious? this is incredible! i can’t believe they did this for us!” the relief and happiness in your voice made taehyung’s heart ache. he wanted to confess, to tell you everything, but the lie he had spun felt like the only way to protect you from the truth. the money was a temporary fix, a shallow balm for the deeper wound of what he had done.

“i’m just glad we have some breathing room now,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “we can finally catch a break.” without another word, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. the affection in your touch, the way you held him close, was both a comfort and a torment. you tilted your head up, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was tender and full of unspoken gratitude.

the kiss was a sweet balm for the guilt that gnawed at his conscience. the warmth of your lips against his, the softness of your touch, was a stark contrast to the cold reality of his actions. as you pulled back, your eyes sparkled with happiness, and you looked at him with a smile that made his heart ache even more.

the newfound wealth had transformed your lives in ways you hadn't imagined. the pile of cash had grown, and with it, your ability to enjoy luxuries that had once seemed out of reach. taehyung’s resolve had hardened, each task he completed bringing more money and a temporary sense of relief, though the weight of his actions never fully left him.

one evening, you both decided to escape the confines of your trailer and immerse yourselves in the vibrant nightlife of the city. you donned a stunning dress that clung to your curves, the fabric shimmering under the club’s lights. the sight of you in that dress took taehyung’s breath away, momentarily erasing the persistent shadows of guilt that lingered in his mind. the club was a pulsating sea of lights and sounds, and as you stepped inside, the energy of the place seemed to envelop you both.

he led you to the bar, where the drinks flowed freely. you both ordered a round of cocktails, the vibrant colors of the drinks reflecting the thrill of the night. the alcohol quickly took effect, loosening inhibitions and heightening the euphoria of the evening. you and him shared a joint between sips of your drinks, the marijuana mixing with the alcohol to create a heady combination that made everything feel more vivid, more intense.

as the night progressed, you found yourselves on the dance floor, bodies pressed together as the music thrummed around you. the rhythm of the beats seemed to synchronize with your racing heart, and his hands roamed over your body, his touch electrifying.

in a corner of the club, away from prying eyes, you both lost yourselves in each other. the thrill of the evening, the high from the drinks and drugs, made every touch feel more passionate, every kiss more intense. taehyung pulled you close, his lips meeting yours in a heated kiss. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own private bubble of lust and desire.

as your hands tangled in his hair, the moment was abruptly interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone. he pulled away, frustration etched on his face as he glanced at the screen.

“sorry, i need to check this,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “i’ll be right back.” you nodded, your eyes still hazy with intoxication and desire. “i’ll be in the bathroom,” you replied, already swaying slightly as you headed toward the restroom.

taehyung stepped outside into the cool night air, the vibrant sounds of the club fading behind him. he pulled out his phone and checked the new messages from the contact. the screen displayed the terse instructions: another job. target is at the old warehouse near the docks. same procedure as before. “don’t leave until it’s done. payment will be transferred upon completion.”

his heart raced, a mixture of dread and resignation settling in. he read the message several times, the words echoing ominously in his mind. absentmindedly, he tossed his phone back onto the table as he walked into the sanctuary of the club, feeling a pang of anxiety as he headed toward the designated location. in his haze of guilt and inebriation, taehyung failed to register where he had left his phone.

the warehouse was an imposing structure, its silhouette dark and foreboding against the night sky. he approached it with a sense of grim determination. the job had become a grim routine, but the stakes were high, and the thought of losing you kept him focused. the target, a blond man with a sullen expression, was supposed to be waiting at the rear of the warehouse. taehyung moved silently through the shadows, the weight of the gun in his hand a constant reminder of the gravity of his actions. his breaths came in shallow, anxious puffs as he neared the spot.

he spotted the target standing alone, seemingly unaware of the imminent danger. his mind was clouded with a mixture of guilt and resolve. he took a deep breath, raising the gun with a practiced steadiness. the silencer on the end of the barrel made the shot almost imperceptible. the man fell with a quiet thud, the finality of the action sinking deep into his conscience. he stood over the body, his heart pounding in his chest. he had completed another job, but the weight of each act grew heavier.

the dim light of the trailer was a definite contrast to the pulsating energy of the club. taehyung stumbled through the door, his thoughts still clouded by the night’s grim tasks. he expected to find you in the soft glow of the trailer’s modest lighting, perhaps waiting for him with a tired smile. instead, he was met with a scene that made his heart drop.

you were seated on a chair, your body clad in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. the cigarette in your hand was a small, glowing ember in the dark room. an angry expression marred your usually serene face, your eyes narrowed as you glared at him. on the table beside you lay his phone, its screen dark but unmistakably present. his heart raced as he saw the phone. panic surged through him; he had left it at the club, and now the possibility of someone discovering his secret was all too real. his mind raced through the implications, the potential fallout from such a careless mistake.

“hey, i—” taehyung began, trying to muster a calm demeanor, but his voice faltered as he saw your fuming expression. without a word, you stood up, the cigarette burning down in your hand. in a sudden burst of fury, you grabbed an ashtray from the table and hurled it at him. the ceramic object shattered against the wall, a sharp crack that echoed through the trailer.

“where the fuck have you been?” you screamed, your voice cracking with anger and frustration. “you think you can just disappear and leave me here? what are you doing with your life, taehyung? how could you be so careless?” he took the hits, his heart sinking with every accusation. he tried to explain, to offer some semblance of a reason, but the words caught in his throat. your anger was raw, unrestrained, and each word was a painful reminder of the lies and deceit he had spun.

you pounded at his chest with your fists, each blow a physical manifestation of your hurt and betrayal. tears streamed down your face, mingling with the smoke of the cigarette and the remnants of shattered ceramic.

“you promised me a future,” you yelled through your tears. “a real future, not this shit. i trusted you, and now look at what you’ve done. you’ve thrown it all away.”

he stood there, taking every blow, his own anger and guilt simmering just beneath the surface. he wanted to explain, to tell you the truth, but the weight of his actions and the fear of losing you held him back. when you finally seemed to lose the strength to continue, your energy spent from the outburst, he gently took your wrists in his hands. he cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the anger of moments before.

“please, don’t cry,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “i’m so sorry. i never meant for any of this to happen. i thought i was doing what i needed to for us.” in that fragile moment, as he wiped away your tears, there was a flicker of the love that had once been so strong between you. it was a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared, now tainted by the darkness of his choices.

“i know I’ve made mistakes,” he continued, his voice cracking. “i’ll stop. i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.” you looked at him, the pain in your eyes mixing with a deep sadness. the promise, though heartfelt, came too late. the trust that had once been the foundation of your relationship had been shattered, and no amount of apologies could mend it.

“i can’t do this anymore,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “i can’t keep living like this. i need to move on.” the words hit him like a physical blow. the reality of what you were saying sank in, the finality of it almost unbearable. he had lost his way, and in doing so, had lost you as well.

you stood up, your movements slow and deliberate as you gathered the few belongings you had brought with you into the trailer. he watched in silent despair as you prepared to leave, the weight of his actions heavy on his shoulders. with one last glance at him, you headed for the door, the finality of your departure echoing through the small trailer. taehyung stood there, rooted to the spot, as the door closed behind you. the silence that followed was deafening, the contrast to the chaos and noise of the night before brutal. he sank down into a chair, the trailer now feeling colder and emptier than it had before. the money that had once seemed like a lifeline now felt like a curse, a reminder of the price he had paid for the love he had tried so desperately to save. the guilt and regret gnawed at him, a relentless reminder of the choices he had made and the love he had lost.

hours turned into days, and days into weeks. the morning light seeped through the thin curtains of the trailer, casting a dull glow over the room. taehyung woke up with a groan, his head throbbing from a night of excessive drinking and numbing escapism. the bed, once a place of shared intimacy and warmth with you, was now a chaotic mess of discarded clothing and bodies. girls he had picked up the previous night were sprawled across the sheets, their disheveled appearances a stark contrast to the sophisticated allure they had once possessed.

as his eyes adjusted to the light, he took in the scene around him. the sight of the girls, their faces smeared with traces of makeup and their bodies intertwined in careless abandon, ignited a wave of anger and frustration. the once comforting space now felt suffocating, a constant reminder of the emptiness that had replaced your presence.

the more he stared at them, the angrier he became. the room, filled with the remnants of last night’s indulgence, was a stark reminder of his failed attempts to drown out the pain of your departure. the girls, oblivious to the storm raging inside him, began to stir and stretch, their groggy movements only serving to heighten his irritation. “get up,” his voice cracked with raw, unfiltered rage as he erupted, startling the girls awake. “get the fuck out of my house.”

their eyes widened in alarm as they scrambled to gather their belongings, their earlier flirtatiousness replaced by fear. his anger seemed to seep into every corner of the room, turning it into a battleground of shattered emotions. the girls, now fully awake and realizing the gravity of the situation, hurriedly dressed, their movements frantic and disorganized. “just fucking leave,” he continued to yell, his voice echoing with a mix of fury and despair. “get the fuck out!”

in his rage, he grabbed a handful of cash from the bedside table and tossed it at them with a disdainful flick of his wrist. the money scattered across the floor, a pathetic attempt to buy their silence and expedite their departure. the girls, frightened and desperate to escape, hurried out of the trailer, their footsteps echoing in the silence that followed.

with a final, disgusted glance at the remnants of his night, taehyung stumbled into the bathroom, the weight of his anger and regret pressing down on him. he clutched a half-empty beer in his hand, the liquid sloshing around as he moved. the familiar smell of stale alcohol and smoke mixed with the growing stench of his own self-loathing. he staggered to the toilet, the room spinning around him as he dropped to his knees. the beer, once a source of temporary solace, now felt like a heavy burden. with a groan, he leaned over the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach, his body convulsing with each heave. the vomit splashed into the bowl, a sickly mix of alcohol and regret.

as he retched, memories of you flooded his mind. your laughter, your touch, the warmth of your presence—everything that had made the trailer feel like a home now felt like a cruel joke. the more he thought about you, the more intense his anguish became. the trailer, the money, the meaningless encounters with strangers—it was all a desperate attempt to fill the void you had left behind, but nothing could replace the love he had lost. hia sobs mingled with the sound of his heaving stomach, each wave of nausea accompanied by a wave of grief. he clutched the side of the toilet, his knuckles white as he gripped the porcelain. The bathroom, with its harsh lighting and grimy surfaces, seemed like a fitting backdrop for his misery.

the club was a chaotic symphony of flashing lights, pulsing beats, and a haze of cigarette smoke. the air was thick with the scent of perfume and alcohol, blending together into an intoxicating mix that mirrored the chaotic state of your mind. the music, a relentless beat that throbbed through the crowd, seemed to synchronize with the erratic rhythm of your heart.

you stood at the center of the dance floor, your body moving to the rhythm with a wild abandon that belied the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the scandalous dress you wore clung to your form, its shimmering fabric catching the strobe lights and casting an alluring glow around you. in one hand, you clutched a bottle of alcohol, its contents sloshing with each movement, the liquid serving as both a shield and a source of fleeting comfort. the crowd around you was a blur of faces and bodies, their movements a stark contrast to your own. you danced with an intensity that seemed to cut through the noise, each gyration and twist a desperate attempt to drown out the ache that had settled in your chest. the bottle was a constant companion, its alcohol providing a temporary numbness that barely masked the pain beneath.

a man, drawn to your wild energy and provocative presence, approached you with a confident stride. his eyes, glazed with a mixture of desire and intoxication, locked onto you as he slid up beside you, his hand grazing your waist. he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered something you barely registered. in a haze of alcohol and frustration, you allowed him to pull you closer. his lips met yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, a collision of heat and desperation. for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours and the pounding music in the background.

the kiss was an escape, a fleeting moment of physical connection that offered a temporary reprieve from the turmoil inside you. but as quickly as it had begun, it ended. you pushed him away with a sudden, forceful shove, your movements fueled by an intense need to escape. the man stumbled back, a mixture of surprise and frustration on his face, but you paid him no mind.

staggering slightly, you turned away from him, your mind already drifting back to the person you were trying so desperately to forget. you took a deep swig from the bottle, the sharp burn of the alcohol a harsh reminder of your own self-destructive behavior. the familiar taste was a bitter echo of the solace you sought in these fleeting encounters, and it did little to quell the ache that lingered.

as you made your way through the crowd, weaving through the sea of bodies, you felt a growing sense of disorientation. the music, once a driving force, now felt like a relentless hammer pounding against your temples. the flashing lights blurred together, creating a disorienting kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to mock your attempts at escape. you found a quieter corner of the club, a place where the noise was muffled and the crowd was thinner. leaning against a wall, you took another swig from the bottle, the alcohol providing a temporary sense of detachment. your mind, however, remained stubbornly focused on taehyung. memories of him, of the life you had shared, seemed to surface with every beat of the music.

the more you tried to push those thoughts away, the more insistent they became. you remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the feel of his arms around you, the whispered promises that had once held so much meaning. the more you thought about it, the more you realized that no amount of alcohol or temporary pleasure could fill the void left by his absence.

the neon lights of the club pulsed with an unrelenting rhythm, casting their garish hues across the dance floor and illuminating the chaotic swirl of bodies. taehyung, his mind clouded by both alcohol and tumultuous emotions, entered the club with a sense of purpose. the disarray of his recent days had driven him to seek solace in the place that had become both his refuge and his prison.

he moved through the crowd with a determined stride, pushing past clusters of revelers and navigating through the maze of flashing lights and pounding beats. the bar was his first stop, and he ordered a drink with a brusque wave of his hand, the bartender quickly handing him a glass of amber liquid that he downed in one swift motion. the alcohol burned its way down his throat, offering a fleeting sense of numbness as he leaned against the bar.

as he surveyed the scene before him, a girl, with eyes full of want and an expression of flirtatious intent, approached him. she pressed against him, her hands wandering over his chest with a practiced ease. for a moment, he allowed himself to be swept along by the physical distraction, his thoughts momentarily diverted from the pain that gnawed at him. but then, he caught sight of you.

you were at the heart of the dance floor, your body moving with a sensual abandon that caught his breath. the dress you wore shimmered under the lights, its scandalous cut accentuating every curve as you danced, your movements a tantalizing blend of freedom and desperation. your eyes were glazed, your expression a mask of fleeting enjoyment that did little to hide the underlying turmoil.

in a sudden burst of clarity, taehyung shoved the girl away from him, his face contorted with frustration and heartbreak. “get the fuck off,” he snapped, his voice harsh and unyielding. the girl looked startled and taken aback but quickly retreated, her attempt at flirtation now nothing more than a distant try. his gaze locked onto yours across the dance floor. time seemed to stretch and distort as your eyes met. In that moment, the cacophony of the club faded into a distant hum, leaving only the silent, heavy weight of unspoken emotions. the sight of you, so close yet so unreachable, twisted at his heart.

he watched as you reached for another swig from your bottle, the movement almost mechanical. your eyes, once filled with fiery intensity, now seemed empty and distant. the sight of your distress, the way you seemed to force yourself to look away, cut deep into him. he felt a pang of regret, a profound sorrow that made him wish he could turn back time.

he stood there, helpless, as another girl approached him, her demeanor flirtatious and uninviting. “you look like you could use some company,” she said, her voice soft and inviting. taehyung barely glanced at her, his eyes still fixed on you. “fuck off,” he muttered, his tone cold and dismissive. the girl, recognizing the finality in his voice, backed away, her interest swiftly extinguished.

seeing the rejection unfold, you felt a sudden surge of courage and staggered over to him, the alcohol making your movements unsteady. his eyes widened in surprise as you approached, the distance between you shrinking with each hesitant step you took.

“taehyung,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. tears began to flow freely down your cheeks as you reached him. “taehyung, i love you.” his heart ached at the sight of your tears, the raw emotion in your voice striking a chord deep within him. without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, offered a balm to the turmoil you both felt.

“i love you too,” he whispered into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that stained your cheeks. his kiss was tender and full of longing, a promise of the love that had never truly faded. as you both held each other, the world outside the club seemed to dissolve into insignificance. in that moment, the noise, the flashing lights, and the chaotic crowd were mere shadows against the intensity of your connection. the promise you made, to make up and find a way back to each other, was a fragile thread that seemed to bind you both in a newfound resolve.

the morning light pushed past the thin curtains of the bed, casting a warm, gentle glow across the room. you woke slowly, nestled in the secure embrace of taehyung, the familiar rhythm of his breathing a comforting reminder of the bond you both shared. his arms were wrapped protectively around you, and the warmth of his body against yours provided a deep sense of solace. as you stirred, his lips brushed softly against your forehead, the gentle kiss a tender greeting to the new day. his touch was light and affectionate, a stark contrast to the tumultuous nights that had preceded this moment. you sighed contentedly, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift slightly, replaced by the calm intimacy of waking up together.

“good morning,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep but filled with genuine warmth. he tilted your chin up gently and kissed you with a sweetness that spoke of both apology and affection. the kiss deepened, his lips moving with a deliberate tenderness that conveyed his sincere intentions.

“i promise,” he said as he pulled away slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering determination, “i’m done with that life. we’ll find another way. i’m gonna stop answering those texts and demands.” you could see the resolve in his eyes, the genuine commitment to leave behind the dangerous path he had been on. it was a promise of renewal, of building a future together without the shadows of past mistakes hanging over you.

the day unfolded like a vivid dream. taehyung’s reckless driving down winding roads and your laughter filling the car created a tapestry of shared joy and freedom. the wind whipped through the open windows, ruffling your hair and adding to the exhilarating sense of liberation that enveloped you both. the radio blared your favorite songs, the beats and lyrics a soundtrack to your newfound happiness.

in the passenger seat, you leaned in close, your lips grazing taehyung’s neck as you planted soft, lingering kisses against his skin. the sensation of your lips on his neck made him shiver with pleasure, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he navigated the road with an unchecked abandon. “slow down, shit,” you laughed, the thrill of the moment making your heart race as much as his speed. “not a chance,” he grinned back, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and affection. “we’re having too much fun.”

eventually, he pulled up to a secluded spot by the sea, a hidden gem away from the prying eyes of the city. the area was serene, the only sounds the gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the distant calls of seagulls. the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue across the water and creating a picturesque scene that felt both intimate and vast.

you both stepped out of the car, the cool sea breeze brushing against your skin. taehyung took your hand, leading you down to the edge of the water where the sand was soft beneath your feet. the sunset painted the horizon in hues of orange and pink, creating a backdrop that seemed to mirror the warmth and beauty of the moment. he pulled you close, his arms encircling your waist as he gazed into your eyes with a tenderness that spoke of a deep, unwavering love. you tilted your head slightly, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that was both a celebration of your renewed connection and a promise of the future.

as you pulled back slightly, you looked into his eyes and asked softly, “do you remember our date last christmas?” his eyes softened with nostalgia. “how could i forget? it was magical. i remember everything—how we danced under the stars and how everything felt so perfect.” you smiled, feeling a rush of happiness at the shared memory. “promise me we’ll do it again this christmas.”

“absolutely,” he replied, his voice full of conviction and love. “we’ll make it even more special. i promise.” the promise hung between you like a golden thread, weaving your shared past and hopeful future into a single, beautiful moment. the serenity of the seaside, combined with the reaffirmation of your love and commitment, made everything feel right again.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the serene sea, you felt a surge of happiness that made your heart flutter. the tranquil seaside setting was the perfect backdrop for a moment of connection, and the promise of christmas together only deepened the sense of contentment you felt. deciding to extend the evening's pleasures, you headed back to the car to retrieve a couple of beers you had stashed in the cooler.

taehyung followed close behind, his footsteps light and purposeful, his presence a comforting reassurance. as you reached the car, you fumbled with the cooler, pulling out the cold bottles of beer and feeling the chill of the metal against your skin. the sound of the waves lapping against the shore was a soothing symphony, the only other noise being the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

you popped the caps off the beers, the familiar hiss of escaping carbonation filling the air. but before you could turn back around, taehyung’s hands settled on your waist, his touch sending a delightful shiver down your spine. the heat of his body pressed against your back was an unmistakable reminder of his closeness, and you felt his breath against your neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your skin.

his kisses were light but electrifying, his lips teasing the sensitive area just below your ear. the sensation was both intoxicating and tender, sending waves of pleasure through you. you felt your knees go weak with his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his warm breath mingled with the cool evening air. in your slightly disoriented state, you clumsily dropped one of the beers, the bottle hitting the ground with a muted thud and a slight splash of foam. the other bottle teetered precariously in your hand before you let it fall as well, the evening’s calm interrupted by the clatter of glass and the soft fizz of escaping beer.

turning around with a sudden, almost desperate urgency, you came face-to-face with him. his eyes were dark with desire, and the intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing. without a word, you closed the gap between you, capturing his lips in a steamy, passionate kiss. the kiss was fiery and urgent, your lips moving against his with an unrestrained fervor that mirrored the intense emotions both of you were feeling. the taste of the beer and the lingering sweetness of the moment combined into a heady mix, making the kiss even more intoxicating. his hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his touch mingling with the warmth of the evening.

the kiss deepened, each movement a blend of longing and love as he guided you back into the car. his lips pressed against yours with a hunger that was both exhilarating and comforting. his hands slid down to your hips, holding you firmly as the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. you gasped into the kiss, feeling his clothed dick press against you. he kissed you with the same passion you were used to as you brought your hand up, letting it collide with his face, the way he liked it. the sound sharp in the confined space. taehyung's grip tightened, his eyes lighting up with a feral glint. you'd discovered long ago that little slaps were his kryptonite, turning the sweet, tender kisses into something raw and primal.

he chuckled darkly, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip. “you love fucking me up, don't you?” he whispered, his thumb pushing into your mouth. you bit down, a warning, but he just chuckled again, his eyes flashing with excitement. the air was thick with lust as you both fumbled with buttons and zippers, desperate to be skin to skin. the windows steamed up quickly, obscuring the outside world. there was no one around to see, but the thrill of being so exposed added to the excitement.

his hand found its way under your shirt, his rough fingers brushing against your sensitive skin. you arched into his touch, moaning softly. he pulled away, panting, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached into his pocket for a condom.

“not this time,” you murmured, your voice a challenge. his eyes went wide for a moment before a smoldering look took over his features. he tossed the condom aside, his hand resuming its journey up your thigh. “you're playing with fire,” he warned, his voice low and gruff. but he didn't stop. he knew you were ready for it, happy to take the risk, ready to feel him in a way that was as dangerous as it was exhilarating.

the sound of the ocean was the only soundtrack to your passion as you gave in to the moment, letting your inhibitions wash away with the tide. the salt in the air mingled with the scent of sweat and desire, creating a heady cocktail that intoxicated you both. his hand was rough as he unbuckled your pants, his other hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer for another bruising kiss. you could feel him, hot and hard, pressing against you, and it was all you could think about.

his fingers slid into you without warning, and you bit down on his thumb to muffle your cry of pleasure. he swore under his breath, his eyes never leaving yours, watching as your pupils dilated and your breath hitched. “you're always soaked for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. you nodded, unable to form coherent words, your body responding to his every touch.

his hand withdrew, and before you could protest, he was pushing into you, his bare length filling you up in one swift motion. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made you see stars. you slapped him again, harder this time, and he groaned, his hips driving into you with an intensity that stole your breath away. “fuck me, taehyung,” you ordered, your voice strained.

he complied, his rhythm relentless, his grip on your hair tightening. the car rocked slightly with every thrust, the leather seats squeaking in protest. the waves crashed against the shore, a tempo that matched the beating of your hearts. dirty words fell from your lips, egging him on, and he responded in kind, his voice a deep growl that sent shivers down your spine. “you love this cock,” he grunted, his eyes burning into yours. “tell me how much you love it.”

you nodded, your voice a breathy whisper. “love you and your cock so much,” you murmured, and that was all it took for him to lose control. his thumb was back in your mouth, choking you gently as he claimed you, his movements growing more erratic. you felt the pressure building, your orgasm approaching like a tidal wave. you could feel him getting closer too, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.

his hand slid from your hair to your throat, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp around his thumb. you bucked your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect sync. “i'm gonna cum,” you warned, your eyes glazing over. his response was a grunt, his own orgasm close at hand.

the world around you faded away as you both reached the peak of your passion, your bodies shuddering in release. the only sounds were the waves and your muffled cries, the taste of salt and sweat on your tongues. taehyung's grip loosened, his thumb sliding from your mouth as he kissed you deeply, claiming every part of you in that moment.

the days that followed were a tapestry of rediscovered love and intimacy. each morning you woke wrapped in taehyung's arms, each night you fell asleep with him beside you. the closeness you shared was a soothing balm to the wounds inflicted by the trials of the past. life had taken on a renewed sense of purpose and joy, and the days seemed to pass in a blur of shared laughter, tender moments, and the occasional playful argument that only seemed to strengthen your bond.

one particularly afternoon, you found yourself curled up on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket. the sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. your breathing was steady and peaceful, a testament to the calm that had settled into your life since the reconciliation with him.

in the midst of it all, he was jolted from his routine by a sudden, unexpected ding at the door. frowning in confusion, he glanced at you one last time before heading to the door. the sound of the delivery echoed in the quiet space, the door creaking open to reveal a plain, unmarked package on the doorstep.

he picked it up, his brow furrowing in curiosity. he had been diligently ignoring the threatening messages and demands for work, so the arrival of this package was both unexpected and troubling. the envelope, which bore no return address or identifying marks, felt oddly heavy in his hands. closing the door behind him, he carried the package to the kitchen table. he set it down, his fingers trembling slightly as he began to open it. his mind raced with anxious thoughts, wondering if the package was a final attempt at intimidation or something more sinister. as the wrapping fell away, his heart sank into his stomach.

inside the package lay a bloody, mutilated hand. the sight was both horrific and chilling, the blood still fresh and the fingers twisted in a grotesque display. it was clear that this was no ordinary threat—it was a brutal, unambiguous warning. the shock of the discovery left him momentarily frozen. his thoughts were a chaotic swirl of fear and anger. the gruesome token was a stark reminder of the danger he faced, and the brutal reality of the world he had become entangled in. he knew that ignoring the threat was no longer an option, but the thought of returning to his former life, the life that had caused you so much pain, filled him with a deep sense of conflict.

he thought of you—how you had left him because of his dangerous lifestyle, the pain and heartbreak you had endured because of his choices. he remembered the promises he had made to you, the commitment to change, and the joy he felt when you were together. the realization that you were now safe and content, the memories of your recent days together, fueled his resolve. determined not to let this threat control his life or endanger you, he decided to take action. he moved with deliberate urgency, pulling on a dark shirt and grabbing his silencer with practiced efficiency. the weight of the weapon in his hand was a sobering reminder of the violence he had tried to leave behind. but his decision was made—he would confront those who had threatened him and put an end to their intimidation.

before leaving, he took one last look at you, sleeping peacefully on the couch. the sight of your serene face, the way the blanket was draped over you, and the soft rise and fall of your chest made his heart ache with a profound sense of love and regret. he knew that he had to protect you and ensure that you remained safe, no matter the cost. he knelt beside you, his movements gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. Leaning in, he placed a soft, tender kiss on your forehead. the kiss was a silent promise, an assurance that he would come back to you and fulfill the promise of the christmas date you had looked forward to.

“i love you,” he whispered quietly, his voice filled with emotion and resolve. “i’ll be back soon. we’ll have our christmas together, i promise.” with a final, lingering look, he stood up, his expression a mixture of determination and sadness. he took one last deep breath before slipping out of the door, his steps resolute and purposeful. the decision to confront his enemies was a grim one, but it was driven by a fierce need to protect the life and love he had built with you.

his drive to the designated spot was filled with an adrenaline-fueled focus that masked the anxiety gnawing at his insides. the light was dim, the sky a muted canvas of gray as he maneuvered his car through the empty streets. the location provided in the last threatening message was on the outskirts of town, a secluded warehouse area known for its desolate and shadowy corners. the tension in the car was palpable, his breaths coming in sharp, controlled bursts. he kept glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard, the minutes ticking away as he approached the rendezvous point. he mentally reviewed the plan: confront the masked men, eliminate the threat, and get back to you. the sight of the grim package and the thought of you had steeled his resolve, making the danger ahead feel almost secondary.

he arrived at the warehouse district, the large, decrepit buildings casting long shadows over the cracked pavement. taehyung parked the car a safe distance away, his heart pounding in anticipation. he grabbed his silencer and checked the clip of his gun, taking a deep breath as he prepared to face the confrontation.

moving stealthily, he approached the first of the abandoned buildings. the inside was a labyrinth of rusted metal and broken glass, the echoes of his footsteps magnifying the eerie silence. his senses were on high alert, and he soon spotted the first two masked men waiting in the dimly lit room. they were huddled together, their muffled voices revealing their intent to deal with him.

with calculated precision, he aimed and fired. the first shot was clean, hitting its mark with deadly accuracy. the second was a bit more chaotic, but still effective. as the second man fell, taehyung felt a sharp pain sear through his leg. he looked down to see blood pooling around his foot, the wound more severe than he had anticipated. his vision blurred slightly as he stumbled back toward the car, the pain intensifying with each step. he knew he was running out of time and options. his leg was weakening, each step more labored than the last. as he reached the car, he tried to catch his breath, but the pain and blood loss were taking their toll.

he collapsed into the driver’s seat, struggling to close the door. the pain was overwhelming, and he could feel his consciousness slipping. he was barely aware of the shadow that fell across the driver’s seat until it was too late.

a masked man had slipped into the car behind him, pressing the barrel of a gun to taehyung's temple. the man’s voice was cold and laced with contempt. “thought you could run away from us, huh? giving up on the job and all?” taehyung turned his head slightly, his vision hazy and his strength waning. the man’s proximity only made the situation more dire. he could feel the sweat and blood mixing on his skin, the intensity of his predicament pressing down on him like a vise.

“just do it,” taehyung murmured, his voice a strained whisper. “i’m done. i’ve lost.” his words were punctuated by labored breaths and a deep, resigned sigh. the masked man leaned closer, his breath hot and foul against his ear. “you’re weak. couldn’t even finish the job you started. i wonder what your girlfriend would say.”

taehyung managed a weak, defiant chuckle despite the pain. his gaze fell on the man’s mask, and an idea sparked in his fading consciousness. with what little strength he had left, he reached up and grabbed at the edges of the mask. he pulled with all his might, revealing the face hidden behind it.

yoongi's face was emotionless, but there was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “i always knew you’d be a liability,” he said coldly, his grip on the gun unwavering. “it’s a shame you had to be so fucking stubborn.” taehyung tried to muster a final, defiant gesture, but his body was failing him. with his last ounce of strength, he clung to yoongi's mask, trying to pull it back over his face. he wanted to ensure that the last thing he saw was the face of the man who had deceived him. but the effort was futile.

yoongi, unfazed, brought the gun up with a final, deliberate movement. the cold steel pressed against taehyung’s temple was the last sensation he felt before everything went black. the shot rang out with a sickening finality, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. taehyung’s body went limp, the life draining from him as the blood continued to seep from his wound. yoongi looked down at the lifeless form with a mixture of cold satisfaction and finality, the weight of the gun heavy in his hand.

the late afternoon sun bathed your trailer in a warm, amber light, casting long shadows across the modest living room. you sat comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, your fingers absentmindedly twirling the two bracelets that you and taehyung had shared last christmas. their delicate metal glinted faintly in the sunlight, a tangible reminder of happier times. the anticipation of reuniting with him for another christmas filled you with a quiet, hopeful joy. the thought of making new memories with him, of celebrating the season together, seemed to promise a return to a simpler, more blissful time.

you were lost in those thoughts, your mind weaving dreams of a perfect holiday together, when the tranquility of your home was abruptly shattered by the sound of the doorbell ringing. the sharp, insistent chime cut through the warm, nostalgic haze, jolting you from your reverie.

your heart skipped a beat, a flicker of unease making its way through the calm. the sound of the doorbell was so unexpected, so out of place, that it sent a shiver down your spine. taehyung had been expected home by now, and the sudden ring of the bell felt dissonant against the backdrop of your daydreams.

you froze, sitting in the dim glow of the room, the blanket clutched tightly around you. a cold unease crept in as the minutes ticked by, the doorbell's chime echoing through the quiet space. each ring grew more insistent, more demanding, until it seemed to fill the room with an eerie resonance.

the thought of answering the door never crossed your mind. a sense of foreboding had taken hold, a gnawing worry that something was wrong, something that you couldn’t quite grasp. you remained seated, the blanket growing heavier with each passing moment, your mind racing through unsettling possibilities. the anticipation of taehyung’s return had shifted into something darker, something uncertain.

as the ringing persisted, you slowly stood up, moving toward the door with a deliberate slowness. every step felt heavy, burdened by an unseen weight. your hand hovered over the doorknob, but you hesitated, the unsettling feeling growing stronger with each breath. the doorbell continued to ring, a relentless echo that seemed to seep into the very walls of your home.

finally, you stopped just short of the door, your heart pounding in your chest. the sound of the bell became a persistent, haunting reminder of something unknown, something you feared to confront. you remained motionless, the door’s ominous presence casting a shadow over your once-cozy haven. the silence that followed the final ring was heavy, pregnant with unanswered questions.

the door remained closed, and the unsettling silence grew thick around you, a palpable tension that gripped the air. you stood there, caught in a moment of eerie stillness, the promise of a joyous reunion overshadowed by a growing dread.

and so, as you waited in the quiet, your mind raced with unanswered fears and foreboding, the doorbell's echo fading into an uneasy silence. the world outside remained just beyond your reach, and the answer to the mystery of the visitor remained tantalizingly, and ominously, out of sight.

✧.*

a/n: whoever guesses which mv this is based on gets a cookie

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🌸 Short Fics

(Part Two ~ 5k-10k)

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

🌸 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday (T, 10k)

Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.

🌸 a garden in bloom by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (G, 10k)

Louis used to live the quiet sweet life of a small business owner in the English countryside.

Then Harry Styles came along.

🌸 Make Him Want to Sin by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird (E, 9k)

The stranger’s sharp gaze landed on him immediately, the eye contact shattering through Harry’s defenses. For the first time in his life, Harry had an instantaneous reaction to someone. The man stared down at him with interest, like he wanted to take Harry apart and put him back together again, piece by piece. Harry wanted that more than anything, and he wanted it right now. It took every ounce of strength he had ever possessed to not drop down to his knees instinctively.

All from one glance.

Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.

🌸 Give Me One Excuse by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (T, 9k)

Louis gets dumped by his fiancée and Harry is his replacement. It's not their decision to get engaged, but it's their decision to get married.

Or, an Arranged Marriage Royal AU.

🌸 You Deserve It All by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings (NR, 9k)

Just once Harry would like to face his ex and feel confident, but he's shit at confronting Nick and unfortunately his shopping skills aren't much better. Thankfully for him, the cute sales boy at the clothing shop knows a thing or two about fashion and making ex boyfriends green with envy.

🌸 Night Out by @helloamhere (E, 9k)

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

🌸 a body wishes to be held & held by @turnyourankle (E, 9k)

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

🌸 Sweet to the Soul, Health to the Bones by wildhalos (T, 9k)

“When you walk in, every single thing stops. I see you, only.” Someone keeps declaring their love on the brick wall outside Louis’s office window. It's possible Louis should be concerned, but the romantic in him would like to believe a stalker would use something slightly more vicious than chalk and pretty words.

🌸 Second Time's the Charm by @cherrystreet (E, 8k)

Louis’ mother is convinced she met her son’s soulmate at the market. Louis is extremely hesitant to go on the blind date she’s set up, but she’s persistent, begging and pleading, pulling out all the stops. After all, mothers do know best.

(Or maybe they don’t.)

🌸 Now That It's Over by @lululawrence (NR, 8k)

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis' dates.

🌸 good enough (for you) by localopa / @voulezloux (G, 8k)

omega louis is next in line to rule the pack. in spite of the rule saying he needs an alpha to rule, he creates an impossible olympics to find a worthy mate. harry somehow wins the gold.

🌸 Mr. Tuesday by @jaerie (E, 8k)

Tuesday. Harry loved Mr. Tuesday.

It was true that most of his clients were regulars, but there was just something about Mr. Tuesday that would make him stand out amongst the others even if he hadn’t booked almost every single Tuesday with him for the past year. It was the first day of Harry’s work week and Mr. Tuesday always eased him into it in such a pleasant way.

🌸 Holding out for something more by SunTomato / @sun-tomato (NR, 8k)

"This isn't a social call, is it, Curly?" Harry's gaze drops to the floor. "No." Harry takes a deep breath, fists clenching at his side, before he looks up again. His eyes meet Louis’ with a mix of fear and determination. "I want to make a deal."

OR The one where demon Louis really doesn't want Harry to trade away his soul, even if he can't explain why.

🌸 I Don't Love You I Want in Your House by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 7k)

Harry comes into the bakery almost every day trying to woo Louis.

Zayn works out at the gym maybe a little more than necessary so that he can get the chance to watch Liam train.

Niall is the only one who ever checks the mail.

🌸 Your secret’s safe with me by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic (M, 7k)

He knew almost everything about Haz, considered him his best friend. He knew his favourite movies and books, how he liked his coffee, knew how many pets he had and what he was most afraid of. Louis knew how to calm him down when he was panicking, and that he’d lost his virginity to his ex-boyfriend when he was 17. He knew that Haz had curly hair, green eyes, that he was tall and considered himself slightly awkward. He knew his Instagram account that only had aesthetic pictures or ridiculous jokes, but in the all the time that Louis had known him, he’d never learnt, or been allowed to know, Haz’s full name, what he sounded like, or what he looked like.

Louis didn't care.

Or, when Louis' favourite singer comes back and announces he's performing again, him and the rest of his group chat decide to go. When Haz, the man Louis' fallen in love with without meeting him, says that he can't, Louis tries his best to convince him with a drunken phone call, hearing his voice for the first time. It's not until he's at Royal Variety that he swears he can hear it again.

🌸 'Sup by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics (G, 6k)

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

🌸 Easier by @allwaswell16 (E, 6k)

The last person Louis wants to see is his ex-boyfriend who also happens to be his soulmate.

🌸 Bijou by @kingsofeverything (E, 6k)

Being in love with his best friend wouldn't be so awful if Harry didn't have to listen to him constantly complain about how the guys he dates don't measure up.

🌸 We're Getting Better With Time by @haztobegood (T, 5k)

Hello Harry, this may seem out of the blue, and even weirder if you don’t remember me. We hung out for a few weeks back in the summer of 82. A picture of you showed up on my facebook tonight, I think because we have a few mutual friends on here. I know we haven’t spoken in forty years, but I thought I’d just shoot you a message. I hope you’re doing well. L

Or, the one where Louis is single, Harry is recently divorced, and they reconnect on Facebook forty years after they first met.

🌸 old macdonald had a farm by vintagehistories / @adoredontour (NR, 5k)

Louis is a hedgehog, Harry is a fish, Niall is a parrot, Liam is a golden retriever, and Zayn is Zayn. It’s a crazy twenty-four hours.

🌸 Only Reason by @letsjustsee (NR, 5k)

“We are so lucky to have with us one of the leading experts on beekeeping in the modern age, Dr. Louis Draper.” No. No, no, no… “I know I speak for many of us when I say that this man’s books have guided our practice, or helped us get started,” Harry continued, and Louis watched as the crowd nodded their heads in agreement. Oh shit. No. What? No. But then Harry was gesturing towards him, saying “Dr. Draper?” into the microphone, the crowd was applauding, and Louis found himself walking up the stairs to the stage.

Or, Louis is most definitely smitten with Harry from the second he sees him, but he is also most definitely not the world's foremost expert on beekeeping. He decides to roll with it anyway.

🌸 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry (G, 5k)

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets

[mysticraven20]

To Feel You Breathe

For @bohemianrhapsody711 number 4 of @kisspromptsforthelovesquare - "I thought I lost you" kiss.

Bringing this from the archives (Inspired by the Hunger Games)

Ladybug’s feet tangled around themselves and caused her to stumble over the rooftop. The toe of one foot collided hard with the heel of the other as she unceremoniously hopped in order to keep her stability. 

The sudden weight shift had her colliding hard with the chimney, clipping her shoulder and scraping it against the hard, rough brick. Her hand slapped onto the wall, pushing herself away before clutching her shoulder and carrying on. She had to keep moving. 

A red swirl of Ladybug’s continued to dance around in the sky, circulating over her head; a promise of revival, a promise of luck, a promise of hope. 

Her heart begged for the ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ to work the way it always did — rebuilding and reforming — as her mind reminded her about what was important.  She couldn’t stop and check everything was going to plan. Stopping would steal seconds away from her — precious seconds she didn’t have.

Paris began to put itself back together; growing and growing as buildings and monuments reposition themselves in their pride of place. Back to being important to the citizens of the city — but right now, none of these were important to her. 

She hadn’t bothered to stop to check on the victim, or speak to Alya and make her usual statement, as soon as the Lucky Charm was launched high up into the air, she ran – fast, and with intent. 

Taking a leap, she pushed herself from the rooftop landing straight onto the next; her feet never truly connected with the ground. She had tunnel vision; a one track in mind. 

She skidded to a halt, attempting to gain her bearings. She looked around, not entirely sure where she was. 

They’d started the fight in the 6th arrondissement. 

A glance down jolted something in her memory as she noticed the boutiques on street level. She recognised them straight away. The one on the corner was where she’d been browsing when the first fireball hit – smashing through the roof as though it was made of paper and causing the building to crumble quickly and efficiently. 

The Akuma had moved fast and struck hard — harder than she’d ever seen before — taking them on a tour of the city before she could finally conclude the fight near the Louvre. 

She couldn’t exactly remember where they were when it happened. The whole event felt like an out of body experience; her heart had become disjointed from her body as the Akuma’s hard hitting, soul destroying ray took everything out of her. 

Her eyes trailed the buildings in the east. Maybe, that had been the area. It definitely looked familiar – but so did an array of rooftops over Paris. Chimneys, rooftop gardens, walls — all an almost exact duplicate of each other.

Ladybug berated herself. She couldn’t remember where it had happened. All she could remember was the feeling of him disintegrating through her fingers as she tried to keep him conscious and with her. A slow, painful death orchestrated with loud, ear piercing screams. She’d held him tight and close; his body finally slipped through her fingers and faded away to nothingness – her own screams taking over the unfortunate symphony.

He had to be here. He had to be somewhere – here . She’d fixed it! That’s what she did.

Her eyes began to survey the area again, each breath catching hard in her throat with every beat of her heart. She stretched a hand up, clutching at her throat, at her chest – at anything – in hope it would help her breathe. Her airways tightening in reaction to the panic and the pain — labouring her breaths and causing her to claw at her throat.

The red above her head, abruptly, gave way to blue.

Normality.

An imposter against the storm brewing in her heart. 

Her feet began to move again, taking off in a feeble attempt of tracing her steps. The rooftop had to be near here. It just had to be.

Every single step caused a ricochet through her body, the pounding impacting in her head, as much as it was her heart. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her feet tangled like a mess of wires, snaking around each other in a practised and impossible entanglement, tripping her up and causing her to lose balance. Next thing she knew, she was falling. An unexpected twist of cruelty which took her down onto her knees. She fell hard, her hands  catching her before her face hit the ground, a droplet of water landing beside her glove, the grief of her loss fully on display for all to see — evidence of her failure. 

And the storm finally reached its superlative.

She used her hands to push herself up, but her knees were uncooperative and sent her stumbling forward once again. She dropped back onto the rough surface of the rooftop, her knees agonising from the impact on hard concrete against her skin, a feeling usually foreign when she was in her super suit. 

A heavy rattling sob became an echo of melancholy vibrating between rooftops. She couldn’t go on anymore. She couldn’t. She was done. She couldn’t breathe.

The rooftop was suddenly being coated in droplets of her sorrow, tiny pieces of anguish effortlessly falling on the ground without a care for ruining something previously untouched.

“I’m sorry.” She let out a sob. “I’m so sorry!” 

Laying her head in her open palms, she took the moment to be less than super, to feel everything that came with the grief of losing him, of not being able to save him. The memories she’d thought so little of passed through her mind in a film noir way. Times she should have done more, times she’d chosen to do less, times she’d taken him for granted. She wiggled her fingers wishing she could remember how he felt, his smooth skin and soft hair. But she’d failed. The gloves had always been in her way of really feeling him.

She could hear his voice echoing in her mind, words she longed to hear and would do anything for him to say again. The sweet distant call of him talking to ‘his Lady’. 

“Kitty,” she whimpered, an arm wrapping around her stomach as she held herself tightly. “Kitty!” Her voice was broken, every repeat of the word sounding foreign to herself. Was that really her voice? 

“M’Lady.” 

She heard it again. Chat Noir’s voice was clear in her ears, so concise; she was amazed she could remember it so distinctly. 

“Oh, Bug.” It was there again, this time closer. 

He was calling to her. 

“Bugaboo, come on!” 

She felt something on her hand, grasping it tightly. It felt so real, as did the hot breath on her neck. Almost as if he was here — with her.

Ladybug looked up, straight into the eyes of Chat Noir; her partner crouched down opposite her. 

“Are you really here?” she sobbed. “Is it really you?” 

A black, clawed hand stretched to her cheek, fitting perfectly against her chin as a cool thumb brushed away the tears gliding effortlessly down her face. He began to shush her, moving closer and using his other hand to claw through her hair.

“Real or not real?” she whispered, Chat Noir once again wiping away the tears on her face. One corner of his lips tugged upwards in that way she adored so much. 

“Real. I’m here. I’m back! You saved me.” 

With a trembling hand, she reached up and stroked over his face, tracing every part she could touch. She dragged her fingers around the edge of his mask, over his nose and cheeks before feeling the contour of his chin. It was all there. He was there. She completed the round once more, etching every single detail into her mind — positive she’d never forget the feeling of him again.

Launching herself into his arms, Ladybug cuddled him tightly, the sobs ripping through her body as her hands moved over his body. Threading in his hair and clawing at his back, before finding a home on his beating heart. The repeated consistency evening out her own.  

“You’re real!” she repeated, trembling before moving her arms and pulling him in closer. “You were dead!” she whimpered, everything shaking as she cried out the pain. “I felt you die!” 

He held her just as tightly, burying his nose into her hair as she continued to shake in his arms. A grasp that didn’t ease. Real.

“I’m here! I’m back. You saved me. You always save me.”

“You stopped breathing!” she said, gasping for her own breath as she continued to try and crawl at his skin. He was here. Her partner was here and she had never been more grateful for the power of the ladybugs. 

She continued to shake in his arms. 

He threaded his claws into her hair and gently loosened the ribbons freeing her hair and allowing him to massage her scalp. He placed his forehead against hers, brushing his nose delicately against hers.

“I’m breathing now. I’m here.” 

He moved forward and placed his lips against the corner of hers; a soft, electrifying kiss, which allowed the feeling of contentment to waterfall from her shoulders and release the tension she’d held so tightly. 

The night’s curtains began to draw, closing the brightness of day and leaving them with privacy amongst the stars, both interwoven as they soaked themself in the warmth of their love. 

“You love me?” Chat Noir whispered into Ladybug’s ear. “Real, or not real?” 

She pulled away from the hug, her hands clutching his and bringing them to her lips, a delicate kiss placed to each wrist. 

“Real.”

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against him, the solid feel of life beneath her. She loved him. She needed him. She wanted him.

Time didn’t record how long they stayed there, huddled tightly on the rooftop as they found solace in one another. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, even days or months, but it didn’t matter, because she was here, safe in his arms. And when she was here, with him, she could finally breathe again.

[blessed-by-umbral]

Westward

Far off in the horizon, the radiant aetheryte of Limsa glimmered like a constellation of stars, however, the enchanting brilliance was destined to be dimmed as ominous rainclouds began to gather. Throughout the day, she possessed the extraordinary ability to anticipate the arrival of rain merely by its scent. Whether she found herself in the grandeur of the estate's ballroom or the tranquility of the garden, the fragrance of rain would permeate the air. The weather's deceptive façade of a clear, cloudless sky painted in hues of pale blue did not deter her keen intuition, for she knew that the rain was on its way, carried by the gentle breeze that passed promise of the impending storm. The tempestuous allure of thunder and lightning called to her in strange ways. The way the dark clouds rolled in, heralding the impending chaos, filled her with a sense of comfort.  She found solace in the symphony of raindrops against her window, coupled with the fierce winds whispering secrets only she could decipher. Storms were not just weather phenomena to her; they were living, breathing entities that spoke to her soul in a language only she could understand. Presently, she discovered herself traversing the extensive stone pathway which stretched for a mile and a half, enveloped by an abundance of tended foliage. This route guided her towards the waterfront of the Cress Estate, and it was this very location where the inception of all Cress Ships took place, harmoniously intertwined with the looming presence of the Cress Bell tower. However, the resplendence of this architectural marvel was momentarily subdued as a somber blanket of grey clouds descended around it, as if it reached so high it pierced the firmament. With each stride, her drenched boot graced the stone steps that guided her towards the grand entrance of the bell tower. As the supple leather made contact with the first droplet of water, a symphony of nature's tears began to unfold. One by one, the raindrops danced upon her boot, creating a mesmerizing rhythm that echoed through the air. Soon, a deluge of rain enveloped her, its weighty presence accompanied by the resounding chorus of raindrops.

Ondrea made not to hasten herself toward the grand oak door, with its intricate iron details catching the dim light in a mesmerizing dance. Amongst the ornate filigree, a bell-shaped impression stood out at the center. Her fingers, adorned in leather, grasped the bell heirloom around her neck and pulled it free. No sooner did it fit perfectly within the shape adorning the barricade. As she entered, she was reminded of the interiors vertical structure and the sense of timeless luxury it houses. Every detail was meticulously crafted to perfection. The rain outside continued to beat its perpetual symphony as it cascaded down upon the iron dome ceiling. The stone walls were adorned with meticulously crafted iron wrought sconces, each radiating a mesmerizing glow that seemed to have been carefully nurtured. The way they illuminated the surroundings was nothing short of haunting, as if an invisible hand had already bestowed upon them the gift of life.

The bell, once a symbol of admittance, adorned her neck once more as she traversed the cold, unyielding stone beneath her feet. The rhythmic click-clack of her heels reverberated through the air till it reached its crescendo at the foot of a large spiral staircase. With a gaze fixed upon the ascending steps, she marveled at their seemingly infinite ascent "This tower always did call to you." Argrin's mellifluous voice reverberated through the air, gently urging her to cast a fleeting glance in his direction. As she obliged, a peculiar sensation washed over Argrin, for it appeared as though the golden hue of her eyes had been adorned with specks of emerald. "It's more than the tower that calls to me, brother." Ondrea pivoted on her heels, her gaze fixated on her brother with an air of reverence as she humbly inclined her head. "Pray tell, what brings about this dreadful afternoon?"

"The sea." he remarked casually as he approached her. He exuded an aura of authority, a man of imposing presence and grandeur. Some referred to him as 'The Bulwark of La Noscea' due to his towering height and impressive breadth.

With a gentle yet firm touch, he placed his sizable hand on Ondrea's shoulder and gracefully guided her towards one of the magnificent circular windows. Among the few that boasted intricate stained glass designs, this particular window offered a breathtaking view of the sea, its azure waters muted by the raging storm. The frothy whitecaps adorned the vast expanse of the ocean's surface. Despite appearing as mere specks from their vantage point, the pair of kin understood the immense power of the waves that were churning in the distance. "Several of our ships have failed to send message back of their findings." Argrin spoke low, his mismatched hues narrowing as he inspected the raging waters. "Shall we host a service?" "We'll give it another week. If our fears come to fruition, then we will need to instill the aide of our supporters in search of them. We cannot have our own lost in uncharted territory." "--and if our efforts should yield success?" Argrin paused. "Then perhaps your penchants will come in handy, should we need to venture within other seas." The implication was palpable. The aetherial mists. "As you say." Ondrea's reply was delivered with an air of anticipation, as if such a request had been foreseen. "In the interim, we will continue to forge our fleets?" "-And supply our supporters with food, security, and the prospect of travel. We must seek to source what lies beyond the West." "Allow me to make the necessary arrangements for the preparation of Baetylus. However, I must inquire on having Ingram and Cormac attend with me." The mere mention of their names seemed to have an intriguing effect on Argrin, causing his jaw to shift in contemplation. "-After you've completed your rituals, dear sister, then you may petition them to attend with you." Ondrea shifted her gaze towards the vast expanse of the churning sea. As the waves crashed against the shore with a rhythmic melody, she took a moment to absorb the magnitude of the journey that lay ahead. With a subtle yet powerful nod, she silently acknowledged the challenges that awaited her family in the West for it, like many other lands of the past, would be privy to the tolling of their bells.

[priyanka104]

Embracing the Mystique of Jammu and Kashmir: A Traveler's Odyssey

Welcome to a fresh narrative of my travel escapades, this time weaving through the ethereal landscapes of Jammu and Kashmir. This blog departs from the usual format, adopting a more poetic and immersive style to mirror the enchanting aura of the region. Join me as we transcend the ordinary and delve into the heart of this mystical land.

Srinagar: A Symphony of Nature and Culture

Dal Lake's Serenade: Glide over the mirror-like waters in a shikara, where the horizon blends dreams with reality.

Gardens of Eden: Wander through the Mughal Gardens, where history whispers among the chinar leaves.

Gulmarg: The Dance of Seasons

Cable Car to the Clouds: Ascend the skies in the Gulmarg Gondola, touching the heavens.

Winter's White Canvas: Carve your path in the snow, skiing where the clouds meet the earth.

Pahalgam: A Pastoral Elegy

Ballad of Betaab: In the meadows of Betaab Valley, nature composes its greenest poems.

Lidder's Lively Rapids: Challenge the spirited waters, rafting where the river sings of adventure.

Leh-Ladakh: The Zenith of Tranquility

Monastic Murmurs: In the silence of the monasteries, listen to the stories told by ancient walls.

Pangong Tso's Palette: Watch the lake change colors, reflecting the mood of the skies.

Sonmarg: The Meadow of Gold

Thajiwas Glacier's Whisper: Trek to the glacier where ice and time stand still.

Sind River's Serenity: Fish in the tranquil waters, where each catch is a story.

Jammu: The Gateway of Pilgrimage

Vaishno Devi's Call: Embark on a spiritual hike, where faith paints the path.

Raghunath Temple's Echo: Touch the stones that resonate with legends.

Kashmiri Wazwan: A Culinary Odyssey

Feast of Kings: Relish the Wazwan, where every bite narrates a spice-laden tale.

Kahwa's Warm Embrace: Sip the traditional saffron tea, a blend of warmth and wisdom.

The Craft of Pashmina

Weaves of Heritage: Witness the art of Pashmina, where every thread weaves a story.

Conclusion: Jammu and Kashmir, a land where tales are born from the mountains and rivers, invites you to be part of its narrative. Each valley sings, each mountain tells a tale, and every lake reflects a different shade of nature's story.

Traveler's Notes:

Responsible Tourism: Embrace sustainability to preserve the pristine beauty.

Cultural Sensitivity: Respect the diverse traditions and customs.

Best Time to Visit: Each season offers a unique canvas – choose yours.

As I conclude this blog, I invite you to share your experiences or thoughts about this magical land. May your journey through Jammu and Kashmir be as enchanting as the tales that sprout from its soil. Safe travels and soulful discoveries! 🌄🌌🛶

[cubic-backlinks]

The Future of Bone Health: How Orthomed Hospital is Shaping Ortho Rehab for Seniors

RESTORE: A Symphony of Care:

Imagine a program that orchestrates healing from the moment a senior enters the emergency department until long after they return home. That’s RESTORE — Returning Seniors to Orthopedic Excellence. UT Southwestern Medical Center birthed this gem, mobilizing experts from geriatrics, orthopedics, and pain management.

The Hip Fracture Challenge: Falling and hip fractures — like unwelcome guests crashing a party — are all too common among seniors. Over 300,000 seniors in the U.S. suffer hip fractures annually, with 95 percent of those fractures caused by falls. Globally, these fractures lead to serious consequences for about 30 percent of senior patients.

RESTORE’s Mission: It’s a beacon of hope. RESTORE streamlines care, reduces wait times for surgery, and extends its healing embrace far beyond hospital walls. Geriatric wizards, orthopedic maestros, and pain whisperers collaborate to rewrite the script for seniors.

The Data Dance:

In 2020, RESTORE cut the wait time for surgery in half — transforming anxious hours into mere heartbeats. Hospital stays? They pirouetted from 11.29 days to 6.44 days. Research across the country echoes this rhythm: orthogeriatric co-management programs reduce mortality rates and gift patients shorter stays and encore-free readmissions.

Why the urgency? By 2050, hip fractures are expected to increase by 310 percent in men and 240 percent in women worldwide. Texas seniors deserve a standing ovation, and RESTORE is their anthem.

Who Dances with RESTORE?:

Picture the ER stage: anyone 60 and older with a fragility fracture — bones breaking from injuries that wouldn’t faze a sprightly youngster — gets a VIP pass to RESTORE. It’s not just for frail health; even vibrant souls who trip or tumble find solace here.

Osteoporosis Spotlight: Ladies, take center stage! Osteoporosis, thinning bones’ silent mischief, puts women at higher risk. Approximately 75 percent of hip fracture patients are women. Their risk of hip fracture-related death rivals that of breast cancer.

The Grand Finale:

RESTORE isn’t just about bones; it’s about rewriting life’s choreography. Mrs. Kamala dances back to mobility, Mr. Rajesh hikes toward wanderlust, and Grandma Mary — silver sneakers twinkling — laps the hospital garden.

So, if you’re curious, reach out to Orthomed directly. Their doctors? They’re like storytellers, weaving magic through medicine. And remember, age is just a number; joy has no finish line!

If you’re in Chennai and need orthopedic expertise, Orthomed Hospital is a name to remember.

Address: New №85, Royapettah High Road, Royapettah, Chennai — 600014, Tamil Nadu, India

Phone Number: +91 44 4222 9222

Website: You can explore more about Orthomed Hospital on their website: Orthomed Hospital

[skenisasleb]

its the god-damn gregopacalype

[cubicdesignzdm]

The Future of Bone Health: How Orthomed Hospital is Shaping Ortho Rehab for Seniors

RESTORE: A Symphony of Care:

Imagine a program that orchestrates healing from the moment a senior enters the emergency department until long after they return home. That’s RESTORE — Returning Seniors to Orthopedic Excellence. UT Southwestern Medical Center birthed this gem, mobilizing experts from geriatrics, orthopedics, and pain management.

The Hip Fracture Challenge: Falling and hip fractures — like unwelcome guests crashing a party — are all too common among seniors. Over 300,000 seniors in the U.S. suffer hip fractures annually, with 95 percent of those fractures caused by falls. Globally, these fractures lead to serious consequences for about 30 percent of senior patients.

RESTORE’s Mission: It’s a beacon of hope. RESTORE streamlines care, reduces wait times for surgery, and extends its healing embrace far beyond hospital walls. Geriatric wizards, orthopedic maestros, and pain whisperers collaborate to rewrite the script for seniors.

The Data Dance:

In 2020, RESTORE cut the wait time for surgery in half — transforming anxious hours into mere heartbeats. Hospital stays? They pirouetted from 11.29 days to 6.44 days. Research across the country echoes this rhythm: orthogeriatric co-management programs reduce mortality rates and gift patients shorter stays and encore-free readmissions.

Why the urgency? By 2050, hip fractures are expected to increase by 310 percent in men and 240 percent in women worldwide. Texas seniors deserve a standing ovation, and RESTORE is their anthem.

Who Dances with RESTORE?:

Picture the ER stage: anyone 60 and older with a fragility fracture — bones breaking from injuries that wouldn’t faze a sprightly youngster — gets a VIP pass to RESTORE. It’s not just for frail health; even vibrant souls who trip or tumble find solace here.

Osteoporosis Spotlight: Ladies, take center stage! Osteoporosis, thinning bones’ silent mischief, puts women at higher risk. Approximately 75 percent of hip fracture patients are women. Their risk of hip fracture-related death rivals that of breast cancer.

The Grand Finale:

RESTORE isn’t just about bones; it’s about rewriting life’s choreography. Mrs. Kamala dances back to mobility, Mr. Rajesh hikes toward wanderlust, and Grandma Mary — silver sneakers twinkling — laps the hospital garden.

So, if you’re curious, reach out to Orthomed directly. Their doctors? They’re like storytellers, weaving magic through medicine. And remember, age is just a number; joy has no finish line!

If you’re in Chennai and need orthopedic expertise, Orthomed Hospital is a name to remember.

Address: New №85, Royapettah High Road, Royapettah, Chennai — 600014, Tamil Nadu, India

Phone Number: +91 44 4222 9222

Website: You can explore more about Orthomed Hospital on their website: Orthomed Hospital