connected alarm

heart is where the home is | kth

alternative title: ‘from new york to la, you flew right to my heart’

summary: somehow, when you woke up this morning, you didn’t really picture yourself falling in love with the attractive, well-read traveller sitting next to you on the plane, but a missed connection and an alarming amount of hand-holding later, you find that you both get a lot more than what you paid for.

{airport au with the friends to lovers trope sort of???? i guess??}

pairing: taehyung x female reader
word count: 16k
warnings: mild overstimulation, sensual sex, hotel sex because i couldn’t figure out how they could have sex in an airport
genre: fluff, smut
a/n: this is entirely based on an actual real life experience i had when i went on vacation last month, except i didn’t get to meet a cute aesthetic boy and fall in love with him :’( can’t win ‘em all, eh? for the record, i love eating fries dipped in mayo.

You’re such a dad, honestly. It’s three hours before your first flight—to none other than LA, the city of angels (and dead dreams, and Starbucks secret menus, and no water), mind you—and the taxi you’re sitting in is only now just pulling into JFK airport. And it’s stressing you out a little, because you read on some awful Buzzfeed article that you should actually show up four hours in advance when you’re taking a day flight, since airports are usually busier and therefore tend to have longer waiting times. It’s kind of ridiculous, actually, showing up practically a quarter of the day before you need to be there, but you’ve never flown on such a long flight before, and if you’re not one-hundred-and-ten percent prepared, what’s the damn point?

You pay the taxi driver the hefty bill he requires—fuck you, morning rush hour New York City traffic—and grab your things, breathing in the ever-so-pleasant air of thousands of cars, vans, and buses lined up to transport people to and fro around the airport. All airports smell the exact same the moment you set foot in them, and it’s the scent of gasoline, over-cleaned marble, and misbehaving, tantrum-throwing children. It’s somewhat refreshing, actually, all part of the journey. A reminder that you won’t be trapped in the same old town any longer.

Sure enough, the airport is decently packed when you walk inside, pulling your large four-wheel suitcase—they are infinitely better to handle than two-wheelers—and your carry-on one next to you, a backpack hugging your shoulders. The line for check-in is not astronomically long, like you would expect it to be on a typical Saturday in JFK, but the line for those ticket kiosks certainly is. You roll your way up to the end of the line and wait, tapping your foot impatiently because the fear of not allowing yourself enough time still sits in your brain, only able to be resolved once you sit down at your gate.

When you finally reach an open kiosk, it’s all fumbling for your papers in your backpack that have your flight information on them, shuffling through the travel folder you store to find all of your flight times and numbers and whatnot. You’re a bit… anxious, to say the least, desperate to speed through the process as fast as you can so you waste no time, but the only thing you manage to accomplish is dropping all of your flight information on the cold marble floor of JFK in a flurry of A4.

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1920 Lover

Okay… this was my first attempt at smut, pretty sure it’s not amazing. i have no idea how to describe it. The fic is as wild and untamed as the Jazz Age, a.k.a. my favorite period of American History. yes, it does take place in 1920, where my Fitzgeralds at?! i really hope you like it. Thank you for reading x

The man who had caught her eye seemed smitten with another young lady, with legs exposed to the maximum, and she suspected that she was a dancer from the club she currently sat in. One of his arms was resting loosely around her slim waist, and another held a garnished clear drink, cold, the water droplets dripping onto his leather shoes. His fingers softly rubbed the small area of her hip that she shamefully allowed the world to see, eyes trained on her already swollen lips.

She had seen him duck his head down and press multiple kisses to her full mouth, biting, sucking, licking her bottom lip until she groaned with contentment. She had eventually deposited her drink on the floor besides her and looped her arms around his neck, sensually tugging his frame closer to him. The sight of the two wasn’t the thing that irked her. It was the prickling sensation that swept throughout her body, a sign of self resentment because she realized that she could never substitute the girl. Men like the curly haired fellow just didn’t take interest in girls like herself.

As her gaze fell to the floor, she heard the smack of their lips grow more urgent and she could only feel his massive hand weaving through her hair and the other under her mid length dress, tugging it further up her smooth skin, tilting her head back with a soft yank of her hair, full pink lips pressed the the base of her throat. Her thighs involuntarily squeezed together on the bench she sat on, swallowing roughly as she attempted to eradicate the vulgar thoughts she couldn’t hold back about a man with piercing green eyes.

She had seen him before. He was a frequent visitor of this pub, dancing half drunkenly with women, swaying their hips back and forth against his. His hand always pressed to the lucky girl’s hip, promising a secure grasp on her to make sure she didn’t run away from him. By the looks of the girls’ euphoric expressions on their perfectly shaped features, it was indubitable that the women had no such thoughts of deserting the man. He was simply too enthralling, too inviting to leave behind and offer their bodies to another man. So they stayed with the one who brought them the most pleasure.

Most nights, the man would loop his arm around his prey’s waist and nudge her with his side, indicating toward the double doors of the exit. Everytime he did so, the girl, who sadly watched him from afar, allowed her bruised heart to sink further than the previous night since she knew that once more, her chance to please him, and to be pleased by him, would never come. She wasn’t his type.

Hell, did her mouth water when she watched him strut into the light, eyes narrowed into the crowd to search for his next victim. He never glanced back at the girl who peered at him curiously from under her thick hair, nor did he ever feel her intense gaze on his body. The way he expertly danced, the dimples that indented his cheeks, the vein in his neck when he ran out of breath while kissing another girl’s lips. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she couldn’t get.

“You look like your cat just died,” her blonde friend besides her smirked. “Or you’ve found the man of your dreams.”

The girl shook her head uneasily and swept her hair off her forehead. “Nothing like that, sweetheart.” She got a good look at the other girl whose dress was in ruffles already. “Who did you neck?”

A lazy smile etched on the blonde’s lips and with a scrunch of her nose, she dreamily began: 

“His name is Charles. He was in the war. He’s mighty fine, all tall, dark, handsome. Why, he’s single also, and intelligent! He talks about all the places he’s visited after the war. Oh he could tame a tiger with that raspy voice of his. He said he has a beach house down in Miami. Did you know Miami was in Florida?”

The other girl had latched her eyes back on the man who was feverishly biting the bottom lip of the girl he had pressed against the jazz band. Her eyes burned holes into the area where the man’s hands tugged at the petite girl’s hair, entangling his fingers almost drunkenly. There was a triumphant smirk on her lips, from where the exiled girl could see, when the curly hair was pushed arrogantly to the side by her long fingers. The lion’s mane that once burdened his neck was brushed away.

“Who are you staring at?” the blonde girl suddenly piped, noticing the absence of her friend’s attention.

The girl’s vision flickered back to her concerned friend. “Nobody.”

The Blonde’s eyes turned into slits as she trudged over, blocking the girl’s view, and arched a brow. “Tell me. Now. Have you taken a fancy in a boy?”


“So you have!” she grinned, glancing behind her rapidly. “Who is it? How cute is he? Rate him!”

Normally, the girl would have rolled her eyes and changed the topic, but this time it was different. This time, she almost wanted to blurt out her desire she’d been feeling for weeks for this curly haired man, and perhaps her friend could lend a hand to her. “He’s not cute,” she began quietly, toying with her hands in front of her dress. “He’s…” she trailed off, uncertain.

“What? He’s what?” the Blonde jumped ecstatically, grasping the other girl’s shoulders, a haughty giggle falling from her painted lips.

What could she describe the man as? Attractive? Appealing? No, he was far better than that. He was worthy of more adjectives that gave her friend an inkling about the man’s startling captivating presence. Her voice dropped to a new low. “Sexy.”

The Blonde’s mouth formed an “O” and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Now you’ve got to tell me who this sexy man is!”

“I-I don’t know his name!” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “He wouldn’t want me either….he’s–”

The girl was cut off with a gasp when she witnessed a final kiss being delivered to the man, his girl caressing his face once more before she was lost in the crowd. However, her eyes meticulously trailed after the girl who abandoned the beautiful man only to find her arms linked with another man. The Blonde’s own eyes followed where her friend was once staring at, watching the mop of curly head bop his head to every note of the trumpet. She now understood.

“He’s alone now,” she hurriedly whispered, bending at her waist to fold her friend’s dress inward at the hem to expose more of her skin. A weak cry of reluctance fell from the girl on top, but went unanswered as she was maneuvered towards the wall where the man stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, smiling at the jazz band encouragingly.

“Don’t do this!” she cried to the Blonde but she received no reply from her, only a final push towards her prize.

The man’s stance didn’t waver as he now audibly hummed along with the aged woman on stage belting out lyrics into the half destroyed microphone for the half damaged ears to listen to. The girl shuffling unwillingly towards him faintly remembered a brief introduction to the song months ago and giddiness exploded throughout her stressed body as she carefully approached the stranger.

At the last moment, her hand just shy of touching the man’s shoulder, she faltered and frantically whipped her head around to check if her friend was still behind her. To her horror, there was no sign on the Blonde.

In that moment, the curly haired man turned around, eyes connecting with the alarmed girl’s, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. She swallowed harshly and dropped her awkward intruding hand, allowing it to slap against her thigh.

“Hello,” the man spoke in a rich, raspy voice, evidently amused by her expression. An accent. The man had an accent. From where, it was difficult to decipher. She needed him to speak more.


His expression turned confused, eyes darting behind her to perhaps catch a glimpse of a person who accompanied her. “Can I help yeh?” he inquired, pressing his lips into a tight line.

England. Definitely England. Maybe Birmingham, or some place farther north. He was probably in the war too. He looked so young. He probably knew all about the world.

“Yes?” she seemed confused herself. What did she want from him?

“An’ how would I?”

Damn that sultry accent! If only she had known what a charmer he actually was face to face and not just an object to admire from afar. Perhaps she had pushed this too far. Perhaps it was time for her to apologize and awkwardly lie that he wasn’t the man she had spent all night pining after. The man’s eyes roamed her face as he felt her tense up, somewhat visibly quivering in front of him. This was new. He’d never met a girl so high strung yet insecure. The man towered over her by a good seven inches or somewhere along those lines, making it easily for him to analyze her body language. She was conflicted.

Finally, she cleared her throat and coughed. “I’d like to dance. Take me to dance right now.”

She swore it wasn’t sweat that beaded her back, embarrassingly drenching her thin dress. Suddenly, idea of dancing wasn’t as interesting and she opened her mouth to apologize for her abject move on him.  

“Dance? Yeh wanna dance with me?” he clarified.

The girl’s confidence faltered. Maybe she really wasn’t his type of girl.

“Please,” she still smiled seductively. “You’ve given all the girls a chance besides me.”

A small, knowing smile then spread across his startling red mouth. He tilted his head down almost gentleman-like, but the girl was hasty to catch his sparkling orbs under the heavily blinding lights of the dance floor. Her hand was grasped, quite abruptly, between his lengthy digits, and raised to his lips where a silent kiss was pressed to the skin.

His back was turned to her as he began dragging her to the dance floor. The girl blinked as he led her towards the mass of bodies wildly dancing. When he finally spun around and opened his arms, he spoke again.

“‘M name is Styles, by the way.” he grinned, dimples popping. “Harry Edward Styles.”


Harry didn’t comment on her name like she had childishly desired him to, but all her conflicted feelings seemed to disappear into the musky air when his hand pressed against her hip.

“Well, Miss Y/N. If yeh wanna dance with me, then a girl’s wish is my command.”

For a quick moment, her eyes fluttered shut, a breathy moan falling from her lips. She relished in the feeling of his clearly dominant hand on her delicate hip, his thumb rubbing flames into the flimsy fabric of her dull dress, far too aroused to even be excited. The man she had been watching for weeks was finally touching her, and it was nonsexual, but it’s really all she needed.

The hapless luck she found herself engulfed in was nowhere to be discovered as the band slowed to an older, slower song. It was a perfect song to dance to at a wedding or family reunion. It seemed unacceptable, even inappropriate to be swayed by Harry, who was the type to be disgusted by any notion of romance, yet his hands didn’t drop from her waist. She didn’t pull away from him either, instead opting to throw her arms around his neck.

“I’ve neva’ seen yeh here befor’,” Harry spoke, pressing the girl to his chest. She nearly moaned once more but humiliated from the first time, she bit her tongue.

“You’ve just never noticed me,” she boldly replied, shocking herself.

“Smart mouth yeh’ve got,” Harry noted, chuckling.

The woman’s voice at the stage hushed and the lights dimmed.

“I usually don’t speak to anyone. Dunno what’s gotten into me tonight,” the girl muttered disappointedly. Harry’s chest continued to rumble with laughter.

“Then wha’ is the special occasion tonigh’? Taken a fancy in me?”

His cockiness was evident in his smug voice. His hands were rubbing her lower back, a strong attempt to instigate the flow of hormones, deepened voice causing her jaw to clench.

“Wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” he insisted. “Jus’ say it. I already know wha’ it is.”

The girl fingered his collar gingerly with her index finger, feeling the soft fabric until her her digits touched his skin. The flesh burned her own but she made no attempt to halt. She hoped the rest of his body was just as soft.

“If you know what it is, then isn’t that enough?”

Harry didn’t reply but he didn’t stop dancing either. The girl in his arms swallowed thickly as the tension grew between the two and awkwardness arose.His fingers still rubbed her back and she still traced his collarbones.

“So yeh want to sleep with me, but yeh can’t look a’ me?” he demanded suddenly on cue when the song ended.

She hadn’t noticed her gaze wasn’t directed on him, preoccupied by the thoughts running through her head about the rest of his body under the dark suit and bowtie. She giggled as a response and jolted when the sound of the trumpet blared into their ears. Her hand slapped against her mouth.

“I didn’t even notice! I’m sorry. I really am! I was just thinking…”

“About wha’?” he narrowed his eyes.

She wondered if she should speak her vulgar thoughts aloud. In a haze of boldness and stupidness, she blurted it.

“About how you taste,” she admitted.

Harry stopped. His limbs were torn away from hers and his eyes intensified. She didn’t mean for it to happen but her panties slowly began to drench under his gaze. She evenly glared back at him. Without a further notice, he propelled her against his chest and dug a hand into her hair, swiftly tilting her head back. She could see the feet of the frantic flappers on the dancefloor and she thought he was about to snap her neck. He licked his lips and inhaled her scent before pressing a wet kiss to the base of her throat.

“Yeh smell like… flowers,” he mumbled against her skin which trembled happily under him. His tongue peeked out of his mouth, swiping just under her ear, a shudder breaking her bent figure. Before she could slam against the floor, Harry’s hands clasped behind her and forced her upright, flustered.

“Yeh ‘ere with anyone?”

It took a couple tries before she understood what he was asking and she muttered something about her blonde friend who seemed insignificant now. She wasn’t particularly useful at this exact moment. “Nobody important.”

The answer seemed acceptable to Harry, so he grinned lopsidedly and placed another kiss discretely under her jaw. He murmured, “So fuckin’ soft. Beautiful.”

Harry snaked an arm around her waist and littered more kisses on her neck before huffing and pulling her towards the exit of the bar.

It was simple finding a cab at this hour at night; they were perched by the curb, a cigarette dangling from the driver’s mouth. The pack of cigarettes in her own clutch now felt heavy with burden. The Blonde had stuffed a pack in her bag in case she needed to offer it to a man as a bribe to speak with her. Once Harry had slid in besides her in the back seats and given the lazy driver the address to his abode, she shakily reached into her bag and produced one.

“Would you care for a smoke?” she inquired as the car began to move.

Harry’s bottom lip disappeared into his mouth as his eyes darted from her beautiful face to the outstretched white stick. He reluctantly shook his head and sighed, “In the army…in the army we were trained t’ quit smoking. Said it would affect the way we fight. I hav’nt touched one since.”

A sigh of relief exhaled from the girl’s mouth. As the cab began, she tossed the pack of cigarettes out the window, praying someone healthy would not pick it up and use it to their disadvantage. Harry’s fingers drummed impatiently against his knee, and it carried on for far too long before he scooted over towards his girl and placed a hand on her thigh. He bent down and connected their lips quickly before she could stare at him quizzically.

The cab driver grunted in distaste but his mouth was heavy and hot on hers, forcing her tight against the window of the car. He tasted faintly of the drink he sipped innocently on the moment she laid eyes on him this night when she spotted him with the unfaithful woman. The mere thought of her ignited the fire in the pits of her stomach that ultimately caused her to wrap her arms around his neck once more and caress his bottom lip with her warm tongue. In response, Harry emitted a noise that made her shove her legs together, desperately hoping they made it in time to his home. She wanted to encourage more noises from him, somewhere from between his legs, but she held her lust off.

The cab driver coughed gruffly and glared at the two birds in the back, aggressively kissing on one another. He really didn’t get paid enough to endure this every night.

Harry broke the kiss first. “I must have yeh know, Y/N,” he gasped for air. “Never done this befor’.”

“Me neither,” Y/N muttered, eager to feel his tongue against hers again, placing her palms on either side of his head, curling his stray hairs with her manicured fingernails. He seemed to love it.

The cab driver coughed again, louder and angrily. Harry shot him a glance and knitted his brows together. “Got a problem do yeh? Don’t get any lovin’ at home? Probably not. How about yeh let me neck my girl and yeh can live your miserable fuckin’ life all…”

“I think we’ve arrived, Harry,” the girl gushed miserably, apologizing profusely to the driver. Harry rolled his eyes and shoved a hand into his jacket pocket, holding a wallet in his hand. He pulled out a crisp 5 dollar bill and handed them to the man. The driver squawked and grabbed it greedily, thanking Harry numerous times.

“For bearing the make out session,” he grinned and then gripped the girl’s hand, leading her to his home.

Harry was evidently wealthy but in a hushed manner. Immediately upon entrance, the girl noticed the neatness of the home. Harry shrugged off his coat and held his hand in front of him, waiting for the pretty girl to follow him inside. A chandelier hung from the ceiling of the foyer, polished wood beneath their feet. Her eyes widened immensely as she drank in his beautiful living room and grand staircase to the bedrooms, she presumed. There was no way this man lived alone.

“Yeh like it,” he said, amused.

“This is all yours?” Her expression resembles the cab drivers.

Harry nodded but then faltered. “Actually, I live with my mates. There’s 3 of them.”

Upon hearing this, the girl paled, glancing uneasily at the man who gazed down at her with his charming green eyes. His eyes were trained on her lips, almost fond over her, until he noticed her look. “But they’re not here! See—”

Then, he proceeded to call out three names, none of which she caught, and listened to his voice echo back against the white walls. He sent a grin to her direction and and tilted his head questionably.

The girl nodded and entangled their fingers bravely together, taking a moment to ponder about the length of his digits, before jutting her chin towards the direction of the stairs, almost as if asking for permission to roam his sanctuary. His thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist, a soothing gesture that should have calmed her burning skin but only added to her excitement.

His bedroom was different that she would have imagined. There was a guitar in the corner of the white room, a record player and black discs scattered around the room. Mortified, Harry stuttered to explain himself. “Didn’ except any girl’s up ‘ere tonight. Didn’ bothe’ cleanin’ up an’ all.”

The girl picked up one disc and inspected the cover. A haughty grin spread across her lips as she looked at Harry through her lashes, then placed the disc on the phonograph. The music erupted into the room and Harry couldn’t possibly be more humiliated, cheeks blazing red. “Bessie Smith? I took you for a jazz guy. But you’re just so surprising aren’t you?”

The curly haired man blinked slowly, as if he were in a trance. “Yeh know her?”

She nodded. “Of course. Only disc my parents own. All I listen to when I’m home.”

His hands pressed against her cheeks, murmuring, “I think I jus’ fell in love with yeh.”

His lips molded on hers, soft and sweet. There was no urgency, to hurry to remove each other’s clothes, but the lust was still prominent. His lips were warm as ever, something she’d never be able to forget. His hand shut off the phonograph, much to her dismay, and he must have felt her upsetting pout because he drew back and stared down at her with hopeful eyes.

“Keep her on.”

Harry laughed. “Yeh wanna listen to some blues while makin’ love?”

The girl shrugged, and looked eagerly around his colossal figure. “Have you got anything more…” she trailed off, unsure of what she yearned to listen to, a brief moment of deja vu to the beginning of the night

“Romantic?” Harry offered, bending to the floor, rummaging through his vinyls.

After a couple minutes of searching, he let out a noise of triumph from the base of his throat and held up a dusted record. He replaced Bessie Smith and patiently waited for the music to begin.

A soft piano filled the room, one that she recognized, but was distracted by Harry’s hands touching the peaks of her shoulders, rubbing the pads of his fingers on the soft skin. He muttered something about the music being perfectly aligned with the girl: gentle and relaxing. She’d blushed furiously.

Sprawled on the bed, Harry at her neck, she lifted her hips to earnestly touch his, rolling against the hardened bulge, eliciting a throaty groan from the the man. He invaded her senses, as well as he body, pressed her down onto the mattress, a hand on her hip to avoid her from running away from him.

His shirt was the first to leave as she disrobed him, throwing it somewhere on top of the black vinyls, along with her dress, eyes widening at the ink that littered his body. She traced a cursive letter just below his collarbones as he worked on providing her with delicious bruises on her skin. He momentarily lifted his head and whispered, “Gemma. ‘M sister’s name.”

He licked a stripe from her jaw to the base of her ear, a low moan falling from her lips when he bit down on her earlobe.

There had been other men who excited her so, but none treated her like this. Harry’s mouth was attacking her precious skin, yet his hands were rubbing the exposed skin of her back soothingly to assure her all was well. His swollen lips pressed once more, heavily, against the girl’s before shifting on his knees. His nimble fingers undid his belt quickly, tossing it on the floor, ready to pounce on the girl again until he head the sickening crack of a beloved vinyl.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, watching his horror filled expression. He struggled with deciding which was more important, the girl or the record he paid graciously for.

He rolled his hips against hers, puckering his lips, pressing wet, spongy kisses down her breasts, fingering the material of her baby blue panties. They were cute, he concluded, they were really cute and she was the cutest. Her bra was unclasped, his palms touching every inch of her chest, kissing and loving.

“Yeh taste so heav’nly,” he breathed in between her shallow moans of pleasure, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking softly.

Fuck!” she cursed, knitting her fingers into his hair, tugging harshly at the roots.

“Yeh like tha’?” he smirked, repeated the process to her other side. Unable to speak beneath the white pleasure he was providing her, she weakly nodded and leaned down for one more kiss. He complied, dragging her lower lip with his teeth, another moan rolling off her tongue.

The piano in the background had died off, and a new piece started, a slower ballad one, with more violins than the previous. As soon as the girl recovered, she laughed, “Debussy really gets me.”

“No,” he growled, obviously jealous. “I do. I did tha’ to yeh.”

“Right but Debussy still gets me.”

He rolled his eyes and latched his fingers onto her panties before halting. He looked at her with intense eyes, not from lust, but with fascination and gasped. “Yeh know him?”

Again, she nodded, perplexed by his interest in the music rather than the task at hand. “My favorite growing up.”

Harry’s face lit up. “Same ‘ere!”

The matter of music intrigued him more. Harry’s dominant aura broke apart as he scratched his shoulder thoughtfully and watched her carefully with narrowed eyes. She waited impatiently for him to touch her burning skin again, preferably her hips but the contact never came. Instead, Harry’s mouth opened to speak lovingly about the composer.

Strangely enough, he began toying with her hair, twisting the ends, running his hand through the roots. “Who else do yeh listen t’?”

The girl stared up at him incredulously. “What?”

He smiled innocently, shrugging. “Wanna know mo’ about who yeh listen t’.”

“But we’re making love!” she cried, sitting up. Harry’s eyes darkened once more as realization washes over his features. He waved a hand in the air dismissively, scrunching his nose as he crossed his legs in front of her, eagerly drumming his fingertips against his clothed knee.

“But I wanna know. We’ll do tha’ afterwards,” he said as if there were nothing wrong with it.

The girl just watched him in disbelief as he took it upon himself to list the composers and artists he found peace in and adored them to his heart’s content. He mentioned some artists that she knew and others she’d never heard of. At one point, he’d even gotten up to change the sides of the disc on the phonograph before sitting back in front of her. His eyes never left her shocked face but he paid no attention to either. Instead, he rambling on and on about music and not her.

He talked excitedly about jazz and his adventures involving jazz that had shaped his life. The girl eventually found his discarded shirt on the floor and buttoned it up, concealing herself from him.

Finally, she lunged forward and grabbing his hands roughly, bursting into a cry. “Is it me?”

Harry blinked unknowingly. His eyes softened at the girl’s watery features, her walls threatening to break. “Wha’?”

“You’re not sleeping with me!”

“I said afterwards, didn’ I?”

“I didn’t come here just to hear you talking about…about—”

His warm hands pressed to her face gingerly, shaking his head as she continued to blubber her words, one tear falling down her cheeks.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry. I didn’ mean to—”

“Do you not want me? I can leave if you want, Harry,” she sniffled, self loathe and insecurity returning. She should have known. She should have known she wasn’t his type. She should have known.

“I do want yeh!” Harry suddenly chuckled, dropping a heavy kiss to her mouth. “Brought yeh here, didn’ I?”

She nodded, but still looked skeptical. “So why aren’t we? I know I’m not very interesting…”

Harry continued laughing heartily, which irked the girl. He looked absolutely breathtaking laughing with immense vigor, she wanted to press her tongue against his dimples, but it annoyed her how much he didn’t care about her feelings.

“Why are you laughing?” she demanded, wiping her tears on his shirt’s sleeve. “It’s not funny!”

“It is though!” he grinned, pinching her cheeks. “Yeh’re so fuckin’ beautiful and ‘m happy about all this. I really am, kitten, the cutest girl I’ve ev’r met.”

“Then why are you—” she protested but Harry didn’t let her continue.

The green eyed man just continued. “Fo’ once, a girl has brilliant taste ‘n music an’ attracted to me! That never ‘appens. I’m jus’ thankful for it.”

The girl had reached a verdict. The man was insane.

She huffed stubbornly and sat up straighter. Her annoyance had reached a peak and she had enough of his childish games. So instead of convincing him with her mouth, she slowly slid a hand down to where her panties rested snugly on her hips, and snapped the band experimentally. Harry looked pained from where he sat across the bed on his knees, and the girl paid no mind as she slipped her hand beneath her panties, letting out the smallest breathy moan.

“Pet,” Harry said in a strangled voice. “Why are yeh doin’ this?”

Her middle finger rubbed her clit in a circular motion, wetness drenching her small panties even more. Her head was carelessly thrown back as she concentrated on showing the man that she in fact did not need him to receive pleasure. “Can’t wait. All you’ve talked about for the past fifteen minutes is jazz and I think I deserve some attention too.”

“Of course yeh do,” Harry groaned, a strand of hair falling into his eyes as he shuffled closer to the girl, touching her smooth legs gently. He grasped her wrist and slowly pulled her hand away from her own personal torture. Her digits were slick with her wetness; Harry drew them closer before engulfing his mouth over them, lapping and sucking her juices while she watched him with a stunned expression. He groaned, “So fuckin’ good ‘ere too. Can I get a taste, baby, just one taste.”

He pried her legs apart, grabbing her ankles and gliding her down the bed, the buttoned shirt she adorned leaving her stomach on display as Harry dragged her panties down.

“Daddy jus’ wants a taste of his kitten,” he mumbled against the soft skin of her thigh where he promptly left butterfly kisses. Her hands had returned to their rightful throne in his hair, messy locks and fingers.

“Yes,” she implored. “Kitten wants… daddy, taste please.”

Her mouth went slack as Harry hummed approvingly and pressed his tongue flat against her center, nose bumping accidently against her clit. His tongue retreated back into his mouth; eyes nearly rolling at the sweetness that she left on him, not hesitant to dive back into the haven. Although he didn’t need to, Harry licked his lips, gathered some spit, and dipped the tip of his tongue between her slick slit, eagerly lapping her up, occasionally biting the sensitive skin above her pleasuring muscle. She mewled and tugged on his hair so roughly, he believed he had lost a couple strands of his precious locks. Usually, he forbid the girls he slept with from touching his hair, but this girl was different. The pain made him excited.

Harry pulled his head up and grinned at her, lips still shiny from her juices. “Is daddy doin’ alrigh’ down ‘ere?”

The girl’s eyes had fallen shut, too engrossed by the tortuous mouth that belonged to Harry, but she managed to weakly nod back, lifting her hips readily. Harry licked around his mouth to emphasize how much he loved her taste.

“Yeh teased daddy, and he didn’t really like it,” Harry continued, using his free hand that wasn’t holding her hips down to trace her entrance. She gasped when he slid one finger into her warmth, groaning himself at the feel of her tight walls. “Daddy’s gonna punish you fo’ being so fuckin’ greedy.”

“Sorry, daddy!” she exclaimed as her body trembled with waves of pleasure.

“Sorry’s not gonna do it this time.”

Harry’s voice had gotten deeper as the strain in his pants grew more painful, arousal finally catching up to him. To think he would waste away this night talking about some artist he could only faintly recall now!

His hand lightly came down on the inside of her thigh as he continued to pump his longest finger in and out of her, causing a heavy groan to fall from her lips. Grinning at the perfect response, he smacked the skin harder, watching in fascination as his palm’s outline looked up at him mockingly. He assumed it hurt, he had gone so far with a woman, but the pretty girl’s head only rolled to the side, hips desperately lifting again, asking for more. He could only imagine what her tightness felt around his cock…

“Fuck tha’!” he groaned, leaning over to his side table to grab a rubber. She paid no attention to him as her eyes had scrunched closed again, moaning softly every so often. “Help me, please kitten.”

Y/N’s eyes immediately fluttered open and using the strength she had once Harry slipped out of her and she shoved her sweaty hair back. Once on her knees, she watched him discard him absurdly black dress pants and boxer briefs. If her mouth wasn’t watering already, it definitely was now. The thought of blurting out her initial motif was embarrassing, but she had to mention it to him. It wasn’t everyday someone hooked up with a man with a beautiful cock. “So pretty,” she gulped. “So thick and pretty.”

Harry swallowed a moan at her words. She lifted a hand to wrap around the base but he was quick to slap it away, sending her a warning look. “Not today.”

She nodded half heartedly before taking the condom from him, opening it with her teeth. She rolled it into his tip, along with his shudder, and rolled it down effectively down his length. Grinning with triumph, she laid back down and splayed her hair around her, holding her arms out for him.

Harry leaned down and bent his neck to feverishly kiss the girl’s reddened mouth, parting her lips easily with his warm tongue, while also rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. The final plead and whimper of “please daddy” that escaped her lips was the broken barrier between the two people. No longer were they strangers, whines falling from both their lips as Harry pushed in slowly, easily sinking into her.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, bunching the sheets in his fists besides her head, closing his eyes tightly. “So tight, kitten. So fuckin’—”

He was cut off by a sharp cry from beneath him, full of pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him and eagerly begged him for more.

“Yeh jus’ took me so well. Love, you’re so fuckin’ good to me!” he praised as fed her miniature thrusts, dipping his head down to linger in the middle of her chest, mouth hovering over her breasts. She mewled and opened up for him again, mouth slack, eyes clearly showing just how fucked out she already was.

Once he was incapable of restraining himself, he pleadingly asked permission softly from the girl who nodded honestly, tugging on his messy curls deliciously as she if had been taught to by someone. He began to feed her harsher thrusts, heavily breathing.

“Feel so good Harry!” she cried, clawing at his chest every few seconds before sliding them back into his hair. “So so good!”

“Tell me,” Harry demanded, the sounds of their bodies meeting together now audible. “Tell me how good I feel.”

Blinded by the pleasure, Y/N muffled her screams by biting in her palm, something Harry forced her to give up after the first time she’d done it. Instead of scolding her, he simply grasped her wrists and held them above her head. “Tell me, kitten. Tell me how good daddy’s fuckin’ yeh.”

“So big! Stretching me so much, biggest I’ve ever taken daddy, gonna make me cum so quickly.” The end of her statement turned into a hearty whimper.

For a moment, while the two gazed at each other in the eyes, they wondered if they were in love, but the thought was absurd, yet the pleasure so satisfying, that must have been it.

“Yeh’re gonna cum befo’ I do, go’ it? ‘S your reward for bein’ so good for me tonigh’.”

A high pitched yell came from the girl who lifted her body and pressed her head into the crook of Harry’s neck, whimpering against the sweaty skin. His hand released her from the incarcerating hold and wrapped around her back instead, relishing in the feeling of her breasts against his chest.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good,” she cried, body quivering. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum, Harry!”

Waves of pleasure brushed over her entire body as her back arched, a never before noise filling every inch of the room: a squeal and a scream mixed deliciously together which made Harry eventually lose his strong hold on himself, allowing release to wash over his tired limbs as well. The girl had shut her eyes for a final time, squeezing the base of his neck and instigated his release by meeting his hips every time he pounded into her. “So fuckin’ good,” she sniffled against him.

Harry didn’t want to let the girl down from his grip, only for her safety as she would be crushed under his weight. So he discreetly pulled out of her, and held her tightly in his arms until her breathing had return to a somewhat normal pulse.

“That was good daddy,” she whispered hoarsely, when Harry tilted his head to press a small kiss to her sweaty forehead, rubbing her hands across his chest, sinking her nails into his muscular form. “Worth the wait.”

Harry then laughed and unwound arms around her, letting her upper half torso hit the comfort of the sheets. With a scrunched nose, he pulled off the condom with a wet smack, tied it, and threw it into the direction of his waste. He sincerely hoped it fell in. “Yeh’re very welcome,” he grinned down at her, glancing around for his clothes. His boxers were laid neatly next to him which he hastily slid up his legs, watching the girl do the same with her panties. While he searched for the remainder of his tossed clothes, the girl observed his disheveled state, still so enthralling. She wanted to continue kissing and loving on him.

“Can’t seem to find m’shirt…” he spoke in a deep voice, but trailed off when his eyes caught onto the white button up she was still wearing. He smirked. “‘M gonna need m’top back.”

Y/N held the hem of the shirt up innocently. “This old thing? But I won’t have anything to wear. It’s too cold for a dress now.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, delighted that there was no awkwardness between him and his girl, unlike the multiple other girls. There was a definite chance, from the look on her cherubic face, to her beautiful mind that Harry had indeed fallen in love with the girl in one night. He sighed, traces of her still there on his tongue, and connected their lips effectively together, murmuring against her sinful mouth: “I’ll let yeh keep my shirt...if yeh tell me yeh fav’rite artists.”

a little bit home

the new klance content from sdcc made me really emotional so here’s THIS. 

The castle is quiet. It usually is, since it’s so vast that everyone has a considerable amount of distance between them. They’re all only connected by the alarm and intercom system that Allura uses to call them to dinner or training.

But ever since they returned with only four pilots instead of five, it’s been quieter. It reminds Lance of what it was like when his abuelo died; the heavy weight in the air that doesn’t leave any space for speaking, just silent mourning and the constant darkness.

Shiro isn’t dead. Lance feels it deep in his gut. And even if he was, the team isn’t any different than it was when Shiro was here. They still have to stick together.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

wait what does Rooney mean when she says "except you're the lucky one"? Did something happen to her/ the baby? I assume not since she seems fine and you've said that you would never hurt her but I was just wondering :) Love you <3

OMG no don’t worry, yeah she’s fine it’s just this baby has been very active lately and she wants them out lmao. that’s what she means by lucky, she thought this was it for her but it wasn’t so she’s like “oh great i guess i’ll just be a whale for another two months now”

Save Me (11)

Originally posted by yourbiaslikesitrough

Chapter1: Second Time? - Chapter 2: Awake - Chapter 3: First Love - Chapter 4: Mama - Chapter 5: Reflection - Chapter 6: Lie - Chapter 7: Stigma - Chapter 8: Begin - Chapter 9: Taken - Chapter 10: Torture  - Chapter 11: The Plan - Chapter 12: The Escape      

Jungkook x Reader

Mental Hospital AU


A/N: Alrighty! Here’s the next chapter to Save Me! We really hope you like it. It was fun to write! Just one more chapter and it’ll finally be done! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction. We did take their personalities and match as best we can with illnesses, however we do not claim that the boys from BTS have these mental illnesses! Also, we did as much research as we can on each disorder. We are not meaning to offend anyone who has these illnesses at all. ALSO, WE DO KNOW BTS CHANGED THEIR ENGLISH NAME TO BEYOND THE SCENE BUT WE’RE USING BULLETPROOF BOYSCOUTS CAUSE IT FITS THE STORY BETTER.
Trigger warning: Mentions of mental illness, hospitals, self harm, suicide attempt and abuse. Both Gaisho and I recommend, if you feel like you need to go to the hospital for ANY reason, please don’t be afraid to do so. It can help. If you EVER feel like you need to talk to anyone, vent, or need advice on anything, please do not hesitate to msg us! We’ve been through it all.

Character Descriptions:
Reader- Chronic Depression, Derealization Disorder and Dissociative Amnesia
Jin - Narcissistic Personality Disorder (With homicidal tendencies)
Suga- Narcolepsy and Chronic Depression
J-Hope- Bipolar II Disorder
Rap Monster- OCD and Paranoia
Jimin- Explosive Anger Disorder
V- Schizoaffective Disorder
Jungkook- Agoraphobia
Chapter 11:

        “Wait, I don’t remember what the plan is,” you look at Rap Monster with worry.

        He nods. “I understand. Why don’t the rest of you go back to your rooms and prepare for tonight. Y/N and I will talk about the plans.”

        Jungkook tightens his hold on your hand. “I want to stay too. Please.”

        Rap Monster smiles. “I kind of figured you would. That’s okay. Let’s sit.”

        You all say bye to the five boys and the three of you remaining sit. Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, making you blush. Even though you don’t remember him, you still get butterflies in your stomach whenever he touches you.

        “Now,” Rap Monster gets serious. “ As you know, the nurses come around every hour, on the hour to check up on us. Once the nurse passes every room, whomever room that is will sneak out to the rec room. We will meet at this table. That gives us an hour to set everything up. From there, Jin will be the one to receive the nurse’s badge so we will be able to get through the front door.”

        “How will he get the badge from the nurse? Don’t they always have them on a lanyard or something?” You cock an eyebrow.

        Jungkook chuckles. “The nurse that happens to man the front sort of has a crush on Jin. It’ll be easy for him.”

        “Yes. That shouldn’t be a problem. Once he gets the badge, we need a diversion for the rest of the nurses so they aren’t paying attention to the door. Jimin and V will make a scene, as if they’re having an episode.”

        You stare at him wide eyed. “Is that safe? I mean, they are two of the youngest, minus Jungkook.”

        Jungkook and Rap Monster look at you surprised. “Wait, you remember that?”

        You nod slowly. “Y-yeah, I guess I do.”

        “Do you remember anything else?” Jungkook asks hopefully.

        You shake your head, eyes downcast. “No, I’m sorry.” This makes Jungkook sigh.

        “Don’t worry about those two, they can handle themselves. Jimin wouldn’t let anything happen to V. Once the six of us get through the front door, J-hope will pull the fire alarm, which will alert the nurses and draw their attention to the hallway. That’s when Jimin and V will inject a sedative into the nurses, so they will be unable to come after us. And then all eight of us will be able to run out the door.”

        “Hmm,” you think about the ending of this plan. “If we pull the fire alarm, wouldn’t it alert the fire department and the rest of the building?”

        Rap Monster scoffs. “That fire alarm isn’t connected to any department. They don’t want anyone finding out about this place and what they do, so they wouldn’t risk it. And this building isn’t that big, I don’t think we’d have an issue.”

        You nod. “Alright. Then it sounds like a stable plan to me.” You take Jungkook’s hand and squeeze. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to go back to my room. I’m still confused about everything and I think I should rest for a bit before all this goes down.”

        Rap Monster nods in understanding. “I’ll see you both tonight then.” He stands up and heads back to his room.

        Jungkook stands and helps you up. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

        You nod and follow him back to your room. Once inside you close the door slightly. You both sit on the bed. Your head is lowered as you try to process everything that has happened. Jungkook looks at you with concern.

        “Hey. It’ll be okay. I know it’s been a… trying day, to say the least. But it’ll all be over soon.”

        He suddenly feels your body shaking as you hold your head in your hands.

        “I’m sorry I can’t remember anything. That I can’t remember you. You seem like someone who is important to me. And that I’m Important to you.”

        Jungkook takes a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down from a panic attack. He puts his arms around you. “It’s not your fault. Those fucking people did this to you.” Tears fall from his eyes. “They did this to me. We’re going to get out of here, I promise. I think you should rest right now. You have about three hours til all this starts.”

        You look up at him and nod. You lean forward and press your lips against his cheek. He smiles softly at you and heads back to him room.

        You lay back and think out everything that happened today. At least everything you can remember. But the only thing coming to your mind is pure agony and whiteness. And then all of a sudden your mind was blank.

        Trying to calm your trembling body, you close your eyes. You let the tears fall down your cheeks, staining the pillow. You cry yourself to sleep, hoping the nightmares don’t come tonight.

        “Y/N. Y/N. Wake up. It’s time to meet.” You hear a voice whisper.

        You sit up groggy, rubbing the blurriness from your eyes. “W-What time is it?”

        “It’s 11pm. It’s time to go.”

        You look over to see Jimin staring at you. Your eyes widen. “Crap! I’m sorry I didn’t hear the door open when the nurse came around.”

        Jimin smiles at you. “It’s okay. I know you’re tired from what happened. But we have to go now. The nurses just left. We have about 50 minutes to execute everything.”

        You nod and follow Jimin to the rec room. All the boys were gathered talking quietly. Jungkook perks up when he sees you and comes to your side.

        “Hey, how are you feeling?”

        You stretch to try to wake yourself up. “I’m okay. But I still can’t remember anything. I’m sorry.” You give him a sad look. He rubs your arm in reassurance.

        Just then Rap Monster calls for everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone it’s time to get to-” he pauses and looks around. “Wait, where the hell is Suga?”

        You glance around at everyone and notice you were missing a body.

        “Goddamnit don’t tell me he’s still sleeping too.” J-hope growls annoyed.

        “Shit. Well, someone is going to have to wake him up.” Rap Monster looks to everyone in the room. No one volunteers. “Well?”

        “You want us to wake up Suga? Does it look like we want a death wish?” Jin shivers at the thought of trying to wake up the sleeping monster.

        “Well we just need someone he can’t get mad at to go get him.” He looks to you. “Y/N, do you mind-”

        He notices Jungkook shake his head, eyes pleading with him not to pick you. He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight again.

        Rap Monster nods in understanding and looks to J-hope. “He has a soft spot for you, hope. Please go get him.”

        J-hope sighs and agrees, walking out of the room to go get the narcoleptic boy.

        “Now while he does that, Jin it’s time for you to work your magic on the front desk nurse.”

        Jin grins. “This’ll be a piece of cake. No one can resist me. I’m even sure Y/N has a small crush on me.” He winks at you.

        You rolls your eyes and Jungkook glares at the narcissist. “Just get going, will you?”

        Jin laughs, “I’m just joking. I’ll be on my way.” He heads for the door.

        Rap Monster sighs. “Well now that that’s taken care of-”

        “Um, Rap Monster?” You point towards the door.

        Rap Monster follows your finger to see Jin sending himself hand kisses in the mirror. Rap Monster groans. “Are you freaking kidding me Jin? Go!” He snaps.

        “Okay, okay geez. I can’t just pass a mirror and not look at myself.” Jin finally leaves the mirror and heads to the front desk.

        Rap Monster glares to himself. “That boy is going to be the death of me. Anyway, Jimin and V, get ready to start your diversion. The rest of us will head to Jin’s room closer to the door to get ready to leave. Once Jin comes back with the badge and the sedatives, that’s when you start.”

        Just then J-hope and Suga walk in. Suga groans and rubs his eyes. “You just had to send J-nope to wake me up. Did you know he was in an angry mood when he came in?”

        J-hope smirks. “Well, maybe you should have gotten up when you were supposed to. We wouldn’t have had this issue.”

        Rap Monster rubs his temples. “So far this isn’t going so well.”

        Suga rolls his eyes. “Let’s just wait for Jin to get back.”

        “Did somebody say my name?” Jin walks into the room.

        “Speak of the devil. Damn, that was fast.” Jimin mumbles.

        “Well, I am the amazing Jin after all,” he smirks as he swings the badge in his left hand and holds the two syringes in his right.

        “Oh good. On to the next part.” Rap Monster squints at Jin’s face. “Um, Jin, Why do you have lipstick on your mouth?”

        Jin gasps and quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oh, it’s n-nothing. Let’s get to my room so Jimin and V can start their thing,” he quickly changes the subject.

        You giggle at the antics of the boys. You turn your attention to Jimin and V, giving them both a quick hug. “Stay safe, please.” They both smile at you. You take Jungkook’s hand and follow the five boys to Jin’s room.

        Jin closes the door slightly, keeping the lights off. Suddenly you hear a crash and yelling.

        “THE VOICES. THEY WON’T STOP. PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP,” you hear V scream. It sounded so real that you almost ran out the room to help him. But you knew that it wasn’t.

        You all hear two sets of footsteps run down the hall towards the rec room. You hear more yelling coming from that direction.

        “Alright everyone, let’s get going.” Rap Monster looks around. His face scrunches in confusion. “Hey, where’s Suga?”

        You hear snoring coming from the bed. You glance over and notice Suga sleeping on Jin’s bed. J-hope growls. “Son of a bi- YOONGI-HYUNG WAKE THE FUCK UP.” He yells, causing Suga to jolt awake, almost falling off the bed.

        He glares at J-hope. “Alright alright I’m up. Sheesh.” He gets up and looks out the doorway. He nods as to say it’s all clear. All of you pile out of the room and turn to Rap Monster for instructions.

        “Okay. Now we need one person to go out there to make sure the coast is clear in the hallway.” Rap Monster looks to his group.

        You raise your hand. “I’ll do it.”

        Jungkook shakes his head. “No, you’re not. Someone else can go.”

        You glance at him. “Jungkook, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”

        He looks down, sadness flashing through his eyes. He knows your memories are still missing, but it still hurts that you’re not calling him Kookie anymore.

        Rap Monster nods and hands you the badge. You smile to him and head for the door. The badge scans and you open the security door. You disappear and the boys wait in anticipation. What they expected to hear was the sound of the fire alarm. What they didn’t expect to hear was you screaming.

        “Y/N!” Jungkook yells. He’s about to go after you when you come through the door. Although you weren’t alone. Right behind you was Dr. Seung Ho Choi, as he had your arms pinned tightly behind your back, between your body and his.

        Jungkook’s look of concern changes to one of pure terror. “Y/N! What the hell are you doing to her you sick fuck?” Jungkook growls.

        Dr. Choi smirks as he jerks you closer to him. You whimper in pain as his grip tightens. “You all thought you could escape me, huh? It’s a pretty clever plan you got going but it isn’t going to work. Well, at least not for her.”

        Rap Monster narrows his eyes, his fists clenched tightly. “What do you mean?”

        Dr. Choi laughs like a madman. “You all can leave, but this one stays.”

        Jungkook lunges for the Doctor but is held back by Jin. “How dare you! Let her go! She’s not staying with you!”

        Suga glares at the Doctor. “Why do you want her to only stay?”

        Dr. Choi grins a grin that could rival the joker’s. “Do you know how rare it is for someone with Derealization Disorder to come through these door? Not only that, but this one also has Dissociative Amnesia! I need to study her. She will be my greatest experiment!”

        Jungkook’s eyes widen. He struggles against Jin. “ GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Dr. Choi laughs, gripping so hard on your wrists you’re starting to lose circulation.

        “I don’t fucking think so!” You hear a voice from behind. Suddenly, the laughing stops and the grip on your wrists disappear. You hear a loud thump, making you turn around. You see the doctor laying on the floor, not moving, a syringe sticking out of his neck. You look up to see Jimin and V, Jimin’s face full of pure anger and resentment.

        You approach Jimin carefully, considering last time you went to him like this he cornered you. “Jimin, hey, are you okay?” The closer you get, the harder he starts to breath. ‘Crap, he’s having a panic attack.’

        “Y/N, I wouldn’t approach Jimin right now,” J-hope warns you. But you don’t listen. Instead you get closer to Jimin. Suddenly he lashes out, pushing you into the wall. The push causes you to hit your head so hard, you slump to the ground, blackness surrounding your vision.

        “Y/N!” Jungkook rushes over to you. He gently shakes you, to make sure you’re still awake. Once the black dots disappear, you look at the boy in front of you.

        “K-Kookie?” You say, still a little delirious.

        “I’m right here-” He stops. His eyes widen as he just realized something. “W-Wait did you call me Kookie?”

        Memories start flooding back to you. Arriving at the hospital, meeting the boys, Jin and Jimin going in for EST, you going to EST, and then you being tortured while Jungkook watches. You lunge at Jungkook and kiss him right on the lips.

        “I remember. I remember everything.”


reunion falls full script

so…. i think it’s about time to face the music that there is no way in Heck im ever going to be able to draw out all the stuff i have written for rfalls. i mean, there is boatloads of dialogue here. i dont even have the time right now to work on my own webcomic, let alone a fancomic. but i figure, hey, this silly little thing has a lot of fans, maybe they would appreciate seeing the drafts i had planned! and maybe they’d even like to take a crack at drawing some of it themselves!

and this isnt me giving up, either! i’d still really love to draw a ton of this. when i can find time, i’ll totally try! and i’m still going to finish sock opera and the backstory comic. but yknow. the people have been waiting long enough. so here’s a comprehensive list of all the notes and dialogue ive written so far, organized by “episodes”.

(it’s long. really freakin long)

Keep reading

saundrasays  asked:

Still taking drabble request? Can I have number seven filled?

7. “I almost lost you.”

The shrill shriek of the alarm pierces his eardrums, and Eggsy curses. The smoke’s clearing out now, with the burner turned off, but Eggsy’s still coughing into his fist, the remnants of it still sticking in his lungs and nostrils, as he looks around for the source. He hears pounding footsteps on the stairs, JB barking frantically, and shouts a reassurance before turning his gaze towards the ceiling, searching.

When his eyes zoom in on the round, white box, he snatches the closest thing that can be used as a stool—sorry, Harry’s newly-polished antique chairs—and hauls himself up, jabbing his finger on the OFF button four times.

To his relief, it shuts up—the one at his old flat didn’t stop until its batteries had been yanked out—and his glasses sitting on the counter chime. It’s Merlin, likely, since the smoke alarm is connected to Harry’s security system, which sends a signal to Kingsman if anything is tripped. Slipping on his glasses, Eggsy quickly reassures one of Merlin’s minions that they’re all right, that it was a harmless kitchen fire, and turns to Harry.

 “I almost lost you,” Harry breathes. “It’s all right, darling, it’s over now.”

Eggsy clears his throat, hopping down from the chair, and Harry turns, Mr. Pickle cradled in his arms, then coos a last reassurance before setting him down back on the mantle, ruffling the top of his head before coming into the kitchen.

Rolling his head, Eggsy drawls, “Nice to know that if the house was engulfed in flames, your priority would be a dog who is already dead instead of your boyfriend of two years.” And yeah, it would have been flattering—and more sensible—if Harry had ran towards Eggsy—or at least to JB, the actual living dog in the house. Eggsy crosses his arms, and that’s a signal for Harry to come closer and put a steadying hand on his shoulder, rubbing it slowly.

Harry gives him his be sensible look, with echoes of indignation. “Mr. Pickle is helpless.”

“And so is JB!” Eggsy points to the pug, who’s sniffing the air, searching for something edible that came out of this whole mess.

“JB is a smart dog,” Harry says, “and we have a dog door that leads to the back.”

“Harry,” Eggsy retorts, “the real question is…what about me? Knight rushing to save someone in distress—and you don’t deliver? That’s cold.”  

“Darling,” Harry says, with a patient look, “I know you can save yourself.” 

“What if I couldn’t?” Eggsy retorts, the corner of his mouth trembling. “What if the ceiling collapsed on me? Or the smoke got to me? Or if JB ran into me and sent me tumbling down that fucking staircase and I broke a leg?” 

“Somehow, I don’t think any of those scenarios would stop you, but,” Harry amends, “of course, I’d save you. I’d do whatever it took.”

The utter seriousness Harry projects into that statement has Eggsy giving up on the game. He gazes at the man who starts off each morning with a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead, who runs his fingers through Eggsy’s hair when he nods off during the commute between the manor and the shop, who always looks at Eggsy as if he’s last survivor of an obliterated planet. Harry will always be the man he loves, and Eggsy, with a start, realizes just that. Harry’s it for him. There’s no else, ever, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll make it official.

But for now, Eggsy steps forward and folds his arms around Harry, toes slightly rising to give himself a bit of a boost.

“Same goes for me, too,” Eggsy declares, then kisses him. “No matter what.”

Send me a pairing and a number, and I’ll write you a drabble


My last year and a half of college, I moved into a new apartment. The building was kind of funny-shaped, as it had one single hallway of apartments, and then two storefronts that had been converted to apartments that didn’t connect to the hallway, one of which was mine. (The fact that it didn’t connect to the hallway will become important later.)

Among my new neighbors was a couple who had a dog. 

Or a small horse.

Sometimes it was hard to tell.

Because this dog was a Pyrenees/Irish Wolfhound mix, which means it was a combo of these two majestic fuckers here:

He had a lovely poetic name that I could never pronounce, so much to his owners’ amusement, I called him Thor, because when he barked, it sounded like a thunderclap. We got along swimmingly over the weekend it took my parents and I to get me moved in. He loved bread and drooling on my jeans.

Sunday night before classes were supposed to start, at nearly two o’clock in the morning, I start hearing thunder.

And then I realize no, that’s not thunder, that’s Thor. 

And then I start hearing sirens.

And then my smoke alarm goes off.

You see, because my apartment was not connected to the main hallway, it also wasn’t connected to the main alarm system.

So when a couple of idiots in an apartment four doors down decided to dry a towel by draping it over a halogen lamp while they went out to a bar, I had no idea that there was a fire in the building except for Thor going berserk.

We all ended up standing outside in our pajamas, Thor contentedly drooling on my pants while I talked to his owners, until nearly five in the morning. Because while the fire department was putting out the fire, the apartment renters came back and drunkenly accused them of stealing stuff. And when the police came for that, they found nothing missing, but did find a big ol’ bag of meth lying out in plain sight. 

And when we were all finally allowed back inside, the building owner getting ready to chuck the two losers out, I gave Thor half a baguette (with his owners’ permission, of course). 

I figured for getting me out of a building fire and the night’s entertainment, he’d earned it.

Even if I did fall asleep in half of my morning classes.

The Joker x Harley Quinn - Mephisto: Part 13

Hiya guys! It’s me again. Just so you don’t know, this is part includes the last bit of the child’s story, so get ready to learn the little one’s identity.

 Sadly, due to my pc’s condition -still-, I am currently using a device that makes it a lot hard for me to use italic writing: so don’t be alarmed when you read the child’s story. And I will write the characters thoughts like ‘this,. So, enjoy.

WARNINGS: Ok I need a lot of warnings for this part, NSFW, smut, though it is more like a sex scene in a movie than downright porn, weird usage of grape soda, and lets warn you about a more important part, DOMESTIC ABUSE, sadness, horror, drugs, more sadness, p.s. I don’t know if it is scary since I can’t be scared of reading something even if it’s horror, AGAIN MORE SADNESS


The King of Gotham reached out for the handle of the door belonging to his purple Lamborghini, a grin adorning his face, to get his dear queen out of the car. Pulling the handle towards himself, the Joker opened the door and held out his hand for her; earning a flirty giggle from the insane Mephisto. As soon as she took his hand, the madman forcefully pulled her towards himself. A squeal escaped Harley’s mouth as she tripped on the long skirt of her red dress and fell forward, landing on the Joker’s bare chest.

She laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips on his. He kissed her back, savoring the warm and wet sensation on his lips; slipping his tongue in.

After a few passionate seconds; the Joker broke the kiss and placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her to the stairs going up to the majestic entrance of his mansion through the pathway surrounded by trees.

The building was located in the outskirts of Gotham. A forest consisting of larches was surrounding it, making it almost unseeable to the outsiders. Of course; the Clown Prince of Crime rarely chose to spend his nights here, as he always had some mischief to cause somewhere in Gotham, which needed him to have multiple hideouts in the city. The only times he got to stay in this luxurious residence were the times he waited for everything to cool down. Like, when he got out of Arkham; or blew up the national bank… the time when those commoners would be keyed up, waiting for his next move. The Joker would make them wait on purpose, just to raise the level of psychological torment of being the prey.

Above all, this was the mansion Harley brought him after she had broken him out from the Arkham Asylum. A memory the Joker did not remember, mostly because he was drugged as hell by the same woman. This intrigued him in a different way, he wanted to see how this woman did business. Not only she had found his main hideout, she also knew that was the place he would have to stay after a breakout from Arkham. He unconsciously eyed the woman walking beside him as he couldn’t help but smile, ‘You really know everything don’t you?’

The Joker leaned towards the intriguing woman as he got his lips closer to her ear, and whispered: “I really hope you weren’t bugged this time. I have still got that itch to scratch.”
Harley grunted in annoyance: “I’m not. I’ve double-checked myself and double-threatened Harry. He wouldn’t dare to interrupt us this time.”

The Joker chuckled as he chimed, “Well, you’ve managed to get rid of him while coming to the club; a small bug isn’t that important…” They stopped in front of the entrance of the mansion, as the Clown Prince of Crime’s childish behavior suddenly turned into a cunning one. “…I was planning on strip searching you myself anyway.”

Harley giggled in delight, “You’re always so skeptical Mr. J…”

They heard multiple cars’ engines roaring as they entered the mansion. Frost and the other henchmen who had beeen escorting them from a safe distance had arrived. Even when they had been on the road, Frost was extra careful to not to approach to his Boss and his lady too much;  not leaving them without any guard as well; for he knew Boss wouldn’t tolerate any interruption during his private moments with the goddess of assassins. With a single movement of his hand, the goons came to a halt, waiting near the cars patiently. They all knew they were waiting for the King and Queen to go upstairs, where all of them except Frost was forbidden to go.

His hand on the small of Harley’s back, the Joker escorted her through the halls soaked in gold and sprinkled with gems. Together, they climbed up the wooden stairs, embroidered with golden ornaments of harlequins and jesters.

The end of the stairs was opening to a giant lobby, furnished with dark purple leather seats, a plain grey carpet and three gigantic hyper realistic paintings hanging on it’s cream-colored walls. The paintings might had been looked like photographs for an unknowing eye, but Harley knew it was otherwise. The first painting was of a little girl, holding a gun which was too big for her hand, while pointing it upward. The second was of a young boy, who seemed to be praying to the Donald Duck figure floating on his bed while he crouched near it. The third one, Harley knew, was a self-portrait of the artist himself; screaming through the breaking glass as half of his head was covered in bandages, the tines of two forks pricking his eyes out.

“You love Gottfried Helnwein too, huh?” muttered Lady Snowblood, just when the Clown Prince of Crime was about to proceed to the door at the end of the lobby. The Joker threw a surprised glance at her: “You know him?”

“Yes. Actually, he’s my favorite artist. Too bad I couldn’t see these when I came here before, it must probably be because I entered your room from the window.”, she muttered.

“Ha!” laughed the madman. “He’s one of my favorites as well.” he exclaimed as they passed through the artworks, stopping in front of the door at the end of the lobby. The door had a hand-print scanner attached to it. Harley glared suspiciously at the security device and smirked: “Well, that thing doesn’t worth a penny when your enemies know how to climb a damn window.”

“For your information milady,” mocked the Joker. “That window also was tightly shut, designed to be opened only from the inside and had a titanium shield covering it; as well as being connected to a deafening alarm system.” he listed as the door opened. He stepped back and held the door out for her, as he curtsied dramatically with a sarcastic grin plastered on his face. As Harley passed by him, he leaned on her ear slightly and whispered: “That enemy must be very eager to enter my bedroom if she is willing to struggle with a window that much.”

Lady Snowblood playfully bit her lower lip and eyed the man slightly, before turning towards him and trapping him between her body and the jambs of the entrance. “Although I must admit I was quite eager puddin’…” she giggled, as her hand slowly went down; stroking the bulge on his pants playfully. “I didn’t struggle at all, you know I have my ways.”

“Oh, I know you have your ways darling…” the madman purred, sliding his body away from hers, easily getting away from her grip. “But you must know that I have some ways to punish a person who blows up my windows.”

He quickly linked her arm with hers, squeezing it tight; while she squeezed his back. “Oh goodie, I like the way that sounds.”, she chimed and rested her head on his shoulder as she snuggled to him closer.

The room they entered was a king suite, the bedroom of the infamous Clown Prince of Crime. It was connected to the office of his, the place his formidable ideas were notoriously created. The luxury which the rest of the mansion possessed, wasn’t fit to hold a candle to the flamboyance in that suite. The walls were cream colored, with black colored “HA!“s scattered hither and thither. A king size bed with satin purple covers was standing with all it’s glory, just right beside the window in question; which was opening to a grand terrace. There was a golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which wasn’t doing any kind of work to lighten the room at that moment.

The red and yellow colors dancing in the fireplace were doing it’s work temporarily. A toxic green leather sofa was placed by the fireplace and between them, laid the come-hither bearskin rug. There was a wooden bucket filled with ice and multiple bottles of grape soda near the rug. Harley gazed at the scene and smirked, “Well aren’t you a romantic, baby?”

She kicked her heels off and sat on the fluffy rug. The Joker followed her and did the same, sitting right next to the bewitching Mephisto, leaning on the leather couch behind him. He took the two bottles of grape soda and handed one to her as he downed a huge nip. “Where does Edgar think you are right now?”

“A mission in Boston.” whispered Lady Snowblood and took a sip, licking her lips after.

“Good.” growled the King of Gotham. “I’m not planning to release you for a while.”

Harley giggled and snuggled towards the madman. He pulled her in his embrace as she whispered in his ear, “Tell me puddin, does it always feel this good to be your prisoner?”.

The Joker purred, sending shiver down to Harley’s spine; “Only for you my harlequin…”

Their lips instantly collided and their movements started to become more like their heartbeats: fast and filled with pure lust. Their tongues tasted the grape juice and longing in each other as they fought for dominance: Harley passed her fingers through the Joker’s green hair, pulling them harshly, making him throw his head back with a grunt; exposing his neck to her. Her lips brushed his alabaster skin before she started sucking, placing sulphureous kisses on his neck, aiming to give him a hickey. The Joker placed his hand on her hips, pulling her towards himself as his hands moved down to grab her by the thighs, pulling her on his lap. After a harsh slap which made her squeal on her behind, his hands moved upwards; one held her golden locks away from her back while the other unzipped that maddening red dress of hers.

She lifted her face up from his neck and smirked. The top of the dress fell down loosely from her shoulders. Harley quickly freed her arms from the tight red velvet and stood up from his lap agilely. She swayed her hips left and right as if she was dancing to an inaudible beat, letting the fabric slide down her curves. She winked at the Joker when the dress fell down completely, earning an impatient growl from him.

The madman eyed her dazzling body in black lingerie and downed the rest of the grape flavored drink completely. Harley giggled, throwing her hair on her shoulders and reached back to the clasp of her bra. The Joker growled impatiently again and grabbed his cane laying beside him. He held his cane out and propped the handle of it on the seductive Mephisto’s loin. He forcefully pulled her towards himself before she unclasped it, like he did to get her off the stage. Harley fell on him, a quick yelp escaping her lips, before she settled on his lap once again.

The madman laughed at her surprised expression and pulled her face closer towards his, grabbing her chin. Harley started grinding on him as their lips met, feeling him grow even stiffer in his pants. She smiled into the kiss as he started purring. Oh how much she loved to tease him! Although her lips parted with his, she continued tracing his addictive skin down with wet kisses while continuing to grind on him. She planted a kiss on his jawline, before tracing his neck again. She bit his collarbone, earning a hiss from the madman as another slap landed on her behind. She giggled and slowly started taking his shirt off as her tongue started swirling on her chest. His shirt was already nearly unbuttoned, but she couldn’t resist the urge to tear the buttons apart completely. The silk fabric slid off the Joker’s muscled shoulders easily after that.

As her lips’ soft brushing danced on every part of his naked chest, she slowly slid off his lap and placed herself in front of him, on her elbows and knees. She struggled with his belt buckle as her tongue traced the line between his abs, going downwards. Harley unzipped his pants and reached under the two coats of fabric. The madman threw his head back as her hands wrapped around his stiffened member. He started caressing her hair as he purred, synchronized with each stroke she gave him. She giggled at his reaction and planted a soft kiss on his foreskin as she reached towards her bottle of grape soda. While still being propped up on her elbows, Harley sloppily attempted to drink it; pouring it on both of them in the process. “Oops, sorry puddin…” she giggled, looking at the madman innocently.

The madman chuckled at her theatrics and reached forward to caress her cheek. “Oh my, aren’t you a freaky one pumpkin?”

She giggled in response, licking his soda covered shaft from bottom to top in one swift motion.

The Joker held his breath uncontrollably as he felt Harley’s lips closing around himself. He held her head by her hair as she started moving her head back forth. The madman purred as he felt her tongue swirling around him. His purrs made Harley shiver to her core and she picked up the pace, taking him balls deep, eager to get more sounds out of him. Without any theatrics this time, Harley took the bottle of soda and poured the rest of the drink on him; before continuing to work her tongue on him even faster than before. After the Joker’s purrs slowly started to turn into fierce growls, she moaned and playfully grazed her teeth on his member; slightly biting the tip before she continued.

She yelped as the madman suddenly tugged her hair back, making her rise her head up. The Joker was quick to grab her by the chin, pulling her on his torso. He then rolled over in a swift motion and trapped the Mephisto of his between his chest and the bearskin rug.

He kissed her then, unclasping her bra and before throwing it god-knows-where. His hand grasped her breast as his lips lingered on the sweet spot on her neck while his mouth moved downwards. When the Joker’s hands found her hips, his started wandering on her breasts, instantly finding her nipple. He bit her hard like she did to him, earning a yelp from his Harley. He tasted the small drop of blood he had drawn from her sensitive skin, before he continued sucking.

This was just like the dreams the Joker had before. Her heavenly figure under his hands, his figure under her devilish gaze… Though this time, the intoxicating scent filling his nostrils and the soft whimpers filling his ears were very real and true.

He planted a soft kiss on her belly, gazing at the temptation of red and yellow lights taking over her soothingly creamy skin. After his face was lowered enough to level with her hips, the madman tugged the side of the remaining part of the lingerie with his teeth like he did in the dreams of his; never breaking eye contact with his Mephisto.

Harley raised her legs up a little bit, as the lace piece slowly slid through them, going down to her ankles. Still holding the fabric between his teeth, he harshly tugged it off and threw it away; before settling himself between her legs.

Harley placed her thighs on the madman’s shoulders and couldn’t help but shiver, feeling his hot breath lingering on her throbbing core. Their gaze interlocked for a second, before a vulgar growl ripped from the back of the madman’s throat.

Soon, his mouth was on her womanhood, his growls slowly turning into pleasant purrs. Lady Snowblood’s body twitched from the vibrating sensation, making the Joker’s grip get tighter on her hips as she whimpered, earning a slap on her behind by the madman. His tongue moved around, drawing zigzags on her clit. He removed his right hand away from her hip and inserted one finger in her, working it around. Harley couldn’t help but let a trilled moan out. The Joker inserted a second finger as well and without moving them around, he started to slowly make in and out motions, tormenting Harley as she started twitching under his touch, begging for more. The madman did nothing but giggle at her desperate begs. He quickened the movements of his tongue and she softly started to caress his now messy hair, as the madman continued to eat her out voraciously while fingering her. He slowly picked the pace, earning more moans from his Harley.

When the Mephisto’s moans started turning into ferocious grunts which she could not fully let out due to the strain formed in her throat’s muscles, the Joker suddenly pulled away from her.

Harley whimpered with dissatisfaction, longing the hot feeling of his touch on her skin.  But almost instantly after that, the Joker was on top of her again; this time, their eyes on the same level. Their foreheads touching; although their lips were dangerously close to each other, they didn’t kiss. They just stopped for a brief second, their breaths getting even more heavier than before; as Harley threw her arms around the Joker’s shoulders, feeling his hot member on her pelvis.

Their gaze interlocked and they both held their breath as he slowly entered her, their muscles straining at the impact of the vertiginous sensation. The Joker, surprisingly, gave her some brief seconds to adjust to him; but as soon as he got the signal to continue, he took Harley’s breath away, starting to pound into her. Harley’s walls clenched around him even more as he started to move faster. His movements were stern and rough; Harley had tears swelling up in her eyes. The Joker’s grunts were mixing with her loud moans. She was holding onto his body like he was the last piece of wood in the vast ocean, the only thing that could possibly save her from drowning.
The Joker lifted his head up, separating their foreheads and kissed her before burying his face in her neck, biting her hard. He slowed down for some brief seconds for he felt her muscles clenching around him even more. “You…” he pounded into her again. “…can’t…”, he grunted. “…come…”, he bit her ear. “…before I tell you to do so.”, he inhaled her scent for a moment as her moans turned into silent whimpers. She nodded, agreeing, trying to catch her breath. He kissed her neck multiple times before putting his forehead on hers one more time.

He returned to his rough way again straight after and the Mephisto’s whimpers turned into a mixture of moans and screams, which only made his movements quicker and harsher. One of his hands reached down and started rubbing her clit. Harley buried her face in his shoulder to silence a moan and planted kisses on his jawline after. Their grip was growing tighter on each other as the seconds passed and they knew they were both their limit.

Harley shut her eyes tight as she hissed through her gritted teeth, “Daddy… I…”

That word and her walls clenching around him made the Joker’s movements get sloppy. Harley opened her mouth to let out a scream as she came but choked on it, she just stiffened in his embrace and shivered as he grunted, following her; loosely resting his left cheek on her right one as he moved slowly inside her, feeling her throb around his shaft. Harley felt him coming in her and slowly caressed his hair, waiting for him until he recollected himself.

The Joker then rolled over and collapsed right next to her, both of them trying to catch their breath. They looked at each other as Harley spoke first, giggling. “Wow…” she mumbled. “That was…”

“Wild.”, the madman continued, looking at her with a smirk plastered on his face. Harley giggled, “Yes, daddy…”, she winked at him and planted a quick butterfly kiss on his lips when he started purring again. She stood up in a swift motion before he was able to catch her; holding her hair away from her face. Kicking her black high heels out of her way, she had just started heading to the bathroom when all of a sudden, she stopped and turned her head towards the madman.

“Care to join me for some more fun puddin?” she chimed playfully.

“Oh, pumpkin…” the Joker sang, gazing at her heavenly form, “I am definitely not insane enough to turn down that offer.”

And the King of Gotham stood up, taking his pants off completely as he followed his Queen to the shower, long red nail-marks distinguishable on his tattooed back.


It had been five hours since the beautiful woman known as the night had worn her black dress. It’s pitch back color was blocking the rays of sun from lightening the streets. And the moon wasn’t there to help that day, since the woman known as the night had chosen to not to wear her pendant for some reason.

But it was still fine, the child could still see the path with the help of the dim lights emanating from the street lamps. It didn’t feel as safe as the sunlight, but it would have to do. No, the child needed the sun for another reason; a reason bigger than the darkness.

The cold.

With nothing but gossamer pieces of clothing on, the little one had been wandering through the streets of the neighborhood alone for nearly the whole day. The choice of not returning to the house was becoming more impossible as the seconds passed, but the five year old did not want to make the critical decision of turning back.

‘You were always destined to turn back from the start…’, the voice echoing in the little mind spoke. ‘You just don’t want to be a quitter.’

The voice was right, there was no way a five year old could strive in these streets alone. The child was shivering from the cold, hadn’t drunk or eaten anything since the night before and the fact that the house wasn’t that far away made it even more irresistible to go back.

And it was scary outside, the fact that there could have been even more dangerous creatures than the “it” lurking around made the child feel nauseous.

It was mandatory to go back that hell.

Sighing, the little feet turned back and started running towards the house where all of the nightmares were born. 'I won’t stay…’, the child thought. 'I will just grab some food and clothes without waking them up.’

Passing through the streets, only one threat was still lingering around the child’s head: the “it”.
He usually invaded the house at night and if he caught his runaway offspring the consequences wouldn’t have been pretty. Nevertheless, the child continued to run; it was not like there was a chance of staying outside that hell. If there was, all of the siblings would had done it by that time.

As soon as the roof of the house was visible to the eye, the child stopped running. Instead, walked slowly; for preventing anyone to notice the unfamiliar movement in the neighborhood.

Tiptoeing towards the garden door, the child realized it was impossible for a person in this size to open the door by themselves. The heavy door could creak and waste every struggle of staying quiet as well.

So, instead of passing through the entrance, the child climbed up the cold bricked wall. It wasn’t as hard as it looked, but coming down wouldn’t have been that easy. Holding the edge of the wall, the little figure jumped and hanged from the edge of the wall. Careful to not to make a sound, the child dropped onto the smooth surface of wet grass, tiptoeing towards the back of the building to find an open window from which one can sneak in after standing up.

The child knew there was an open window, because big sis always slept with her window open. The child reached to the back of the house, praying while looking around to find where big sis’ bedroom was. Seeing the window wasn’t closed, the little one squealed in delight: now all that was left to do was to sneak in without waking big sis up.

The window was quite high, but not as high as the wall that had just been climbed. Jumping as high as possible, the little one held onto the windowsill and pulled the small body up. After throwing the right leg in the room, the child pushed the little weight forward.

But the force applied was apparently too much.

The child fell forward with a loud thud, crashing onto the wooden parquet head first in the process. Moaning in pain, the small hand rubbed the little head as the child grunted and wobbling, barely managed to stand up. The little one had to wait for the dizziness to go away for a few seconds.

It was then when the child remembered that it was dangerous to make any noises.

Panicking, the horrified eyes started searching the room for any person who noticed the existence of their sibling; though there were absolutely none. Big sis wasn’t in the room. The child bent down and looked under the bed, just for insurance. She wasn’t there either.

Then where was she?

The impact of the realization hit the child like a brick as the small frame froze while looking at the empty bed of big sis.

There could be a few reasons why she wasn’t there. She could be in the toilet, or she had been thirsty and went downstairs to grab some water. Both of those possibilities were very slim since the children of the household were always forced to be extra careful about the times they left their rooms. The “it” could enter that house at anytime and no one would have wanted to be the first person he came across under no circumstances.

The other possibility was that she was hiding. Hiding with the other children, from the “it” himself. The child couldn’t hear mommy’s screams, that probably meant the “it” had already started looking for them. The game of hide and seek had already begun.

Just to be sure, the child exited big sis’ room to look at big bro’s. Much to the child’s dismay, big bro was nowhere to be seen as well. Then that meant it was dangerous to be alone at that moment. Wanting to find where the others were, the child stepped into the empty hall. This time the little one knew where to start: the baby’s bedroom.

Passing through the red carpet covered halls, the child was all ears in case of an emergency. The baby’s room was upstairs, so the little feet headed towards the stairs; scared the wooden parquet might creak any time. As soon as the first step was taken, a blood curdling creaking sound echoed through the halls; making the child freeze abruptly. Thinking that the “it” had probably heard it and was getting closer anyway, the child immediately started running up the stairs. After the little one finally made it to the second floor without getting caught, the little one’s ears were pricked up; knowing the “it” probably was heading towards the staircase.

The child quickly proceeded to wobble towards the baby’s room, but realized something was off.

There was no sign of the “it”.

That monster usually couldn’t walk straight, for someone who was that sloppy he was awfully quiet that night. Suddenly, the reason dawned on the child.

'He is waiting for me somewhere.’

Tiptoeing on the soft carpet, the child approached to the baby’s room, shivering in fear. It’s door was closed and not a single sound could be heard behind it. The child propped the little ear on the wooden surface and listened… everything… which was nothing.

Faintheartedly, the child’s hand clutched around the metal handle as it was pushed down. The door slowly opened, quietly creaking as the little one looked around for anything out of ordinary in the ink dark room.

The only reason one could see anything in that dark mess was the dim light emanating somewhere from the street through a small window. Thanks to that dim light, the crib of the baby was partially visible. In the crib, one could notice an odd silhouette. The child thought it was the sleeping form of the infant at first, but quickly changed the absurd thought; as the smudgy form of darkness laying on the mattress was a little odd to be of an human child’s. It possibly was a heap of clothes, scattered around in the crib.

The child looked around to see any clues pointing to the siblings’ presence in the room though, there weren’t any. 'Then…’, the child wondered. 'If they’re not here, where are they?“

The little body turned around to face the wide open door, aiming to exit the overly dark room to find the other children.

It happened right then.

Suddenly; a small, round object was thrown at the little one’s arms. With a quick reflex, the child caught it; wrapping the arms around the round object. It was impossible to deduce what it was in a darkness like that one, but the child didn’t care about the object at that moment.

The place where it was thrown from was far more concerning.

The frightened eyes opened wide when the door moved. A nerve racking creak resounded in the room as blood curling giggles filled the child’s ears. It wasn’t necessary to lift one’s head and look, in order to know who awaited behind that door. Now that the mysterious identity of the person who had thrown the object was solved, the child was more interested in what the object was. The round, warm… and slightly wet object.

The sudden impact of a strong beam of light, hit the child right in the eyes; stopping the little fingers’ quest to identify the round thing under them. The child’s eyes were squinted as everything was lost in a mass of whiteness for a couple of seconds. When the eyes finally got used to the luminescence; the child distinguished the "it"s figure, sticking out his head from behind the door as he chuckled at his offspring’s helplessness. He held a torch in his right hand while he was pointing it at the little one; laughing like the high madman he was as he started to turn it’s switch on and off intermittently, making the light flicker on the horrified face.

The flickering beam of light kept the child’s attention on itself, until the hypnotized eyes noticed the thing he held in his other hand.

There, he had grasped a bloody kitchen knife by it’s handle.

Gasping, the child faintheartedly looked at the round object as the little hands started shaking, afraid the things that would have been seen.

The thing the little one saw was a nightmare come to life.

Frozen look, red stained wet skin, stopped movement and unbearable silence… those things were what the object was. The child, still clutching onto the warm and wet bundle, turned towards the silhouette on the crib; now, under the light of the torch, saw the red stains. That thing was indeed a human baby, the only reason the child thought it couldn’t be was…

The fact that it didn’t have a head.

As everything downed upon the child, a lamentable shriek erupted from the small mouth. As the round thing fell onto the parquet, a loud thud was heard.

That thud was the thing that brought the child back to life and without thinking, the little feet sprang forward to flee away from the room. The "it” swung the blade in the air as the child was about to escape, creating a deep slash on the narrow back. That didn’t effect anything, since the child was unable to feel anything at that point. Screaming, the child fell down the stairs. A cracking sound resonated through the house, but the child didn’t feel it, couldn’t see a thing and didn’t hear anything but loud whimpers. The only image that could be seen was the baby’s frozen look on it’s eyes, still lingering in the little one’s mind. The only thing that could be felt was panic. The only way to stop the whimpers was beating the panic and frankly, that was not going to happen.

The child stumbled through the halls of the first floor, having a hysteria attack, having no idea where to head. The monster was close, still giggling and the child knew there was no escape this time.

He was going to have some fun.

The little feet stumbled on the carpet, as if everything was nothing but a horrible dream. As the whimpers slowly started to die down, one could hear the giggles getting closer. The child didn’t have any power left in the legs and the eyelids were slowly closing.

'Come on, you can’t faint now…’

 But the child collapsed. Not due to losing consciousness, no… but due to tripping on something.
Looking at the thing blocking the hall, a sob escaped the little one’s lips.

There, lied down the lifeless body of mommy. Her hair scattered around and her clothes torn here and there, she looked more pitiful than she had ever been before. The child’s attention was caught by the deep slash on her throat, where her blood stopped oozing from long ago. A pool of dried blood had formed around her, emanating a nauseating smell. Through her torn shirt, the child distinguished the handle of her butterfly knife; though not a single drop of blood was staining it.

'Even when he was slaughtering your children, you just couldn’t bring yourself to harm him, could you?’

Taking the butterfly knife with shaking hands; the child ran away then, without sparing another glance at mommy. Heading towards the living room, the little one was clueless about what to do. Maybe it was possible to flee from one of the windows there before the “it” had even more fun.

But as soon as the child took the first step into the living room, all of the possible plans of escaping were erased from the horizon.

It was mommy’s knitting kit, the bag had fallen down, the contents inside scattered on the floor. Big bro was lying near the contents, a visible slash on his cheekbone, bleeding from his head; as his eyes were wide open. A little amount of blood could be seen on the corner of the table as well. On the grey sofa near him, someone else -big sis- looked like she was sitting. But her eyes also were wide open and she moved no more. The child, world spinning around the little head, approached to big sis’ body. Then saw it.

A knitting needle was stabbed through her neck. Not “on”, but “through”.

The child couldn’t resist the shock anymore. Screaming, the small frame collapsed on the knitting kit’s pieces. Some of them pricked the sensitive skin, drawing a little amount of blood. But neither the pricked skin, nor the broken bone or the deep cut on the back could separate the child’s eyes with big sis’ wound. While still sobbing, the “it"s raspy voice was heard:

"Oh don’t be so surprised my birdie… What? Did you really think I wouldn’t punish everyone who let my successor get away? Put the empire I built at risk?”

'They’re dead because of me…’ thought the child, mentally in pain. 'If I didn’t escape, they…’

Finally remembering the “it” was coming close, the child ducked behind the sofa; some of the pieces of the kit rolling towards the child along with it’s body. The child heard footsteps coming closer, as the monsters’ voice filled the room.

“I am starting to think that even you are not worth of my time birdie…” he sang as he twirled the knife around in his hand. The child felt the butterfly knife get heavier in the little hand’s grip as the “it” approached to the sofa, whistling. He already knew his offspring hid behind it. He wanted to play with the child a little.

All of a sudden, a silver light flew past his ear.

The “it” slightly jumped in terror, looking at the butterfly knife struck in the wall behind him, dumbfounded. After looking at the knife which had almost killed him for a few seconds, he cracked up. Holding his stomach, the “it” started laughing like a maniac; god knows why.

Freezing behind the sofa, the child knew it was done. The only weapon that could be used to defend the little one against that monster was thrown away. It didn’t even manage to cut his skin a little. The child shivered in fear, at loss of what to do next.

The madman chuckled as he stumbled towards the sofa, where his daughter’s corpse sat on with a knitting needle in her neck. He could smell the five year old’s fear; he could hear the clinking sound of the glass bottle holding his offspring’s sanity, wobbling on the edge of the precipice known as madness, ready to fall just with a little push.

So he started singing, making up the words; he had heard his late wife humming this melody before to the children; probably a sweet memory for them. The “it” would make sure that wouldn’t have been the case anymore.

There was a little birdie always wanting to fly,
So it jumped from a tree that was way too high.
When the next day came and the animals looked around,

 They found little Harleen bleeding on the ground.

Something snapped right then, in little Harleen’s mind. Her silent whimpers died down, the trembling in her hands stopped, the tears flowing down her puffy cheeks started to dry. She didn’t try to run away, though she didn’t continue staying behind that sofa. She just abruptly stood up and came out from the place she had been hiding. Standing right next to her sister’s corpse, she faced her father.

The man who she had thought 'was’ a terrifying 'ghoul’ which visited their house to haunt them every night, rather than her 'father’; looked at his creation in the eye. He’d be proud of the state she was in normally, but his drug induced mind and her hatred towards him didn’t allow him to do anything but kill her. He had tried to change Harleen before, make her like himself. He’d injected tormenting drugs into her body; including one which was used in World Wars, to permanently damage the mind of the enemy’s soldiers by pain, in order to obtain more information from them. The soldiers whom were given this injection were far from being able to control what they said or did, turning them into human puppets.

When he injected this drug he obtained to little Harleen; she screamed in pain, obviously, the drug was doing it’s job.

But instead of turning into a puppet of the madman; the girl became violent, almost like a wild animal, attacking everything on her way. She was not giving in, she could not be controlled.

That wobbling bottle was never going to fall into that precipice known as madness like he wanted it to.

But the “it” hadn’t realized that something snapped in Harleen seconds ago. Her long and curly hair disheveled, covering most of her face; clothes torn and covered in blood; blue eyes screaming murder and knees trembling from the blood loss… the “it” admired the blood staining her almost snow-like skin, she finally started to look like him… too bad she had to die.

“You want me to be your heiress daddy, be like you?”, the little girl chimed.

Her voice startled the “it”, for two reasons. First, she never called him daddy; second, her voice didn’t sound like her, it was too… high.

“Well, I figure you do.”, Harleen continued. She looked at her right, where her sister’s corpse stood. She reached out and touched the tip of the knitting needle buried in her neck and giggled. Weird, since the “it” didn’t see her smile or move her mouth as she did that. “But you must have been careful about what you wished for.”, she grabbed the needle by it’s tip as she grinned at the madman. “You of all people must know better about who my father is, who 'you’ are…”

Harleen suddenly pulled the blood soaked knitting needle out. The madman didn’t have much time to react, her first attack was too quick. He felt a stinging pain on the hand he held the knife. The knife flew back as he threw it in pain, hitting the wall and falling on the floor. The “it” looked at his hand, hissing as he saw the place Harleen pricked him.

Growling, he decided he’d do just fine, attacking her bare handed. He lunched forward, grabbing the child by her waist as his other hand held her hand holding the needle. He lifted her up, trying to yank the weapon away from her hand. The needle was on their eye level, with it’s sharp end pointing towards the madman. They struggled for a few seconds, as the child managed to resist him by pulling the needle towards herself with both hands. After a few seconds, the “it” started to wonder why Harleen was smirking.

All of a sudden, she let go of the needle.

Already having been pulling the needle towards himself for a while, the madman did not expect the sudden disappearance of the counter force that used to keep the weapon in place. So, he could not do anything as he, himself, pricked his own left eye by pulling the needle towards himself. He let out a vehement scream as his grip on the child and the weapon loosened, yet, her grip on him didn’t.

Holding on his right shoulder with her left arm, the child used her other hand to press the needle deeper in his eye. She felt the spine chilling feeling of his sphenoid bone being scratched by the sharp end of the needle. She then pulled it off quickly and jumped down, as the madman stumbled back in pain; hitting the wall behind him. He slumped down on his butt, one hand pressing on his bleeding wound as a ear deafening shriek was heard. Harleen approached him, like an eagle flying towards a snake.

The “it” looked at the monster he had created, with the eye he could still see with. Her eyes had lost their focus point, her knees were shaking, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was smiling.

It was like the times he gave her that drug. She had turned into a bloodthirsty animal.

Harleen launched forward, with the knitting needle still in her hand. She stabbed him in the shoulder, using both of her hands to bury it deep enough. The madman tried to get her off himself, but was stopped with a terrible string of pain caused by Harleen suddenly pulling the needle out. Everytime he tried to push her away, he was met with the sharp end of a blade. When he tried to protest, the little girl waved the weapon around randomly and god knew he didn’t want to loose his other eye as well.

Then he noticed the kitchen knife. The knife he threw away when Harleen first pricked him. The knife which fell on the floor after it was thrown at the wall.

His fingers creeped towards the knife’s handle as another stab landed on his thigh. He gritted his teeth, trying to bear the tormenting pain and grabbed the wooden handle of the knife. He smiled to himself, thinking he’d finally win. Until he felt someone’s stare.

He turned towards Harleen, who had noticed the knife he held in his hand. Her look was frozen, like there wasn’t any kind of soul behind those blue eyes. Her gaze landed on his eyes, her face having the same soulless expression. They looked at each other for a bare second, then both of them attacked.

Raising his arm, the “it” aimed to bury the knife in her chest before that knitting needle could do any more harm. He knew Harleen was dead the point he got the hold of his knife. There was no way a five year old could be faster than him.

But the feeling of the pointy metal on his Adams apple proved him wrong.

And that was one of the only sensation he ever got to feel after.

An animalistic growl ripped from the back of Harleen’s throat as she pushed the needle deeper. The monster’s knife holding hand froze in midair, a wave of pulsation passed through it, as the “it” grunted in shock. He moaned, without being able to speak, but clearly begging his daughter to stop.

But the child’s mind was oblivious to any kind of outside context at that point. The individual behind her eyes was locked up deep inside. Unable to show any mercy.

Not that she would show any if she was in her right mind anyway.

So she pushed it deeper, as she started screaming. She couldn’t hear the man’s grunts, she couldn’t hear the flesh being torn apart; although it had been her only dream to feel him suffer. Soon, his body went limp under hers and his hand which grabbed the knife fell on the floor with a loud clack. His fingers around it’s handle loosened when Harleen pulled the needle out in one swift motion.

Tears concluding her vision, her own screams and sobs echoing in her brain and the wet and sticky feeling of blood taking over her skin; the child did not realize he was already dead. She didn’t even remember the difference between the dead and the alive.

So she continued, not caring about the blood loss and nausea, she just continued pricking him. Harleen couldn’t stop anymore; she stabbed his chest, his other eye, his forehead… over and over again as multiple sobs shook her body.

When her mind had snapped, the bottle didn’t fall down into the precipice of madness, as madness wanted it to. It all backfired, so instead of falling; the bottle engulfed everything inside, including the precipice. But now; since it engulfed everything else, the bottle stood there…
In the middle of a mass nothingness.


Edgar Beowulf had been a dead man for fourteen years. Was he sick? Yes, very. Was the problem in his liver since he had been drinking a lot for the past couple of years? Maybe, not incurable though. Was the real problem in his heart? Yes, he swore he had a hole in the middle of it. He knew alcohol wouldn’t fix it but if he was drunk enough, he could still imagine his heart was a whole.

He had been trying to find where that missing piece went for fourteen years, but after all of his struggles he always came back empty handed. The great Severe Edgar; who was known for knowing  everything, did not have a clue about where that missing piece of his heart had gone. His henchmen worked so hard to make him happy, since they had a great amount of respect for the mafia boss, but no one could. They couldn’t even make themselves happy.

Since the piece missing from Edgar’s heart was also a part of their hearts, they missed it.

Therefore, the great empire of Edgar Beowulf had been dying like it’s emperor and their main hideout that had always been the symbol of power had turned into a funeral home.

The old man refilled his shot glass one more time, immediately downing the tequila right after. He was in his office, where no one could see anyone due to the thick cigarette smoke. He had bags under his eyes and his eyebrows were knitted, making him look at least ten years older than he actually was. His hair had turned completely white and he had scars on his wrist. He was humming a melody, a pleasant memory from the times of his youth. He remembered the days he sang this nursery rhyme to the baby in his arms.

The little treasure of his life.

That little girl of his, was always worth a lot more than his great empire of knowledge. She had grown into a beautiful woman as the time passed, admired by all mafia organizations. She was known by the nickname, “Silver”. She had the ability to draw her knives out so quickly that all one could see is a silver light, shining in front of their eyes before they gave in to the eternity of darkness. Edgar could remember the days he taught her how to use a knife: the little girl would wake him up in the middle of the night; ecstatic; to tell him that she would finally hit the hundred points on the target board this time, as he patiently watched her, trying not to burst her bubble. He’d then have to comfort her as she cried, after hundreds of unsuccessful tries.

Damn, just how much he had missed those days…

It had all started with that man… the bastard was nothing more than an undisciplined drug lord. The thing he wanted to hire Edgar for was elementary for an emperor like him and it brought him easy money. So, he accepted his job offer.

Oh, how foolish he was then…

That rookie had started to hang out with his daughter too much, always trying to impress her. At first, he hadn’t interfered; thinking his princess wouldn’t even spare a peasant like him a single look. His thought didn’t change until he caught them making out in his office.

Edgar and his daughter had a huge quarrel that night.

Let’s be honest, Severe Edgar was a jealous father. But he wasn’t a five year old, he was sensible. If he had found a lamp with a genie inside of it, granting him only one wish; he would wish for his daughter’s happiness. Therefore, if she fell in love with a man that really cherished her; he wouldn’t try to keep her away from him. In his fifty three years of lifetime, there were two things that made him feel like he was the luckiest man alive. First was, falling in love with her mother and the second was having her in his arms. Why would he want to prevent her from being as happy as him? He would prefer to be dead if his existence prevented his daughter from being happy.

But he knew that bastard wasn’t the “one”, he was a sociopath who just wanted a pretty face to look at. And Edgar Beowulf wasn’t stupid enough to believe he just “sold” those drugs. He would harm his daughter, for sure.

So, the next day; after he woke up, when he found a note that was left by his daughter saying she had run off with him to get hitched he wasn’t that angry…

He was absolutely terrified.

It wasn’t the feeling of the disappointment and anger after you lose a match, it was when your three year old came dangerously close to the fireplace and reached out it’s little hand, because the fire looked so appealing to it.

But that fear had only lasted a minute or two. Suddenly, Edgar realized who he was. He could stop them before everything went too crazy, he knew everything. He could find where his daughter ran off to. The rookie who took her away was a stupid youngster.

But it didn’t turn out to be as easy as he expected it to be.

No matter what he and his henchmen had done, it didn’t work. His daughter and her good for nothing lover had vanished into thin air! Who in the world could hide something from Severe Edgar and become successful keeping it?

It didn’t matter, his daughter was gone.

Harry Cooper watched as the man he admired sulk in his chair, tired of living. He wasn’t his henchmen before his renowned daughter’s disappearance, so sadly, he only had gotten to see his hero in this state. He had been a part of this empire for just two years, he was still a rookie in the job. He was an expert in infighting and he was quite smart; but sadly he was nothing but more than that, he wasn’t qualified to be his henchman. The truth is, Harry’s father and Edgar used to be best friends in the army, before his father was shot to death. So, when he met Harry two years ago, waiting to be hired as a bodyguard without becoming successful; he took him in with him.

His father told Harry a lot of heroic stories about the man known as Severe Edgar before he was killed, so when Harry met the childhood hero of his in that state; he swore he’d find his daughter and make him happy again. He owed him that.

And he had been working hard for two years without becoming successful.

Until that moment.

His friend had been injured and broke his leg last week, being hospitalized in a small hospital in Gotham for a few days. When he went there to visit him, he saw a woman running past the halls while crying and he could swear she was identical to the one he saw in those photographs hanging all around in the office of Edgar. When he asked a nurse about the woman, all he could get was that she was just here to visit her daughter who was also hospitalized here.

But he didn’t stop there.

With the right amount of money, he managed to make one of the rookie doctors speak. Harry learned that the little girl was in a bad condition and everyone knew that her father had beaten her up this way. But no one could speak up since everyone feared him for some reason. He also managed to get the family’s home address from the patient’s file when the doctor wasn’t looking.

He cleared his throat suddenly, making Edgar Beowulf raise his head faint heartedly to look at him.

“I have a lead, sir.”


Forty five armed men had surrounded the house, waiting for the signal to attack. Twenty snipers had broken into other houses to have a better view of the house. There seemed to be no movements inside, so everyone was probably sleeping. They didn’t want to wake the whole neighborhood up, since it could just be a false alarm; so they climbed the wall surrounding the garden and looked for other entrances that didn’t involve blowing up the front door.

Harry was the first too see the open window.

With a signal of his hand, Edgar and twenty of his henchmen crawled on the wet grass with guns in their hands, like a swat team. Harry climbed first and looked at the room he was in. It seemed like a teen girl’s room by the looks of it, but it was empty.

“Clear.”, he whispered as the other henchmen continued to pour inside. Just as he was about to exit the room, Edgar put his hand on his shoulder; leaning closer to him as he whispered: “Take ten of them with you.”, he pointed at the goons, “…and search the first floor. We will cover the ground floor.”

Harry nodded and signaled half of the twenty men to escort him upstairs. They exited the bedroom together, passing through the hall covered in red carpet. Fortunately, the hall opened directly to the staircase. Two of the henchmen got ahead of Harry as they held their guns in shooting positions. As soon as one of them took his first step on the stairs, the goons were startled by the creaking sound which echoed through the halls. Almost immediately, the three men on the back of the crowd; turned back as they aimed their guns at the obscurity of the darkness, guarding their back in case someone dangerous had heard the creak.

The two goons at the front checked the floor and signaled Harry and the others to come. Harry clenched his fist, climbing up the stairs as he cocked his ear for any kind of sound. The seven other men climbed up the stairs as well and looked at Harry, waiting for the gesture of his hand.

As soon as he gave them the permission, ten men invaded the floor; splitting up into two and running to the ends of the hall. They would start searching from the ends, till they would meet in the middle. Room by room, the goons quietly opened the doors to see if anyone was inside.

Harry waited them in the middle, where the staircase stood, he had to guard the stairs. He aimed at the stairway, waiting for any unknown face to appear.

But the door behind him, right in the middle of the floor ;which was slightly left ajar; weirdly intrigued him. Even after the years that would pass, Harry would never be able to explain why he left guarding the stairs; but instead opened that door to check inside. It was as if the room was calling him, telling that something wrong had happened there. So, as his instincts kicked in, he reached out his hand and pushed the door open.

His feet hit something soft after he walked in there. He tried to see what it was, but the room was too dark for him to see anything at all. He grabbled around for a light switch on the wall. When he felt the cold plastic at the tip of his fingers, he pressed on it as the room filled with light. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the light, as the other goons noticed the light.

Then they heard Harry gasp.

They ran to him, panicking; when they found him in the room, staring at the ground in shock. Three of them pulled him out of the room, getting ahead of him as they unknowingly pointed their guns at the object he was looking at, thinking it was something dangerous.

The one with the long hair vomited first.

There lied a severed head of an infant. With her blue eyes, staring right at them, her jaw was slightly dislocated, blood dried on her neck area. Ten men were hypnotized and frankly, frightened; they couldn’t get their eyes off the baby, until Harry woke them up from their trance.

Walking towards the crib, Harry got the attention of all the goons in the room. In the crib, laid the baby’s headless corpse; wearing an onesie decorated with yellow baby chicks. The henchmen held their guns down, completely forgetting their own safety as they watched the traumatizing scene unfolding in front of them. Until another nightmare woke them up from this horrible nightmare.

Edgar Beowulf’s animalistic scream.

They immediately ran to where the sound came from. They all knew the scene they would see, but still, they were not ready for it. As they came closer, hearing the sobs, they knew their biggest nightmare had come to life.

The thing they saw first was Edgar’s trembling body, crouched down. He held a woman in his embrace, they could see her legs. After Harry saw the baby upstairs, he didn’t want to see the corpse of the woman. Everyone understood who she was. The ten goons headed towards the other crowd of henchmen, finally seeing what they never wanted to see.

Edgar hugged his dead daughter’s corpse, caressing her hair while having a breakdown. Her throat was slit, blood staining her father’s clothes. All of the henchmen were looking at their boss with visible worry in their eyes. Severe Edgar closed his daughter’s eyes with his fingers as he kissed her fingertips one by one. It was right then, he saw that thing.

The wedding band on her ring finger.

Roaring like a madman, he took the ring off and threw it away. He left his daughter’s lifeless body on the hall’s carpet, heading towards the only place he hadn’t searched: the living room. His goons shouted in terror, it was dangerous for him to go in head first, without having his weapon ready, in that state. Harry, knowing nothing would stop him at that point, ran towards him; aiming to assist him. Quickly, the others followed; barging into the living room together.

The first thing they saw with the help of the light emanating from the window was the teenage girl’s body, bleeding from her neck. Then they noticed the young boy on the floor, laying on top of colorful yarns and needles scattered around. They stared at the horrible scene in front of them until they heard the sound.


A weird, disgusting sound; coming from right beside them. One of the goons turned on the light switch as where the sound came from was revealed.

A little girl, in a blue dress, hair disheveled leaned onto the body of a… man. Though at least a thousand witnesses would be required to call that tattered and torn mass of human flesh a “man”.


The girl had done it again. Raising the huge knitting needle in her hand, she stabbed the mass of human flesh; making the goons understand the reason of the man’s corpse’s condition.

The girl had riddled him to death. Harry wondered how many stabs it took to turn his body into that state. His attention was then turned towards the huge slit on her back, blood still oozing from it. The girl seemed to be dizzy from the blood loss, yet, she didn’t stop.

Edgar was frozen in his spot, unable to move. He stare at the scene before him. Had this little girl killed his daughter? Impossible… Who was she? Why was she doing th…

His thoughts were disturbed by the thing he saw. The riddled man’s corpse. He looked at his hand, seeing the wedding band and the knife resting on top of his palm. No doubt it was used to slit his daughter’s throat. He stumbled towards the corpse and it’s killer, stuttering:

“Stop… you killed him already.”

The girl turned her head towards the men standing before her in one swift motion. Her eyes were full of determination and hatred, but her expression changed into shock soon after. It was like… she hadn’t realized they had been here for a while. She looked at Edgar with the same expression on her countenance, then turned back to what she was doing; as if she stilldidn’t realize he had been already dead.

Edgar gasped when he saw the child’s face, a complete replica of his daughter’s. He felt weak on the knees and fell on them as he continued to look at the blood leaking from her back.

Harry saw the little girl get dizzy, when her hand trembled as she was about to stab the corpse one more time. He launched forward, to yank the weapon away from her hand. The girl saw what he was doing out of the corner of her eye and jumped off the corpse. She waved the needle at him while she screamed like an animal, cutting his hand as he was yanked away by the other henchmen in the room.

It seemed his action had awakened something in her. Without stopping screaming, she held the needle with both hands an started pricking the corpse faster. She landed a stab on him every second and every time she landed a stab on him, she grunted. The henchmen noticed her lips quivering and her left eye twitching as a shriek escaped her mouth. There was no emotion behind her eyes, except hatred. Harry regained his composure as he approached the girl to try one more time, but was stopped by the trembling hand of his boss.

Edgar had slowly crawled on fours towards the child. As she was fully focused on killing the monster completely, he reached out and put his hand on her head; slowly caressing her hair. The girl’s body stiffened for a second and she opened her mouth to scream again, but was stopped by Edgar’s agonized voice:

“I’m sorry…”

Her body shivered as the pauses between her stabs became longer. Edgar crawled towards her, getting even closer. He caressed her cheek gently, before holding her hair away from her face. The next time he spoke, the tears in his eyes were audible in his voice, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner…”. The girl was started silently sobbing as well, the hateful expression on her face changing into a surprised one again: she couldn’t understand why she was crying, she didn’t know who these men were, she didn’t know what she was doing.

She didn’t know who she was.

“You can stop…”, he continued.

No, she didn’t want to stop. He was a curse, the moment she stopped he would haunt her again. She didn’t want to see his face, she was afraid she would remember it all again.

A stab landed on the man’s face.

He was unstoppable… she would be as well. He would follow her to her dreams, turning them into nightmares again. She was the only one left for him to hurt. The only one… that’s right… he couldn’t hurt mommy anymore, since mommy could love him no more.

“He can’t hurt 'you’ anymore.”, Edgar sobbed.

The needle in her hand fell down, as soon as those words left Edgar’s mouth. Harleen turned towards the old man and looked at him with tears in her eyes, those eyes pleading him to tell her those were all just terrible dreams.

But Harleen didn’t need to hear the truth from his mouth to see it. Her eyes just focused on the sofa behind the man, where she saw her sibling’s corpses. Her eyes glued onto the hole on her sister’s neck, she suddenly remembered how she got her weapon.

And then screamed in terror.

Edgar Beowulf  took his granddaughter in his embrace, holding her wrists to prevent her from clawing her own face and burying her face in his chest as he patted on the little girl’s hair. Intermittent sobs were shaking her whole body, as she was having an hysteria crisis. As dizziness started to overpower her consciousness the whimpers died down. Edgar left her wrists, as they embraced each other while crying, in front of the monster who took their life away from them. The old man wiped the blood away from the snow white skin as he kissed her cheek.

The henchmen were at loss of what to do, before Harry Cooper came forward: taking off his jacket as he loosely put it on them. He looked at them for a few seconds, until he felt a slight movement from behind the window.

He turned towards the window, the white things he saw filling his heart with even more sorrow.

And at that night, the Emperor embraced the only thing left for him to continue living, as the first snowflakes of the year landed on the roof of a giant cemetery.








Guys, I am so sorry if I made you sad, but since the first chapter this kinda was my plan. Either way, did you think the child’s story would turn out this way? Do you understand the reason behind Edgar’s protectiveness? I hope you’ll be happy to hear that you’ll get to learn Chaos’ identity in the next chapter. Btw, let me clarify: the drug the “it” did was meth; which, against common belief; causes only minor hallucinations due to sleep deprivation. So, when he heard Harleen giggle when in fact she hadn’t moved her mouth; when he heard her voice a couple notes higher and when he saw her smirk as she was pulling the needle away… those were all minor hallucinations, Harleen wasn’t that creepy…


✿ hooo boy is this long. Strap in, kids! This is the minor trio - (V, Unknown, and Vanderwood) - with the hitman MC from this post. Like the other, it’s pretty serious and angsty in parts, with mentions of torture, self-hate, and lots of bad things happening. Also, huuuuuuuuge spoilers for the secret endings here, folks. Like, Vanderwood’s section literally assumes you’ve played it.

Proceed with caution… and I hope you enjoy!


  • ok, what sort of sadistic fucking god said it was okay for a man as cute as V to exist, because you’re going to kick its divine ass
  • Ohhh my gooooooddd, look, it’d be one thing if he was just… cute and sweet, okay? You could deal with this aqua-haired moron if he was just polite and horribly kind. but no. no. he is also incredibly self-sacrificial, and you swear to GOD he needs a fucking BABYSITTER
  • ok. things start with V calling and texting you a lot, to like… check up on you. To make sure you’re settling in okay, and apologize profusely for basically dragging you into the RFA. You’re like, naw man, it’s cool, you weren’t really doing anything better anyway.
  • (To be frank, you’d just been trying not to think of the child in Cambodia you had to kill in two-weeks for work. It wasn’t like you were doing anything before your flight… so might as well plan the RFA’s party, eh?)
  • if you can plan a murder, you can totally plan a charity bash
  • You are not used to someone being so polite and kind to you though, so you find yourself feeling kinda… weird around V. Like a fluttery sort of weird that only gets worse when Jumin sends you a picture of him and you find out that he’s hella cute.
  • You end up thinking about him all the time. His voice, his face, the way he worries over you and sounds so concerned over the phone… and shit, his photos!
  • His photos!
  • You never really had time to appreciate art, but they make you… feel something! You’re not sure if it’s some intrinsic quality of the lighting or that you just that you can feel him through the lens, but there is something there and no, you’re not just gassy.
  • You desperately try to convey this to him. Unfortunately, you have no way with words, so you end up comparing it to the time you got in a bar-fight in Calcutta and narrowly avoided being taken in by the IPS by climbing through a bathroom window and vaulting over a chain-link fence. Looking at it makes you relive that moment of freedom, of clarity - of knowing that hell yeah you’re not going to jail today because god smiled upon you through the sacred force of convenient floor planning.
  • V says that is, quite possibly, the most creative way he’s ever heard someone describe one of his photos, and you’re really embarrassed because you don’t want V to think you’re a thug.
  • You are a thug, of course, and kind of not good at hiding it. Weirdly enough though, either V is hella polite or it just… doesn’t affect his opinion of you enough to stop wanting to talk to you, because he keeps doing it.
  • He tells you about art. Music. Cacti, apparently he likes collecting them, and you’re just so… happy to speak with this sweet, gentle person… but also you’re getting this increasing sense of dread that’s making you really worried.
  • See, you can tell V is hiding something. You smell bullshit with this whole… Rika situation, and the apartment, and… just… everything! But you’re willing to wait for awhile, you’re willing to not question it or pry, until V tells you something very, very strange one day at the very end of one of your routine calls with him.
    • “I… might not be able to speak with you again until the party. Or maybe even - …Well. Ah, what I mean to say is… I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for the RFA, and everything you might do in the future. It has…”
    • “…I am very happy, knowing that you’ve played a part in it.”
  • yeah that’s sarcasm, you’re going to start digging for shit because you are so scared for V right now.

(the rest is under the read-more.)

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                                     Matt the Radar Technician

Request: “I love soul mate so much! Can I request some Matt the Radar technician maybe making him jealous or whatever you come up with I’m good.”

A/N: Alright, so I didn’t really go with the jealous thing as it kinda seems over done with Matt fics? But I hope this is good enough for you, anon! Enjoy! [GIF NOT MINE, yes, it’s kylo, not matt…oops]

Warning: Curse Words.

Word Count: 3.7:+


Check out the damage. Hux’s voice rung in your head, as much as being Hux’s right hand was quite interesting, you hated having to check up after the aftermath of the commanders outburst–sometimes nearly walking into him mid-tamper tantrum–and during those occasions, you were sure he contemplated whether or not to Force choke you each time you rushed out before you could see him seeing you. Lucky for you, this time the commander was nowhere in sight, nothing but harsh sparks flying around and the defeated buzz’s of the machinery, as if pleading to put their technological lives to an end. “Wonderful…” Releasing a deep sigh, you found yourself lean against a wall as you rubbed your forehead. You hated having to check out the damage, must of the time trying not to get burned or electrocuted.

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DeafBlind Accessible House!

Each Deaf/HOH/DeafBlind/Blind individual require different things to have an Accessible house. I finally moved into my new house and it’s 110% Accessible! Unfortunately, no ramp, but I wish I could install one for my friends. 

What is an Accessible house to me, as a DeafBlind person? Flashing notifiers, clear floor/hallway, bright lights, contrast colours, open floor plan.

Here are just a few pictures of what Accessibility is like to me in my own house!
My Support Identification Cane and Guide Cane!

The staircase! As I cannot see when looking down the stairs, I need to have that yellow stripe at the end to inform me “You are going down stairs now!”

The Doorbell, on the door because I had no where else to put it! The doorbell is connected to my alarm where it’ll flash/vibrate my bed.

Open floor plan so easier to see signing, when I’m in the livingroom and someone in kitchen - easy to see! Even in my own bedroom has such open space!

See the towel? It must be a completely different colour for me to see. Most of my furniture is black because its easier for me to see and identify - but it has such an open floor plan!

My bedshaker alarm! It connects to the doorbell, fire alarm and other things! It really does give me a Deafiquake!

I am in waiting to get this, but it’s portable pager that flashes to which is being notified. So the big top stripe will flash white, the circles will flash green/vibrate different styles to tell me “Oh, this is being done!” It also has braille too.

I have lights that is easy to see when it’s dark around my house and staircases.

These lights are sensory lights so when someone goes up/down the stairs, they turn on. Energy saving too! 

Also, my computer is accessible too with magnification. Sometimes my vision impacts me where I will need to make it inverted black/white as shown below!

My friends dog that I have known for a while as well, is starting to really get to know me. He knows how to guide me when it’s pitch black! Just yesterday I couldn’t see a single thing so I called his name, he came to me, let me find his collar and guided me to where I wanted to go. This has only happen 3 times but it’s so neat! The dog also is starting know some ASL too such as STAY/SIT/NO and the dog is slowly learning how to approach me on my good side of sight (left).

- So yeah, this just ‘tour’ of my house with what I have for me to move around my house more easier! Bonus, I have my house memorized, I can just walk around in pitch black and eye closed ;) DeafBlind bonus! Save electricity! 

anonymous asked:

sam of everyone in the phandom I trust your opinion most what do u think of the book

before we get down to my opinions, let’s have a brief discussion about content, and about the thought that goes into that content.

take a look at Dan’s channel for a while. do it. go through his videos one by one. listen to the way he talks. pay special attention to his vocabulary and the way he constructs his arguments. I’m sure that you, like myself and many others, have sat back in your chair (or at least cocked your head to the side while sprawled across your bed in a position that has horrific ramifications for your spine) and thought, “wow, he speaks so eloquently. I could never have come up with a sentence like that by myself.”

after you’ve done that, think about every time he’s mentioned the way he agonizes over what he adds into his videos, and the careful and considerate and deliberate way he’s answered certain tumblr asks, and how carefully he pares down his videos to be relevant, engaging and insightful.

are you thinking about it? good. hold it all in your brain.

now go and look at Phil’s channel. watch his ‘awkward childhood stories’ playlist, or his ‘tour of my brain’ video. get lost in the wormhole of suggested videos for a few minutes. or hours. your choice. take note of his honesty and his creativity and how much thought he puts into what he talks about, and how honest and weird and genuine he is. take a look at his tweets. spend a good fifteen minutes scrolling and try to put yourself inside of his headspace; try to figure out how he comes up with some of the abstract (and sometimes frankly alarming) connections he makes.

he has a strange, charming kind of intelligence, and he does his best to connect with his viewers and come up with fun, imaginative, original ideas (that are, in fact, so fun and creative that they’ve been stolen numerous times by quite a few different youtubers. and yet, never once have I seen him throw shade).

got all of that?


now boil it down.

take a minute to analyze all that information in terms of the production of a book. their content is consistently clever, thoughtful, witty, engaging and thorough. they don’t rely on bandwagon tags and they don’t do many challenges and they work hard to ensure that what they create is solid, intelligent, innovative content. Phil Lester completed a degree in English language and linguistics. and while Dan did drop out of law school, he’s no slouch; he strives for perfection and does it well.

with all of that in mind, people dare to imply, even for a minute, that Dan and Phil would endeavor to publish something subpar? that they would let someone else do the dirty work for them, or half-ass it and let their subscribers down with a book that didn’t live up to their own personal standards?

sure, the idea might have been put in their heads by a bunch of other youtubers “publishing books” - and yes, I’m putting that in quotes because we all know damn well that most of those people didn’t actually write those books, and I’ll be the first one to say that it is reflected in the content of their channels - but based on the pride Dan and Phil take in what they produce and how much effort they put in to make their videos good, I don’t think they would take this on unless they were ready to put in the work and unless it was something they actually wanted to do.

so, to finally answer your question, anon:

I am very excited for this book.

and you should be, too.

Raphael Varane and his wife Camille suffered a robery at their home during the match with Borussia Dortmund.

Varane suffered a robbery at his home during the match against Dortmund. A gang of organised thieves broke into his residence in the affluent zone La Moraleja, Madrid taking advantage of the absence of Rapha and his wife, who were at Santiago Bernabeu. It is thought the thieves entered through an annexed chalet which was being worked on, before being able to force open the main door of the house and robbing the property which spreads over nearly 400 square metres. The robbers have stolen about 70.000 euros in cash, 12 exclusive watches, clothes and importnant jewelerry. Rapha admitted to police that he had forgotten to connect his sophisticated alarm system because he left the house in a hurry. Let’s hope that the police will find the robbers soon 🙏🏻