#with Barbra bleeding out on the floor

[noodle-artist]

When that first fear gas hallucination hits:

[cant-think-of-anything]

Pirate AU (Part Seven)

TW: Violence

Lucie could safely say that while rain provided for wonderfully dramatic scenes to write she despised actually being in it. Storms in London were miserable enough but on a ship they were truly dreadful. She and Cordelia were crouched on top of the enclosed rooms above deck, Cordelia trying to see if she could spot any indicator of Tatiana inside. 

“I don’t see anyone. We can search this room to see if we find anything. We need to be sure that this is where Tatiana goes” 

And that’s what they did, lowered themselves into the room and searched through the sparse items that were within.

“This doesn’t tell us anything,” Lucie muttered in frustration, shoving aside the blank papers on the desk. 

A loud creak caught her attention, and she turned to find Cordelia kneeling in front of an open trap door. 

“Should we…”

“We have to,” Cordelia said, drawing her sword and holding her hand out to Lucie. “Just don’t let go.”

Grabbing onto her hand, they both went down the steep stairs that presumably took them below decks. She wasn’t foolish enough to hope Tatiana had died but it was safe to assume she was still healing from the stab wound Lucie dealt her. A lantern dimly lit the entrance into what she assumed were the decks below but something was wrong. 

Cordelia had mentioned earlier that Tatiana had a very large crew but this room was entirely empty. There were small beds lining the floors with tiny cramped cells pushed up against the walls but no one was occupying either. 

“Why would she have an entrance to this? Where’s the exit?” Lucie whispered, scanning the walls to find that there were none. What was the room used for? 

A square of wood above their heads was ripped out, a patch of rain flowing into the room. 

“What in-?” Cordelia was cut off by the sound of a yell and a landed punch before Eugenia fell through said hole, landing on her back in a way that made Lucie wince. She was shortly followed by Alastair and Thomas. Alastair managed to land somewhat gracefully before helping Thomas up.  Eugenia though, sprang up, shouting a curse at the now closed ceiling.

Lucie scrambled over to her friends along with Cordelia, scanning them for injuries before exclaiming “What happened!”

Eugenia sighed sweeping the escaped pieces of hair back into the knot behind her head. “Someone found us, dragged us to the middle of the deck and then threw us through the ceiling! And we aren’t close to shore anymore. Whoever is sailing the ship has taken us far enough away that we can’t swim back without drowning or freezing in the storm. I don’t know how we are meant to leave.” She took a breath. 

“They did something to me,” Alastair murmured, his face worryingly hazy. Lucie didn’t doubt it. She’d heard the way Alastair fought through Cordelia’s stories and she didn’t believe he would be down here if he hadn’t been drugged. Cordelia pulled a vial from her pocket and handed it to her brother. 

“Christopher thought we would need it in case something happened. I’m not sure how he knew but I’m grateful.” 

 “Are you okay Lucie? Cordelia?” Thomas asked, casting a worried look at Alastair who seemed to be returning to his bearings. 

“The hallway,” Cordelia said, staring at the entrance- or rather the place that used to lead into the room. “Is it sealed? On its own?” 

“Our situation keeps getting worse then?” 

A gravelly familiar voice answered Lucie’s question. “Yes girl. It does.”

She felt a cold curl of dread in her stomach, turning to face Tatiana Blackthorn who was flanked by a girl she didn’t recognize and a girl she did. Grace Blackthorn. It had been years but she remembered Grace as well as she did Tatiana. Eugenia paled when her eyes met the dark haired woman standing opposite to them.

~~~

This entire situation served as a fantastic reminder as to why Alastair never worked in crews. His fingers itched to draw a dagger and throw it into Tatiana’s heart but his head was still recovering and there was no guarantee that Tatiana wouldn’t do the same to one of his own. Thomas and Eugenia were also unarmed, he’d seen the man that threw them here take their weapons off. Fortunately the majority of his weapons were hidden in the lining of his clothing. He discreetly gave one to Thomas.

Tatiana stalked closer, and Alastair could see that she had barely recovered from the blow Lucie had dealt. He would have congratulate her on that later. 

“You think,” Tatiana hissed, “You can interfere with my plans? Meddle here, try to kill me?” 

“If your plan is to hurt us,” Eugenia snapped back defiantly, “Then yes.”

“You think you know hurt because you lost your sister?”

“We did not lose her. You murdered her.”

“Just a small repentance for what you robbed me off.” 

“And what exactly is that?” Cordelia piped in, and Alastair could see her hand reaching to wear Cortana was hidden under her coat. 

“Your families,” she responded, her eyes piercing into Lucie, Eugenia and Thomas, “were the ones I came to when my husband and son were dying. Blood is thicker than water isn’t it? They left us to fend for ourselves and my husband died because of it. My son grew sick to the point of death. You still believe your parents are saints? They used to be family too.”

Lucie gave a violent jerk at the mention of the Blackthorn child.

“So yes. I did murder your sister,” She said turning her dark gaze to Eugenia. “And I enjoyed it. She was worthless anyway.”

Without warning, Eugenia slapped Tatiana, her voice dipped to a hiss “Never talk about my sister that way.” 

And then chaos broke, the silver haired girl that Alastair vaguely remembered from the street drew her sword against Eugenia, Lucie and Cordelia turned their weapons against Tatiana leaving Alastair and Thomas to face who he presumed was the ship navigator from the way they were dressed. The grinding of metal was oddly soothing, the only other thing besides Cordelia that was familiar in this situation. Cordelia managed to give Eugenia a short blade in the midst of it so she could protect herself. 

Alastair cursed, and turned to Thomas, “Keep her off us,” with a gesture in the navigator's direction who looked as if she wanted nothing more than to sleep. 

He grabbed Lucie’s arm and pulled her to the wall, glancing back to make sure Cordelia was able to hold her own against Tatiana and Grace. He poured what little they had of Christopher's solution on the wall before gesturing to Lucie’s axe. “Cut through it.” At her questioning stare he sighed. “Now.”

The wood fell away easily and Alastair peered down, breathing his relief when he spied the rowboat. It only was suited for three people but they had no other choice. He turned back. Tatiana was near unconscious, Alastair could see her wound bleeding again but the other two were still fighting. Thomas, Lucie and Eugenia were promising he could admit, but they weren’t trained, certainly not the way Tatiana trained her crew. 

He grabbed Eugenia and Lucie by the sleeve, making sure Thomas could hear him as well. “Boat. Now. Jump and lower yourself down when everyone is on.” He took his place by Cordelia as their friends escaped. Grace scowled and slashed her sword in an arc, their navigator parried her sword against Alastair’s. 

“You too Cordelia.” He muttered. “We can’t win this and keep our friends alive.”

Her eyes were wide as she cut at Grace’s legs. “You’re coming with us right?” 

“I am.” It was a lie. But a believable one. Too much weight and a ship capsizes, especially in a storm such as this one. He knew enough about boats to know that he wouldn’t be leaving. Cordelia nodded and pushed Grace away one final time, allowing enough time for her to jump through the jagged hole. It was only then that Alastair yelled for Eugenia to lower it into the water. 

“But what of you?” She shouted back, her voice barely audible over the winds.

“I’ll find my own way out! Leave!” 

Grace’s blade cut across his arm, the navigator and Tatiana had apparently vanished. Despite the blade nearly against his neck and the fact that he was trapped on an enemy ship with no way out, he still felt a rush of relief. He heard the rope loosen and the boat drop into the water, freeing his friends. 

~~~

Just to clarify Eugenia, Thomas, Cordelia and Lucie made it out, I’m not sure if the ending made it sound like they fell in. 

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno and @barbra-lightwood (lmk if you want to be added) 

[rustybutterknife]

Yo can I get some Beetlejuice headcannon. Just like, some weird shit idk. Anything. I just like reading headcannons xD

Of course!

His eyes glow reflect light (like a raccoon)

So when he goes into Lydia’s room at night (to wake her up to get up to no good) she wakes up and just sees two glowing yellow eyes looking down at her

Needless to say she screamed and punched him straight in the nose

She turns on the light and sees BJ fall straight on his ass, holding his nose as it’s bleeding

It was a fun story to tell at breakfast the next day

Also explains why BJ’s covered in blood

He chews on EVERYTHING to keep his fangs in check

(Also it’s a good stim)

The Deetz’s were tired of finding bite marks on places they weren’t supposed to be (specifically their shoes) so they buy him teething toys that are meant for babies, but he like em.

His favorite one is a necklace with these chunky black silicone pearls

He likes it because after a while of chewing, the pearls become softer

His favorite stims are flapping his hands, this one where he holds his hands and twists his arms and holds it to his face while rocking side to side, and going as fast as he can on a spinny chair. (Charles has one in his office, he’ll let BJ use it when he’s upset or he just has a lot of extra energy he needs to burn off)

He also really likes pressure stims, so he’ll sometimes get the Maitlands or Lydia to sit on his back

They found out you can make him shut up and calm down this way when he was being a chaotic little shit and Lydia told him to stop or else

“Or else what!?”

“Or else… I’ll… I’ll… I’ll sit on you!”

“Oh yeah!? I’d like to see you t-!”

And just like that he’s on the floor and Lydia’s on his back

He goes quiet for a minute while Lydia teases him before she goes

“Did I just find your off switch?”

The Maitlands catch on to it

You’ll sometimes see them having late movie nights and they’re all sitting on top of BJ

They’re all fairly light so he can handle it

He’s a pretty grimy nasty boy and he likes it that way (also it helps with dysphoria)

So when the Maitlands tell him he needs to shower if he wants to join them on the bed

He has a fit

It takes 2 hours before they can come to the agreement that he’ll shower, as long as the Maitlands join in too

Especially since they haven’t showered since they died so it seemed like a good idea

He’s kinda hesitant to undress because he’s self conscious of his top surgery scars and because he’s a little on the chunky side

They coax him into it with praise and kisses

The Deetz’s shower is pretty big thanks to renovations, so they can all fit

The water turns a gross murky greyish-brown when BJ steps in

It takes a good half hour of constantly washing him before he’s fully clean

They used up about half of the Shampoo bottle and ⅔ of the body wash

Sorry Charles

They also borrowed some of Charles’ clothes so BJ could have something to wear

Sorry Charles pt. 2: electric boogaloo

He’s a lot more pink and his hair is a lot softer (head and body)

Suddenly there’s knocking on the door

“Hey, Delia, how much longer are you gonna be in there?”

Ohshit.jpeg

They all quickly wrap up in clean towels and Adam opens the door a crack so only his head is poking out

“Hey Lydia, it’s me, sorry… uh… what do you need?”

“Oh! Sorry, I just needed to grab my hair bru- Is that Bj and Barbra in there?”

Barbra and Adam turn bright red while BJ has a shit eating grin spread across his face.

“You know what, I don’t even wanna know. Can I just get my brush? It’s in the top drawer on the right.”

Barbra nods and shyly passes her the hair brush.

“Shit, Bj, you’re really pink!”

“Please just leave so we can get dressed!”

“Alright, you got it dudes.”

They don’t talk about that incident.

They do keep BJ from being a stinky bastard

He and Charles try to bond

Bj has a hard time remembering his name (Chuckles. Charlie. And once, Gabriel.)

They bond over going to the grocery store together.

The Maitlands can’t go, so it’s just BJ and the Deetz’s.

He’s able to pass off as their chaotic college aged son

He likes to stick his head out the window during car rides

They sometimes have to keep BJ at home if they wanna go to certain stores because he’s gotten himself banned from them

He’s gotten banned from a grocery store because he’s pulled an Eddie Brock and climbed into the lobster tank

The only stores he behaves at are Lydia’s favorite places

La michoacana, the mall, and the corner store

He likes the “breather snacks” at the corner store

He’s pretty old and has a pretty busy schedule of being a bio exorcist so he hasn’t gotten around to trying foods from the 21st century

So one day Lydia buys a whole bunch of snacks she thinks BJ would like and they have a little taste test party

She also snuck a couple of snacks just to see his reaction (warheads, takis, xxtra flamin hot Cheetos)

When he tried warheads, he just went “oh, this is pretty ni-“ then immediately scrunched up his face. Think of the meme with the cat and the banana.

Lydia almost had an asthma attack from laughing so hard.

He will eat anything you give him, no matter what.

Some of the things he’s eaten are a 5 pound gummy bear (in one sitting), a bath bomb, chocolate laxatives, straight up hot sauce, and shaving cream

He’s a slut for lil Debbie snacks

He also really loves hot Cheetos and mazapán

Lydia once bought him a full pack of mazapán and it was gone within 3 days

Also once, while sleep deprived and talking to the Maitlands, she referred to him as “Beechito” (which, for those of you who don’t know, adding -ito to the end of a name is a masculine term of endearment.)

Adam and Barbra quickly catch onto it and Beetlejuice has to ask why the Maitlands keep calling him “beejeetoh” (they have the white accent)

Lydia shyly explains and he’s the embodiment of the ;w; emoji

SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG I HAD A LOT OF FUN-

[bb-basbusa]

What is family?

This work is also posted on AO3

The bats flew ahead as their screeches echoed through the cave. To Helena these were white noises, after all she grew up in the cave as much as grew in the manor. Her eyes roamed around, taking in the differences in this cave and comparing them to her world's as she waited for the rest of the family to arrive. the giant coin was the same so was the dinosaur. there were less acrobatic equipment, the dick Grayson of this world doesn't seem to come to the cave often as her brother. The biggest difference is the memorial display of a torn Robin suit( and wasn't it a surprise to see her father adopt more boys after dick. not that she is complaining they're all charming, plus she gets a sister from this) looking on the cave like a haunting ghost.

Helena doesn't see the point on keeping the memorial when Jason is alive and well. she really doesn't understand this version of her father as she understand her own. The bat himself is sitting IN front of the bat-computer, his fingers almost a blur as he types quickly on the keyboard. Seeing This batman's face has left her almost breathless, even though she knew his secret identity before that. This Bruce is younger than her father, with less gray hair on his temples. His face lacks crow feat, but the wrinkles around his mouth are deeper. More closed off easier to anger, broodier. There is a slight slouch on his shoulders that her father didn't have, almost as if he is carrying an invisible heavy weight. Not for the first time Helena wonders What did this Bruce Wayne go through to be like this?.

"Don't compare me to you Drake, I am clearly the superior robin" an annoyed high pitched that belonged to her darling half not brother interrupted Helena's train of thoughts "After all I am the blood son"

Turning around Helena saw Tim and Damian having an intense stare off, and if looks could kill both would have been a pile of ash on the floor. Cass was sitting on the side rolling her eyes at their antics, clearly used to this kind of behavior from the two youngest. Duke and Steph were ignoring them by blissfully stuffing their faces with Alfred's homemade  cookies. Jason was cleaning his guns, a book, which Helena suspects it to be pride and prejudice, was opened on the table IN front of him. Barbra was working on her laptop her fingers are gliding on the keyboard. It seems most of the family have arrived while she was lost in her thoughts. Now they're only waiting for Dick.

"news flash demon spawn. Bruce chose me to be his robin unlike you" spat Tim

Helena blinked her eyes in confusion "chose you? what do you mean Chose you?"

Tim turned his eyes to her with an equally confused look " I meant it as I said it, Bruce chose to be his robin". This didn't make any sense in Helena's mind " why didn't dick choose you? shouldn't he be the one to give you robin?"

"Why?" scoffed Jason, huntress turned to him as he placed his gun on the table " I mean sure he was the first robin, but what does golden boy have to do with picking the next robin? Robin is batman's sidekick after all. so batman picks the replacement" he pointed to Tim. Helena's gaze turns from confusion to despair. Didn't they know? "it has everything to do with dick" she replies indignantly " robin isn't just a name to dick" It can't be meaningless in this world. Dick Grayson was the one constant in this parallel universe. The name, the colors the costume. It's too much to be a coincidence. " Robin is his mother's name for him" her voice echo's through the cave for a moment before a stifling silence descends upon them. All of them looks at her with shock in their eyes. Tim had his jaws slightly open. Jason looks like a deer in headlights. " his mom?" his voice barley above a whisper.

Batman take's this moment to interrupt " Dick took on a new mantle, he didn't need it anymore. besides this happened along time ago" his tone warning to end the discussion. Helena wasn't having it. She turned her eyes towards Bruce, anger blazing in them. " he didn't need it anymore?! do you hear yourself?!" she barely controls the volume of her voice " Robin wasn't just an alias to him. the red, yellow, and green were his families colors. the first robin suit was modeled after their circus outfit. It is his tribute to his parents, how could you from all people say that?" Silence descends again, she could barley hear someone whisper holy shit. It could be Jason, perhaps it was Tim, Maybe Duke. it doesn't matter. What matters now is the man IN front of her. How could Bruce disregard something important like that, like it was nothing? Unless he didn't know? Dick may have been a constant, but this Bruce is different. from what she observed they weren't as close as her Dick and dad. Maybe Dick never told him? her anger simmers down. "Did you know the origin of his name?" she asks hopefully "yes" her hope slightly dims " Did he give you his blessing to pass it down?" ......."no" her hope is crushed. her anger returns with vengeance. Helena clenches her hands at her side, teeth grinding against each other. "Why" she breathes out " if you knew why give it away like this" Batman's stances shift, his body twitches slightly as he almost squirms but caught him self in the last second. His face in a grimace " Jason needed robin, he needed to direct his anger somewhere". "you could have chosen him as your sidekick without giving robin away. he could have chosen his own alias, his own identity, his own colors. They all could have!. instead you give robin away like you give hand me down pants" her voice rises an octave. Helena took few steps towards Bruce until she was face to face with him. she teaches out her hand, her finger poking batman's chest " you disrespected his family. you disrespected his legacy" Huntress's eyes bore into Bruce. Blue fire burns in them.

When Dick gave her the mantle of robin, he did it while explaining it's meaning, his blue eyes begging her to understand how much it meant to him. That robin...

"Robin means family" she lets out a tired whisper.

Maybe that was her mistake, seeing this man as family. seeing him as her father. Helena was hurt, the pain of losing her him was still raw. and no matter how different was this Bruce from her's she still saw him as her father. But her father would never...

She wants her dad she misses her dad

"my father would never disrespects another person's family. especially Dick's. especially after they both lost their parents"  her eyes filled with sadness and disappointment. "my father was a great man, but you're.." nothing but a broken man. and that was the difference wasn't it? this Bruce is so broken, merely a shadow of her compared to her dad. "But you're nothing but a cheap imitation that wears his face. that uses his voice. Helena lowers her eyes to the ground. if she kept them up, she could have seen batman's expression crumbles as if he has been slapped. Instead she pivot on her feet and heads towards her motorcycle. " wait where are you going?" Tim asks urgently. his arm reached out to her. she has forgotten that they were here in the cave with her and Bruce. it doesn't matter she's leaving. she's not coming back. " i refuse to work with a hypocrite". because that's what he is. Bruce Wayne took on the mantle of the bat and dedicated his life to avenge his parents his family. because they are important. huntress wears her helmet and turns on the bike leaving behind a broken man and a broken family.

up the stairs at the entrance of the old grandfather clock, stood the lone figure of Dick Grayson. His mind restless, his heart bleeding. he turns around and leaves the cave

[v01d-ch1ld]

Bad Always Becomes Worse in Gotham, and Worse Usually Turns into Dead

Author’s note: Yes. This is an official update. Yes, it did take forever. No, sadly, I am not dead. This chapter is part of an all-nighter writing binge. At this point, I have written this chapter three times and I hope I am satisfied this time. I am using the power of emo music and naps to keep sane right now because my personal life is #rough at the moment so this is going to be that edgy™ chapter where afterward September and some of my real-life friends are going to ask me about my mental health. (If you guys are reading this I’m fine just super sleep-deprived and sore because of work and insomnia and caffeine are taking their toll.) Lean back and enjoy the ride.

Warning! This chapter contains descriptions of violence, rape, mental health disorders, drug use, and death. Do not read if you are squeamish or under the age of 13. (If you are 12 and on Tumblr you have problems anyways.)

 Tonight was becoming a fickle thing. Jason was in desperate need of a plan. Bruce, four-time winner of Father of the Year, just took a victim to a mental asylum, like the warm and compassionate human being that he is. Nothing that had been done that night had really been her fault and it was nearing close to dawn. He was running out of time. If the sun rose and the Red Hood was still active he was toast. Then there was the lovely array of bullet wounds his ex-crush had given him. Jason didn’t know what to do. Becca had shot him and tried to kill him, he tried to kill her, saved her, tied her to a bedframe (ironically enough, the room she was tied up in used to be his when he lived at the manor), and then she broke free, shared a sob story, attacked his ex-employer, and then kissed him. That was a whole clusterfuck of mixed signals to be worked out with Roy, cigarettes, and about three bottles of scotch. Jason shook his head, he could focus on that later, he needed to call Kori so he could get his girl out of Arkham.

He hobbled out of the Batcave having left his hood, jacket, chest plates, one of his boots and his guns in the cave. He still had his own modified comlink on. That was something he never took off, and while he used the one installed in the HUD in his hood he kept one private one for his team on him at all times in case he felt the need to stray from Bruce’s morals and blow some fuck’s brains.

“Kori?” Jason quietly spoke into the com. The walls have ears in Wayne Manor. Those ears are named Timberly Jackass Drake and Damian “Demon Brat” Wayne. If they warn Bruce he’s sicking Kori and Artemis on him before he’s in a safe house then he’s fucked. Last time he deviated it took Red Hood out of commission for three months, he would be taking no such risks this time. He held his breath until he heard her respond.

“Hood, what is it? Are you okay?” Kori’s voice came through his earpiece clear as a bell. He let out his baited breath.

“Yes. I am at the manor. You need to come get me. I got hit a lot tonight.” Jason murmured, walking towards his old room like he is planning on resting.

“What happened? You Bats make dodging bullets look easy.” Kori teased but Jason heard the underlying concern. She was always so caring, even heartbroken. (Dick was a moron. End of story.)

“I was up against a sharpshooter. A familiar face. Remember when I told you about the girl that I lost?”

“Your beloved? But I thought she died.” He had told Kori that he loved her as much as she loved Dick. It wasn’t far off but he was pretty sure he loved his girl more. He smiled at that.

“It seems that she and I have that in common. Listen she’s in bad shape. We all know the kind of damage that the Joker can do. He made her a criminal and Bruce is taking her to Arkham. We need to intercept him and get her out of their hold and hide her so that maybe I can get her help. Crazy as she has been made to be she still listens to me.”

“Jason. Is this really the right call? She is unstable. She could be dangerous. Who knows how the Joker could have brainwashed her? You remember his mind tricks.” Kori’s voice is gentle like she understands the true bite of her words. Jason frowns because, yes, he does remember and she does have a valid point.

“I’m sure. Make sure we keep her in one of our more secure safehouses. Send Artemis and when you drop me off at the house, join her because she will need reinforcements no matter how much she protests.” Jason grunts as he lies down in the bed he had tied his friend to. He can’t get past that. Becca, his babydoll, was turned into the Jester. A shell.

“Okay, I will be there in a few minutes. I had to wrap something up.” She hangs up tersely.  Translation: I was beating the fuck out of the gang lord I have been chasing and had to end it early because of your needy ass. Fuck it. He could deal with spoiling her fun later. He needed Becca safe.

 04:07 GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City

 Batman dragged the fighting and kicking Jester, though gagged and hogtied, into the police station. They had a cell waiting. He had removed her shoes because the wedge heel had been most unpleasant when hitting him in the ribs. Now she was still kicking him but through the Kevlar and titanium plates, he could hardly feel a thing. He had to used cord from his grapple to tie her up because the cuffs had been jimmied, the zip ties bitten off (hence, where the gag came in), and the rope broken with her enhanced strength. The weaved titanium of his grapple line would withstand her strength and tied the way he tied it would not come undone but only get tighter as she struggled.

                 Jim Gordon stood in the lobby of the building staring at the girl with a hard stare. He walks over and removed her gag.

               “I want to know if there is any hope in saving you.” Of course, he did. Becca was friends with Barbra. Like Bruce, he had become a father to her. Jester looked up at him and bared each one of her teeth showing how her canine teeth have been slightly elongated and filed to sharp points, no wonder she had bitten through the zip ties.

               “Men like you are the reason that people like me exist, to show the world that there is no hope.” She grins, “How’s Babs doing lately? Still can’t walk after all that physical therapy?” After that Batman, no Bruce, punched her in the stomach and Jester has the nerve to laugh.

               Looking back on her father’s lessons, she laughs the way she was taught to laugh to inspire fear. Slowly and quietly chuckling, smirking and then picking up the volume gradually until the sound of her insanity bounced off the walls. Sneaking a look around she saw some of the officers look at her in horror. Gordon looked disheartened, Bruce was stoic.

               “Take her to the holding cell and keep her tied up on the floor. And take the cot out,” Gordon barks to his men who respond with a shaky “yes sir” and cautiously approach the Jester, who is still doing her father proud, laughing up a storm. “The transfer truck should be here in an hour, we’ll take it from here.” He said to the Bat, who grunted his response and was gone in the time it took the commissioner to blink.

               Shaking his head, Gordon watched as the drug a still laughing Jester to the area where her mugshot would be taken. He sighed, he never likes watching kids go through the process of being entered into the system.

                 04:47 a holding cell inside of Gotham City Police Headquarters

               Lying on the floor of the cell Jester wanted to kill someone. Her arms were stretched uncomfortably, and her feet were numb, and she was cold. She supposed that she should also be in pain. For once she was glad that she couldn’t feel those sensations anymore. How long were they going to keep her waiting? Did she have to break out of here and WALK to the Asylum? She began to try to twist her wrists only to stop when she felt blood running down her arms. Great, now she was bleeding more than before. Jason may be on the wrong side of the law for her right now, but he was a great shot she had to admit. Almost as good as her teacher. Speaking of which, she still had to thank Floyd for giving her the custom pistols that are now locked up in evidence. Fuck she had to get those back those meant something to her dammit!

               Rolling over, she looked through the tiny ass window that they give the jailbirds to taunt them with their freedom. Arching, her back she grabs the knife that she stole from her charming new boy-toy and prayed that it was the right knife. She began to test the blade against the wire and it cut. She almost screamed in joy but remembered that she was in a police station and it was only so long before one of the officers found out that she had escaped her bonds. Once she did, however, she wasted no time in breaking the lock with a combination of the knife and her doctored strength.

               Near instantly the alarms started going off and the hallway was flooded with officers. I guess now would be the time to garner that plan to get her guns back. She started in on her prey with deadly efficiency. Taking one arm and immediately dislocating his shoulder and grabbing his gun while using him as a human shield from the first volley of bullets. Taking measured shots, she used the six-shot magazine to take out the best shots. Once they were down and she knew that she had better odds of dodging bullets she picked up one of the guns that had skittered across the now blood-stained floor and set to work. She shot the ones on point first as they were getting a little close, dropped a leg on some guy who was trying to grab her, caught his gun as he fell and shot him in the head. A dark-haired female officer cussed in Spanish as she walked into the room grabbing her gun from her shoulder holster. Electric green eyes snapped to her and she was shot in the right shoulder in an instant, the gun falling out of her hand. Turning and shooting three more men who were coming from behind she takes the top off the gun and jams it into another officer’s throat picking up two pistols she shot down another cop who had walked in before he could cock his shotgun. Blood now covered some of the walls in an indiscriminate pattern.

               “IIIIIIIII S-SHOULD HAVE WARNED YOOOOOOOOU!” Jester screams before she begins to cackle like the hellcat she is. Rushing the last few men, she slides through the pooling blood in the hall toward the now open shotgun. Picking it up, crouching, and cocking in a swift move she fires blowing one man about a yard back and scattering his insides all over part of one of the walls and the floor. Loading and spin cocking the gun Terminator-style, she proceeds to dispatch a few more policemen before she strolls out of the hall with five guns strapped to her and 6 more shotgun cartridges. More cops stand in front of her as she starts a bloodbath.

 Meanwhile

05:04 Gotham City Police Headquarters

 Jason Todd didn’t know what to think, but the Red Hood was already unholstering his pistols by the time he got inside the building. Once he got inside though, even the Red Hood froze. His babydoll was straight-up murdering the police. They stood no chance. Granted, he himself is capable of doing what she is doing right now but he had never had the cause. He never simply decided that he was going to murder an entire police station, but here she was doing exactly that. Gordon was returning fire with his revolver from behind an upturned desk, several other officers were taking a page from his book and using desks as shields too. The Jester was also behind a desk, more visible from his angle and using some complicated gun tricks and a mirror to further up her kill count.

               “By the Gods,” gasped Artemis from behind him to his left. She was right. This was almost Ares-level carnage. He almost turned around to alter the plan he set up somewhat when Jester made a move.

               Rushing to the right and into a smaller hallway off the room she shoots two more officers in the head and breaks into the room at the end of the small hallway. The police share a collective curse, still not having noticed the Outlaws in their headquarters. That room was evidence and weapons lock up. Guns from every recent arrest in the city were stored there. Now she had an arsenal.

               Arsenal, Jason’s best friend not thing that Jester was currently drooling over behind the doors of evidence lock-up, spoke up in Jason’s com right then: “Hey buddy? Need some help?” he offers coolly. Jason knows for a fact that this is now being televised and that his time was now super limited.

               “I am so glad to hear from you right now. Yes, I need you to find me the closest and most secure safehouse you can.” Jason was not about to tell his friend to come here. Not when he was still recovering from Slade kicking his bowed behind to Bludhaven and back. Roy lets out a curse, most likely due to not being invited to the fun.

               “Fuck you always know how to dampen my hopes, man. Alright. I’ll give you a location in 15 minutes.”

               “You have five, Hood out.”

 BOOM!

“Oh fuck! What’s happening now?!” one of the officers shouts. That came from evidence. Everybody’s head turns to see grenades coming out of lock-up. Shit. Artemis tackled him behind the desk closest to the Commissioner’s office. Starfire had dived the opposite direction with two other officers behind one of the vending machines that had been flipped sideways. The detonation killed one more officer leaving only the Outlaws, two detectives, Gordon alive. Jester took this opportunity, her pistols, and a machine gun and broke for the exit, spreading the ammo from the gun so that no one could shoot back at her. Once on the street, she booked it.

Jason cursed. Out of his grasp again.

 Batman was going to be pissed.

  19:00 Dock 19 Gotham City Harbor

Jester crawled out of the shadows to a familiar warehouse. One of the many lairs her father had and where she was to report if she ever got caught. Not even Batsy knew about this one. She walked inside with her head held low out of exhaustion. She had been careful not to be seen all day. But now that darkness had fallen she longed for a joint and her bed. Walking in past the lookouts who were very surprised to be seeing her so soon after she got caught by the Bats, she stumbled upon Ivy and Harley having date night on the couch. Gross. Choking down bile, she drags herself into her area she flops down onto a pile of beanbags and begins to grind.

Her head was spinning with adrenaline and stress and her hands shook when she opened her grinder. Taking out her jar of weed that Ivy, one of the secret villain stoners, had grown specifically for her. It was basically really strong Sherbet Indica times about twenty. She is just about done grinding when she finally gets noticed.

“Ah, look what the cat dragged in.” Harley teased while she was in Ivy’s arms. Ivy looked down on her with disapproval, Harley ignored her as always. She really needed to start learning that being a brat would only get you into trouble with the doms she hung out with. Rolling her eyes Jester decided to ignore her. But that never worked with Harley Quinn the bitch would only try harder. “I’m surprised your new boy-toy doesn’t have you tied up.”

“Oh, he did Harl and guess what? I can defiantly say that it was better than any action you’ve gotten from a guy lately.” Nodding her respect for Pam. That bitch’s tongue could solve world peace if used applicably and almost every female villain knew it. Jester included after one night of a lot of rough flirting. It took a lot of gin, but the look on Harley’s face was worth it.

“Like you would know? You’ve only had sex like what three times? And two of them were MY sloppy seconds!” she squeaked indignantly. Jester had to admit that stung. Joker had raped her twice shortly after her arrival in his custody. While the act had only lasted less than half an hour each time, the pain and the mental scarring had been debilitating for weeks. It was something for which not even Jester could forgive him.

“At least I’ve never had chlamydia!” Jester flung back at her, rolling her joint deceptively calm.

“You little skank! I’ve never had chlamydia!” Harley yelled just a little too loudly for it to be true. Pamela looked at her in a very motherly way. Tired of our shit.

“Yeah that’s why you had to put on that fugly looking brunette wig, so you could go to the free clinic last month. Remember me laughing at you after I drove you there?” Jester said smirking evilly from her rolling tray.

“I-I, you little-“ Harley was cut off by the booming rage of the Joker.

“JESTER COME HERE NOW!” and with that, Harley was sent into fits of glee, laughing so hard she fell off the couch.

“Y-you a-are in so much trouble.” She panted between giggling fits.

Jester rolled her eyes, took her joint, lit it, dragged, and puffed the smoke at Harley and ashed it on her while she was rolling on the floor with tears in her eyes laughing. She yelped when the hot ash burned her stomach. Jester snarled at her as she walked past Harley and Ivy and up the stairs that led to the upstairs part of the warehouse where her father was waiting.

“What happened!?” he yelled, spittle going everywhere.

“First, say it don’t spray it,” that earned her a hard slap, “Second, I ran into some unforeseen circumstances.” She shrugged and dragged her joint. That was all there was to say on the matter. She was not about to tell “I have killed people for looking at my daughter wrong” that she had reconnected with her old crush. Like hell.

“Oh, really? And what exactly were those unforeseen circumstances?” He was pissed now. It was all in the narrowing of his eyes, the intensity of their chemical glow, the twist of his smile. He rested his head on his hands with his eyes half-lidded. That was usually when people started to decorate the walls.

“A rather rambunctious and familiar pain in my ass by the name of Red Hood.” That was a double touch on her part cleverly disguised as a dig on the bat family.

“I see. Make sure our little failed boy blunder doesn’t ruin any other parties we have in the future due to your incompetence. Understand?” he’s sneering at this point.

“Understood.”

 “Just wait until you hear my plan for our next party, Daddy! I promise you will have the time of your life!”

 “I had better.”

 The smoke carried on into the shadows and dissipated.

@schweeeppess @dcuniverse-fanatic @dc-hoe @ravennightingaleandavatempus

[harringrovehouse]

Billy finds out about the Upside Down in May of 1985.

He’s with Trish Coopernan at ‘Lover’s Lake’. They’re writhing around in the Camaro’s back seat, Billy’s hand shoved under her neon pink sweater, and her hand shoved down his pants as they french. He wouldn’t have even noticed anything other than Trish’s talons on his junk if Max’s name didn’t echo around him. His head slams into the ceiling of the Camaro and he swears, pushing away from Trish to glare out at the trees around him. It’s 11am, on a fucking Tuesday. He doesn’t give one single fuck about the ‘promise’ he made to Max. If she’s out here, at fucking ‘Lover’s Lake’ with that Sinclair kid instead of in her fucking science class, Billy is going to kill them both. 

Trish whines at him as he scans the tree-line, looking for a hint of red. Once he finds her he’s going to drag her ass back to school by the braids she instead Susan do for her and make sure she knows to stay put. He hasn’t decided what to do with Sinclair yet. 

A thick bundle of branches about 20 feet away bursts open and out comes Max. She’s got blood on her knee and her shirt looks like it’s been ripped in a few places. She looks like she’s been crying, her face is pale and her eyes are red. She’s doesn’t seem to see the Camaro, but she is searching for something, her head whipping back and forth. Billy feels his blood boil slightly. Okay, he was going to drown Sinclair when he caught him. Angrily he climbs back into the driver’s seat, tucking his junk back in and fixing his shirt, eyes locked on Max as she pants for air. Behind him Trish clambers up to the front seat, she’s also looking at Max with a concerned look on her face. 

“Isn’t that your sister?” She asks as she pulls her skirt back up, Billy grunts in repose and throws his door open.

“She’s not my sister. Stay here.” He takes off at a run. Max is just far enough away that he has to make up the distance.

Billy’s less than 10 feet from her when the trees move again, and out tumbles Steve Fucking Harrington. He grabs Max, scaring her enough that she screams before he starts to pull her back into the trees. Billy can’t see Max’s face but she doesn’t seem to want to go, she trips over her own feet and Harrington has to lift her back up before he takes off with her. 

“Hey!” Billy screams. “Harrington!” No way is he about to let whatever the fuck is happening right now happen. He’s going to finish what he started in October and destroy Harrington. “Harrington you sick fuck!” Billy yells as he forces his way through the branches. Who knew, King Steve, the man everyone at Hawkins high looked up too, was a fucking pervert. A sick fuck who trapped little girls in the woods. Billy wonders if the whole town knows, if all those kids hanging around Harrington have been dragged into these woods. The thought makes him want to throw up, he’s a lot of things, but he doesn’t fuck with child rapists. 

“Max!” The scream is followed by another one of Max’s high pitched screams. Billy turns toward the sound and takes off. 

He’s making a lot of noise, breaking branches as he races towards the sounds of voices. Tiny droplets of blood hit the forest floor as the jagged ends of the branches slice his arms and neck. There’s another scream and then the sound of something making contact with flesh, and then silence. Billy feels his heart pick up. The image of an unconscious Max laid out on the ground, bleeding and broken while King Steve stands over her flashes in his mind and Billy’s vision blurs for a second. 

He stops just long enough to pick up a thick branch, it’s heavy enough that Billy thinks he could kill a man with it. He plans too. New weapon in hand he shoulders his way through the last of the trees, a stray branch slicing his arm open and stomps his way into the most disgusting clearing he’s ever see.

The trees are rotting where they stand, huge chucks of bark have fallen off and black puss leaks from the wounds they’ve left behind. It smells like raw sewage, and death. Billy gapes at the sight. It’s horrifying and in the center of the clearing, surrounding by the dead beaten bodies of some animal Billy can’t make out are Max and Steve.

They both look like shit. Max is still bleeding from her knee, and Harrington’s got a nasty cut on his shoulder where his shirt sleeve is ripped and the fabric is stained with blood. Harrington’s got his arm wrapped around Max, that same nail covered baseball bat in his hands as he swings her away from Billy. Putting himself between Max and whatever just entered the clearing. Protecting her from the new danger.

There’s a silent, eerie beat as he and Harrington take each other in. Billy’s hand clenched tightly on the branch and Steve brandishing his bat like a pro. 

“Hargrove?”

“Billy?”

Max and Steve shout at the exact same time. It echoes once, and then dies. Billy wonders if this clearing is cursed. If every, and all sign of life dies here.

“Billy you need to leave!” Max says as she shoves Harrington away from her, no longer afraid of Billy. Especially not with the crowbar she’s got in her hands. Had that always been there, Billy isn’t sure anymore.

“What the fuck is going on?” He tries to put as much venom behind his words as he can but they still come out shaky. Max rolls her eyes and waves the crowbar at him. “Why the fuck are you in the damn woods with my sister Harrington!”

Max steps closer. “Billy!”

“Whatever sick game this is ends now Max!”

“Billy listen!”

“No! No fuck no. You’re fucking coming with me and we’re getting out of this fucked up town.”

“Billy shut up and listen t-“

A screech echos behind him. It sends shiver up Billy’s spine. He goes for Max’s arm, grabs her tight and starts to drag her away. Max’s fights him but Billy’s grabs the crowbar from her hands and gives her a shake. “We’re leaving Maxine!”

“Billy! You’re going the wrong way asshole!” Max screams but Billy doesn’t listen. He’s taking Max home and they’re leaving this fucking town, he’ll drive the kid all the back to California if he has too. 

To his left a bush shakes and Max freezes, eye wide in terror. She starts begging for the crowbar back, tugging at Billy’s hand and yelling for Harrington. Who comes running, bat in hand and eyes hard. Billy stares between them, ready to start shouting at both of them before the bush rips open and a monster jumps out. An actual monster. It’s face opens and then it screams, it screams in Billy’s face and then Steve swings. There’s a sickening sound and the creature recoils. Harrington starts to bash the things head in, what can only be blood splatters across the ground and whatever green is there dies almost instantly.

“Run!” Steve scream, turning to Max and Billy. Billy mouths at him, eyes wide as he stares down at the thing that Steve has just killed. “Billy lets go!” And then Steve’s grabbing his hand and hauling him across the black clearing back into the woods, Max clings to Steve’s other hand and suddenly they’re running straight into two of the other kids Max hangs out with. 

“Steve!” They scream as they almost collide with them. Billy stares at them in horror, they also look like they’d been beaten up. The one with the curls has a black eye and the one Billy is pretty sure is related to Nancy Wheeler has a huge gash over his left eye. “Max!” They scream and Max rushes forward to hug them.

“I told you to stay in the car!” Steve snaps at them, dropping Billy’s hand and rushing forward. Billy watches as he goes to shakesthem but ends up wrapping himself around the three of them and sighing. “Next time stay in the car you shit heads.” 

“What. The. Fuck. Is happening Harrington!” Billy hears himself say. The four of them turn around to stare at him. 

“Billy Hargrove?” Probably Nancy’s brother says and Billy gives him a look. Steve turns to him and they stare at each other, clearly Steve’s at a lose for words. His eyes flick down to the crowbar, and Billy sees him tighten his grip on the bat. 

“Woah there cowboy.” Billy says dropping the crowbar, which Max rushes forward to grab. “Not looking to fight.” He lifts his hands up to prove he isn’t a danger. “But you have to level with me here, what happened back there, they,” He motions at the kids. “You all look like you’ve just been to hell and back.” 

“We kinda have asshole!” Curly says, it might have impressed Billy if he wasn’t hiding behind Max like a scared little kid. 

Steve shakes his head and shoves the curly one behind him. “Look there’s something about Hawkins you don’t know.”

“Steve.” The kids hiss at him but Steve holds his hand up at them, eyes hard. 

“We tell him. He saw-“

“The last time you tried to tell him he kicked your face in!”

“I didn’t kick his face in!” Billy snaps. “I punched his face in.” He tries to look like that doesn’t bother him, like the idea of losing control like that again doesn’t frighten the shit out of him but it does. Harrington gives him a look.

“Yeah last time he didn’t seem ready to listen, but he’s seen them now. He’ll listen.” Harrington is looking into Billy’s fucking soul. Billy looks away first and he can practically hear Harrington smirk.

Harrington begins to tell him a story. It starts a year ago with Will Byers going missing and Barbra Holland dying, about Harrington finding out about the monsters because he thought his girlfriend was cheating on him and then Jonathon Byers kicked his ass and he showed up at the Byers’ house to say sorry only to find Wheeler and Byers armed to the teeth and a fucking demon crawling it’s way from the walls. Harrington talks about how the Chief of Police and Mrs.Byers went to another dimension and saved Will Byers, and how everyone thought it was over only Will started having visions and then Dustin Henderson, Curly, found a baby demon in his trash and kept it. Which lead to a full out demon versus Harrington and friends fight. Which ended in the gate collapsing and Will Byers being freed from being possessed. 

Billy stands there and takes it all in. He remembers arriving to the Byers house in November of last year, seeing red When Harrington lied about Max. Bursting inside to see the fucking mess the house was, broken glass and drawings of something all over the walls. Had Harrington been trying to explain all this crazy to him that night?

“Listen man-“ 

If Billy hadn’t punched first would he have been told this same bat shit crazy story or would Harrington have thought of another lie. He was still struggling to figure out if that mattered when Harrington spoke again.

“None of that matter now because we have to get to Hop and tell him what’s happening! We were getting ready to go camping when we saw the demodogs. My cars all the way on the other side of the clearing. We sent Lucas and Will to flag someone down and head to Hop but it’s not safe to be here right now, we have to leave.”  Billy knows they won’t make it all the way across to Harrington’s car. But maybe they can make it to his. 

“Give me that back.” He snaps at Max, yanking the crowbar from her grip. “Okay shit heads listen up! I’m going to lead us back to my car, we’re all getting in and we’re going to leave understand! Harrington you’re in back, Max behind me no don’t fucking argue behind me right now! Wheeler, Curls fall in line!”

There’s arguments but surprisingly everyone seems to listen, and then they’re off looking like a freak show as they wind their way back through the dead clearing where the many bodies of the demodogs lay bloody and unmoving. Billy tightens his grip on the crowbar as they approach the thick bundle of trees he and Max had forced their way through earlier. He puts out a hand and listens, everyone stopping being him. They wait a beat before Billy decides it’s okay to move again, he swings the crowbar and break the branches so they can walk without hurting themselves more. 

The sound makes him cringe but if what Steve says it true blood attracts this thing, the last thing they need is to bleed more. A bird shakes the trees in front of them and Curly screams, Billy’s whole body tense up as he tries not to swing at it. Letting the white creature fly off into the heavens. He watches it go with a sour look on his face, how is anything alive so close to that cursed clearing. He grabs Max’s arm and hauls her up a small cliff drop he hadn’t noticed earlier, ignoring the huff she lets out at being lifted off the ground by him. He sets her back easily and waits for the other three to catch up.

To his horror he watches as Harrington sets the bat down to help Wheeler and Curly up , Wheeler’s about as athletic as a new born blob fish apparently. Harrington hands Billy the bat and then hauls himself up next to Billy, who gives him the bat back the second his feet his the ground. 

“Plant your feet.” Billy tells him without the venom he used to have. Harrington actually smirks at him before taking the bat and ushering the kids back into formation. Billy takes the front of the line again, ready to bash some monster brains. He can see the edge of Lover’s Lake now, can make out the loud sound of his radio blasting Van Halen. They’re almost home free.

Something bursts free from the bushes in front of them, Harrington is at his side in seconds as they face down yet another demodog. This one looks different than the others. Bigger, almost older. Billy tightens his grips and swings just as the creature launches itself at them. He ends up missing it, but manages to stab it’s belly. The sound it lets out makes Billy’s ears ache. 

“Hold it down!” Harrington screams as he rushes forwards, boot flying out to kick the demodog in the side and his bat swing down. Billy waits just long enough for it to become distracted by Harrington bashing it’s head in before he twists the crowbar and yanks it out. 

The demodog screeches, it’s huge mouth opening wide as Harrington rains down on it. Billy straightens and joins Harrington in bashing the creatures skull in. Watching as it finally gives up and dies. 

“Lets go!” Harrington says, turning to the kids and grabbing Billy’s shaking wrist. The five of them break through the brush line and make a wild dash towards Billy’s Camaro. 

Trish is nowhere to be seen. Billy swears and calls out her name, hoping maybe she just needed to pee or something! But silence.

“Fuck! Trish!” Harrington calls out, shoving the kids into the car. “Trish it’s me Steve!!” And Billy’s reminded that Steve used to be the King of Hawkins. Billy goes to open the driver’s side, and find the handle is covering in blood. Billy turns to Harrington, lifting his hand into the air and they share a look, this isn’t good.”

“Get in.” Harrington says and he throws Billy’s passenger’s side seat back, climbing in himself and yelling at the kids to shut up! Billy doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s in the driver’s seat in seconds.

“Hold on.” He snaps at them, turning the car on and peeling out of the small parking lot. 

Behind them the trees rustle. Billy rips his eyes away from them before whatever is there can exit, he tightens his grip and focus on the road. Next to him Harrington whips around, eyes now locked on the road and hand coming up to grip Billy’s arm. It’s a heavy weight that Billy decides to ignore, for now. Maybe this town isn’t such a shithole after all.

[sugar-petals]

bleeding hearts and happy days [m.]

❖ pairing. | dom!reader x sub!taehyung x sub!baekhyun

❖ summary. | you meet up with two escorts in an abandoned hotel room. 

❖ a/n. | tumblr doesn’t like my sad horny shakespearean fic right here, this is a reupload. random parts of the story disappeared without a trace, so here we go again. 

❖ word count. | 7.1k

❖ genre. | smut, angst, prostitution au, drama — starcrossed lovers

❖ warnings. | major character death implied, polyamory, threesome, bdsm, bondage, femdom, noona kink, cigarettes on skin, smoking kink, harnesses, ball gags, riding, pregnancy kink, crying, slapping, bruises, lace & mesh, tattoos, bj with teeth, lactation kink, aftercare, tae doms baekhyun briefly, hair-pulling, neck pain, spanking, unhealthy relationships, infertility, medication, alcohol, mentioned abuse, jealousy/rivalry, motorcycle accident

❖ masterlist

It’s so late that the reception is long closed. Nobody in this hotel bothers with anything, really. But he has Room 31′s rusty key and a little note with your name on it.

Determined to find the right corridor fast since his watch says he’s running late. Fifteen minutes past the usual time.

The client earlier had simply been a pain, but that’s just life. He moves on, takes the money. One bruise more or less won’t make him any more shattered at this point.

Finding the floor isn’t so difficult. As he suspected, the Incheon Royal is a small hotel indeed despite its big name.

Everyone knows the Royal's heyday has already passed.

It’s harder to tell from the outside because of the neighboring houses that blend into the building complex. All of them are ugly as shit. So Baekhyun would not spend too much time looking at them. He would rather rummage in his red bag to see if he didn’t forget anything.

He’d rather look at you, no matter how bitter-sweet the feeling in his chest is.

That’s why he agreed to do all of this in the first place.

31 is halfway posh judging by the door, but still quite a tiny spot in the very last corner of the house, first floor. Most of the lighting here is defunct, so he uses the brightness of his phone screen boasting a holiday picture from Osaka. He’s glad he got the keys. Knocking would feel so weird, you’ve never done this before.

Fucking each other in a hotel, that is.

You usually meet Baekhyun at his place, or the place as he always says. Which is cozy because he knows how to decorate it with lights and fabric. Who knows who taught him all that. His little space there is great. Unlike the shabby wall that welcomes him here in Room 31′s little hell. The door’s appearance has been deceptive enough. There’s no stench coming from somewhere dodgy in this apartment, gladly. But that’s a very low standard, isn’t it?

And who had the idea to rent this — Kim Taehyung, that handsome motherfucker.

Baekhyun promises himself to smoke five cigarettes later.

He turns to find you in the bathroom trying to detangle your hair after a busy day. The sixth album of The Doors is on repeat in the living room. It makes him hum to the beat, he’s heard it so often. You’re rolling down your stockings when he enters, laughing.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, this is—”

“Quite perfect, pretty messed up.”

And you’re certain about this. No other spot in the outskirts of Incheon City would be better. Taehyung is not as naïve as literally anyone at the place thinks.

“He booked it with good reason.”

“You sure?”

Baekhyun puts down the key, his bag, and joins you at the sink. He apologizes with three, four, five kisses that it took so long. His lips are chapped.

Every minute stolen hurts each time.

You tousle your hair a bit more.

He strips down and steps into the shower with only his lacy top on — because he knows you like it. It hides some scars, too, ones that he still feels shameful of. There are little roses and thorns embellishing the areas, it’s a lace pattern you haven’t seen on him yet. It’s new.

You’re glad that your money does find its way even if his debt eats it all up. He got himself a new motorcycle as well. Not the fanciest one, but it does the job. It’s parked behind the hotel, he says.

The shower is quick and shallow as not to smudge his makeup. There's already a silent arrangement, it’s your job to do that. He does sing, proud that he gets the more difficult notes right, and says that you don't have to bother with the brushes and combs. You know he'd have your head between your legs by now, but today's different.

Baekhyun continues to belt out more, whatever comes to his mind, and you can almost forget that it's Room 31 you're in.

You want to show him the towels when there’s a hastened knock on the door. He's huffing.

“The sucker's here!”

Baekhyun hurries outside the bathroom, leaving wet blotches all over the carpet on his way. Not that anybody in this hotel would care. Who knows when this carpet has been inspected for the last time.

You hear Taehyung’s agitated, happy voice alternate with Baekhyun’s scolding in the entrance room after the door creaks open. You think your hair won’t get any better no matter what you try anyways, and peek out of the bathroom door grinning.

“I like it here. It’s got antiques, they’re just really dusty.”

“See!” says Taehyung who currently leans an umbrella against the wall. “Knew she likes places like these.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. But he won’t say anything now. Taehyung pulls off his trenchcoat smiling. You point at his umbrella.

“It really rained?”

“Was just a quick shower, the weather isn’t bad. Did he have it worse?”

Taehyung cocks a brow up at still-wet Baekhyun.

“Washed up, you just interrupted. The question is, are you clean?”

“Cleaner than a senior getting naked for a client faster than it’s normal.”

Baekhyun bites down hard on his bottom lip. You pull both of them into the living room where the TV is on, showing Cher’s greatest hits or something. It’s just the music channel. Taehyung instantly starts swaying to the beat while Baekhyun remains stiff.

In any other case, he’d probably swallow it up and act like it’s nothing. Clients pay more for a threeway than when he just shows up solo.

But it’s you.

He has learned that he can be himself. Good and bad sides. The latter he has many of. Maybe more of. Taehyung would agree.

To be fair, Baekhyun bears the brunt of questionable clients at his place so you don’t resent him for it. You don’t know about Taehyung. He’s probably not seen the dark side of the business yet. It’s his second time with you and Baekhyun is joining.

In fact, Baekhyun first recommended him to you for an individual session.

Cher keeps on singing, almost taunting while Taehyung flings his mesh jacket to the side and gets into position. You’ve thought a long time about how you’d do all of this, but you got the details down. And everyone agreed. Baekhyun never hesitated.

“Baek, can you pass me the bag?” Taehyung wriggles on the tacky sofa.

“Hey, uppity. It’s not yours. I’ll do that.”

And Baekhyun goes to get the bag and a towel to dry up a bit. The lace top sticks to his chest like a second skin. You can see how he moves his torso differently because he wants to show it off to you.

He returns with two ropes, two polished red ball gags.

Taehyung actually does stay perfectly still when Baekhyun starts making his usual chest harness. Loop here, strap there. It’s astounding how much more serious he is when Taehyung is with him.

You’d pay the world for them, even if Baekhyun once said he’d do it for free because he loves you. He had one bottle too much back then.

Cher switches to Barbra Streisand.

Taehyung grins weirdly once the gag is in place, provoking your smile. He knows he fucked you so good last time that you figured two times the bliss was a good idea. He still has a bruise that's rather colorful.

You proceed to fixate Baekhyun in a similar bondage style. It only takes a bit longer. His hair has dried up a fair bit; the spikes of his bangs almost get into his eyes.

He whispers once you have to bend down closely next to his head.

“Missed it too much. Y/N. They fucked me up.”

You suppress an urge to cry by pulling the rope tighter than usual where you would keep it deliberately loose. All the frustration in the world goes into this one rope. Maybe if you knot him up extra hard, he’ll forget about the days when it’s not you screwing him at the place but another oily, bearded scumbag peeing on him or some priss with gnawed off nails.

“No condoms, as usual?”

He always asks without failure, no matter how often he’s said it. It must have been a hundred times. Your answer is always the same, too.

“Wish something could actually grow in there.”

It’s never easy to say. But the look that follows in Baekhyun’s eyes has never ceased to gleam.

“Don’t you ever worry about it, Noona.”

You can’t reply for long.

“And him?” is all that comes out.

“Taehyung’s tested as well, doc came in on Friday. Seokjin can be strict on us if he really wants it. He can’t risk losing another regular.”

Seokjin, head of the place. You do like him, much more than the majority of other boys that Baekhyun sometimes has to recruit. Taehyung being one of them was a stroke of luck. You still prefer to ride Baekhyun for the night, and have the rope do its job.

But Taehyung does look beautiful tonight with his glossy lips and shiny red pants. When he peels them off, even failing to get it right once or twice, the feeling in your chest is less numb.

Baekhyun's tense, but hard enough for you to slip down on. It’s less than graceful, but you do manage somehow, fingers intertwined with the harness. The pace is raw. You're not wet enough, and he can't get it upright completely. Today’s different.

It's too much effort. Taehyung mires with big eyes and groans away when you bring Baekhyun alive with a couple thrusts. Harder than usual. Little goosebumps loom under the cover of his lace top. Taehyung’s still moaning and grinding, trying to get some friction from the rope that would lend the pleasure he is longing for. But it only hurts. That’ll do, too.

Whatever body spritz Baekhyun is always using, now that it’s gone you can smell the real him. Any shower in the world could not clean him from the way people have treated him for a few dimes, but he’s happy knowing you like his scent as it is.

It’s very sweet naturally, not rich and balmy like any perfume in his collection, nor dusty and rosy and all sandalwood, whatever they use to make it smell really thick. He’s just Baekhyun how you adore him. Vulnerable. Bound underneath you, breath so heavy, inside of you at the mercy of your hips.

A slap to the cheek only makes him harder. Taehyung struggles next to you trying to touch himself.

“Selfish boys get two.”

And you slap Taehyung twice. Three times for good measure. So strong, your own palm hurts. Even if he shakes from the impact, he still scrambles for more and tries to reach his cock. You spit on his face and turn to focus on Baekhyun again, leaving Taehyung red and sulking, even more eager.

You know exactly who taught him how to be so insatiable.

It’s easy to peel off the lacey hem at Baekhyun’s abdomen. You didn’t use too much rope to cover the area. It’s deliberate. Between your fingers blooms the tattoo that he got for your anniversary. The day has been kept secret, although people knew Baekhyun went to the parlor in a more lofty part of town.

It's a fragile stem with a row of bleeding hearts. Some opened, some still buds.

The ink’s crimson color is more vibrant than ever. How he smells like could very well be the scent of flowers, or at least you imagine it to be like that.

The tattoo marks the spot where Baekhyun is the most sensitive. It’s not enough to bounce hard on his cock until he thinks you’ll rip his foreskin right off, it’s not enough to tighten around him, making feel he suffocates just by that.

No, only the bleeding hearts make a difference.

“Who are you to me?” you say, and face the truth looking into his eyes.

“I’m your, your bitch.”

“And what does a bitch do?”

“Give you the best seed I have.”

“Then breed me good, bitch!”

Your thumbs circle in to stroke the tattoo. Not much is needed until he chews on his lip again. Baekhyun's skin is so soft in that spot, you think he went out of the way not shaving it to keep a few of his thin little hairs there.

The blood pressure pops a vein or two in his eyes when you shove your fingers into his mouth and half down his throat. He’s coughing. You keep your hips still for Baekhyun to shoot you up with his dripping release, and continue to bounce taking all the hot cum deeper.

Whenever he stopped counting the positions you tried, you gave up wanting to make it all stay inside.

Taehyung’s gonna sneer over how everyone knows it anyways.

That you’re creaming Baekhyun’s dick without protection every time, and probably have fifteen of his samples in your gyno’s basement freezer. Or your own. He once joked that you’re probably mixing it with a milkshake every morning just to be sure. He knows it tastes good.

When Baekhyun’s semen comes dripping out, you free Taehyung from his ball gag hoping something good and uplifting would come out of his mouth.

“Ever tried using his tears instead, Y/N?”

You were wrong.

The ball gag goes back. You cover the tattoo while Baekhyun’s chest finds its normal rhythm again. As an only solace, the moldy air in the hotel room is now tinted with Baekhyun’s sweat through and through. You say the words as you always do without exception.

“You’ll be my baby father so soon. We’ll be lucky this time.”

“Am all yours.”

Taehyung just sighs, wriggling more again.

"Cheesy fucks can't help it."

Click. Click, click. The lighter has been used so often, you need to give it a go three times until the flame remains standing.

They don’t bother. The hotel. Who knows if they have ever seen the day that the smoking ban was announced back in, well. Many, many years ago. Baekhyun’s jacket had left you with a vast variety to pick from.

And so, he smokes. No hands, you’re the one to tap off the ashes on Taehyung’s chest. In the hopes that it will leave some painful traces. Taehyung hates being a rookie. If there’s something that brings in cash, it’s that he’s experienced and it shows.

Even if he winces every time, or a tear comes from the corner of his eye, he doesn’t make a single noise. His cock stays down, what else would it do, he’s getting burned alive. Baekhyun smiles with the cigarette between his teeth, inhaling a bit deeper each time. The smoke mingles at the ceiling where a broken chandelier dangles back and forth.

He knows how much it hurts, you’ve done it to him twice. Or maybe three times because you’ve asked to do it again. Of course, Taehyung has seen what refused to heal on Baekhyun’s arms and shoulders for weeks. Maybe in the showers. He got jealous, that’s all you know.

“Thighs? Looks empty on there.���

You flick the cigarette from Baekhyun’s mouth again. Taehyung nods, but regrets the decision when you stub the glowing end right in the middle of the curved leg. It’s the spot where he takes care to wax the most. He’s crying, and Baekhyun laughs again.

“Now you’ve got what you wanted. That’ll stay,” he says.

Taehyung opens his mouth for the first time to speak through the tears. The gag leaves its place. The glossy lips part, more demure than ever.

“Thank you, N— noona!”

You reply pinching at Taehyung's loins. The cigarette is back between Baekhyun’s teeth.

“That's what got your dick up, didn’t it.”

Taehyung can only mouth a little Yes. He exhales, averts his gaze. No more eye contact. Just a whimper. You know it's Baekhyun who taught him that.

The cigarette smoke is denser now that you dedicate all of your attention to Taehyung. The grip on his shaft is harder than the first time he came to you. When you thought he'd be so fragile, being new to the game. But you found out he can take a whole lot. Much more than Baekhyun if you’re being honest about it.

Your clit is where the tip of his cock belongs, and where it is abused. Rubbing it, poking it, sliding it back and forth reckless abandon. Smearing Baekhyun’s cum all over the place until it feels all grimy and cold, making its way down your inner thighs. They both observe it drip, and things get hazy in the smoke.

Your fingers give Taehyung tough love in another tight seize so no pre-cum dares to peak out. It’s only until you shake him back and forth that it gets to a level where you feel at least some stimulation. Pressing him against your clit feeling how he trembles from the friction. His little noises amuse you each time.

More whimpers. You continue with a firm hold on his shaft, hoping to find out how far he can please you. He’s getting a taste of what it’s like when you grow your nails out. And shake him more. The feeling becomes stronger. Maybe he can satisfy you today. Work’s been tough, it's deeply needed.

You take a deep breath to inhale the cloud of nicotine that’s been building all around, and ride the wave it brings. Baekhyun will get you hooked on these, fuck him. But you’re breathing it with Taehyung’s dick grazing between your legs.

It's providing at least a bit of heat now that you've gone cold. Making you feel something Baekhyun increasingly won’t manage to fulfill. Well, unless he keeps whispering “I’ll knock you up, mommy” with his cock balls deep up your ass. Because by now, you both believe it’s likelier that you get pregnant this way. Taehyung on the other hand just has to mumble anything to turn you on. His voice is so raspy and deep. Everything about his body feels vital, and voluptuous, so pretty, so fertile.

Baekhyun knows that.

And if that’s what will get you going, he’ll watch like this.

With you cumming all over Taehyung’s cock. It’s such a beautiful icing. The relief is not only physical, but mental. You still chafe him across your labia with no end in sight, because those are the seconds you pay for that Baekhyun can’t give you. Taehyung is glad to be so hard, otherwise he’d break like a straw. You love how thick his girth grows, it likes your hands and their pressure, and you coating him with a fresh creamy glaze.

If Baekhyun is your bitch, Taehyung is your personal joystick to drip on.

You don’t pay him as well as you would like to, but he’s ridiculously cheap. Seokjin won’t let him take tips unless he fucked his way up, it’s how it is. He’s not made a name for himself yet, but the orgasms he gives you leave a special feeling for countless minutes after. It’s probably how much cash Baekhyun makes that causes Taehyung to work so much harder. You can see it in his eyes. But if all goes well, he won’t get money to clear a dozen figures debt like Baekhyun does. That’s what keeps him going. Or maybe he just has a magic dick.

Baekhyun knows the answer. He’d pay Taehyung to get you off himself if only Seokjin allowed it. But, as far as you know, the place has plenty of rules.

Baekhyun can’t stop grinning, but you don’t. Your high faded when he ogled the pack of cigarettes again. There are only few of them left inside, all in shambles.

“Your lungs are tar black already. Before your heart is...”

A few last puffs swirl to the ceiling when you take the cigarette to the center glass table where it fades out. The smell still lingers. You return to flip him around on the spot. A series of firm slaps find their way to Baekhyun’s ass. Every strike buries him deeper in the pillows face down.

“That’s for laughing. If someone laughs, it’s me. Did you get that, babe?”

“I apologize!”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t!”

“His pain is mine to enjoy. Not yours.”

Another smack.

“I promise, I won’t do it again, Noona, please! I won't!”

“Taehyung even said thank you. When will you ever say that, bitch?”

“You know I’ll never be ungrateful, you know it.”

"Mean it, baby?"

"Really do."

Baekhyun is crying. With a bright red ass and makeup completely smudged into the pillow. These are possibly the only two things he has not given up being vain about, and you love ruining them. At the end of the day, it’s what he finds enjoyable about his profession. You’re the only one who is allowed to do it, after all.

“Been a while since I could see you blush. Not just in the face,” you poke his left buttcheek, eliciting a little sniff. “Pity that you cake it on, you always have to cry for me to get that shit off.”

You get to loosen up Taehyung’s rope now. It left deep traces, but it looks good on him.

“The day he wears no makeup is the day he dies,” Taehyung twirls at Baekhyun’s hair, and they both have to smile through the tears.

“At least he’s self-aware,” you drag up the lithe body from the pillow to cry at your chest. You’ve got a white shirt on, but who cares. “Why not cry a bit more for me, baby?”

And maybe Taehyung was right with tears.

Baekhyun has a hard time swallowing up Taehyung’s cock the way you want it. Every tug and shove at the back of his head makes him want to throw up more. All over the place like a decoration for Taehyung’s abdomen, but there’s nothing in his stomach that could possibly come up beside some bitter pulp and a pill. But he keeps on shoving himself down to the rhythm dictated by your hand in his hair, and hopes for the best.

Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke today.

Who knows how often he’s done that. Maybe it’s the only thing his throat is ever useful for. If he's fucked up, he's vivid. Talk's worthless, there is no sense in it. Throwing up on someone's balls at least makes him feel that there's still a bit of life somewhere in his gut. But he'd rather keep it down for the sake of the other.

Food he’s given up on. But if he’s fed cock by you, maybe he feels better about himself. With a little practice, Taehyung is good breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He’ll consider blowing him some other time, maybe with a camera and client involved for some extra cash. Nothing’s for free. Gagging and taking it on the face gets him a bonus, too. Deepthroat is where the money is.

The pain at the back of his neck won’t be getting any better, but his tongue can’t complain. Taehyung did clean himself up just like he said. He could make it far, further than Baekhyun himself, with a huge waiting list at the place. But one thing he can’t do is choke so violently like this. One day, Taehyung might learn even that. A fast learner, isn't he? Yet as long as he gets a cock big enough rammed into his skull on the daily, Baekhyun's the best out there, and the worst in its best sense. If his brain comes out one day, he won't complain either. One less thing to worry about.

Bitches are dumb, that's what they are. Dumb as fuck. They give their mistress good semen instead. And get over neck pain.

The pace is vile. He knows that your arm won’t give up thrusting him down anytime soon. Baekhyun imagines how it must be like having your eyes. How it would be like to see it. Him trying to handle Taehyung’s dick with just a small mouth, good cheeks, no teeth, and a little courage. Gagging and drooling spit all over the place and half unconscious because it’s so good. You love his glossy eyes. They’re always so gorgeous. Baekhyun must be the most beautiful boy in the whole world when he does that. But he's too fast stuffing himself.

Of course, he throws up. Who wouldn’t, you have both of your index fingers hooked inside the corners of his mouth to keep him open wide, and Taehyung just keeps on thrusting his hips upward. The bitter taste alone makes Baekhyun vomit again, this time on the carpet. He’s so dizzy. He needs more cock to feel full and healthy again. You want to give him a minute, but he’s faster than that. Though less swift than Taehyung who knows that once Baekhyun’s stomach is already empty, he can pound away and fully destroy him. But both of them have to obey your pacing.

And this time, your tugging at Baekhyun’s hair is slow and gentle. So Taehyung follows that, too. Baekhyun’s lips look blurry, so crimson all around, and you make sure to hold his head down entirely to swallow Taehyung’s balls. Fucking his neck up entirely so his next client will be desperate in trying to use it, and failing. It's the only way he'll ever be yours. Taehyung's balls inside of him or not.

As far as he can judge with the bitterness in his mouth, they do taste good. Hallelujah, what a day. It’s just that his throat can only handle so many, and cracked lips are hell on earth. Gladly Taehyung has brittle stamina, especially because it’s Mister tightest throat alive sucking him off. At least that’s how the other boys call Baekhyun at the place. He keeps on sucking with that in mind, but the tug at his hair leaves no room for contemplation, nor does Taehyung's growling.

You've heard it before. It's so needy, but deeply hurt. Baekhyun bites down on him at the tap of your finger on his little wrist. The signal.  

Taehyung blows up all messy and sticky until it drops out of Baekhyun’s nose. It's less bitter. How long did he have blue balls? It must have been more than an hour. You do the signal again for Baekhyun to unclench his jaw and bob his head again, to get at least a bit of Taehyung’s semen down. Because ultimately, the more you make him move, the more he has to cough and swallow. Breathing is hard now, but he’ll manage for the remaining seconds until you let go of his hair. He gags down the rest, even with vomit. His eyes are empty, but his cheeks glow.

“My baby did amazing.”

You wipe your sleeve at his nose. It wets almost immediately. Baekhyun sniffs and declines the sleeve, which you retreat. He's exhausted.

At least he doesn't do coke. He does cum.

Baekhyun pops off scrambling at your t-shirt almost immediately, and you curse yourself for not getting rid of it earlier. Even if Taehyung and literally anybody else at the place thinks it’s a little bit silly despite it being so standard, Baekhyun loves to suck your tits to calm himself down. For half an hour, well if he can, attaching to one breast at a time with both hands and his rosebud mouth. If they’d give him even one drop of milk, he would swim the entirety of the Pacific and back to drink it.

Taehyung giggles along while you pull off your shirt and have a clumsy go at it — Baekhyun’s too dizzy still, so he misses the mark as it usually happens. Although Taehyung is easily shushed, it still feels awkward. So you ask him to join. They alternate between sucking and kissing each other, having Taehyung taste his own cum and lubricating Baekhyun’s lips with it. What’s all over the carpet doesn’t really matter. It’s just the smell that makes you want to switch rooms. It’s all over Taehyung, too. So you decide to have the boys finish quite early into today's new fourty minute goal, suavely parting from your breast. The side where Baekhyun had led feels like it was about to tinge, but then again, just leaves a tense aureola for once. Next time, you ponder, would be a good time to admonish him. It's not like sucking dick where you get more for the heavier sucks. It's like love where there is a fine line between trying too hard and doing it just right.

The cubicle of the shower is calcified and rustier than the key to the apartment itself, nor do three people really fit inside the entire construction to begin with. But the showerhead works, so you use that one to get at least a bit of water rain down, and manage to get the grime off the boys and your breasts. Taehyung looks happy when you use too much soap on him, and tries to mess with Baekhyun’s hair so it’ll stand up vertically. With limited success, but Baekhyun is at least trying to retaliate getting Taehyung’s bubbly hair in a mess.

He’s not as sleepy as he usually is, which turns out to be a good sign as you think of it. Baekhyun has probably been rejecting one or two late-night clients recently. He never used to do that. For the sake of his rep, his wallet, his peace of mind because his perfectionism wouldn’t let him off the hook to have a good night’s sleep instead. But he’s not been busy so often in the last three weeks, you can tell by his social media updates and his texts. It’s rare that he gets a break or has the financial backing for it. Then again, it’s only been two clients or so. The ones who’d rather make him unable to go on working, so it would be counterproductive to spread his legs for them. Or maybe it was just Seokjin who made him take a day off out of necessity.

“You stole three of my clients!” Baekhyun goes on shoving water into Taehyung’s direction. “This is what you get for it!”

And there it is. You were wrong again.

“Can’t help being popular,” Taehyung replies ever so nonchalantly by taking the showerhead from you and spritzing Baehyun down head to toe until all the soapy mess is gone. “Clients aren’t deaf to house gossip, they pick new favorites each week.”

You snatch the showerhead back from the braggart and turn it in his direction at full blast. He ends up squealing and dancing in circles to avoid the water where it goes, but soon falls into Baekhyun’s arms because the shower floor is too slippery. Baekhyun flinches a bit when Taehyung rubs against him by accident.

"The tattoo?" Taehyung asks. You rummage with the soap again.

"Never had a day where it didn't feel sensitive," Baekhyun says.

"I want something like that, too, Noona!"

"Tae, you don't have a weak spot as far as I know."

"Really?"

"At least to this degree."

"What was getting it done like?"

"He fainted outside the parlor."

"No way!"

"He didn't drink and eat enough that day and it was boiling hot. The pain was only pulling the trigger on him."

You turn off the showerhead and towel down Baekhyun — save his face of course. He clings to the rest of what’s on there come fire or high water.

Before you can dry up Taehyung, the power is down in the hotel. Only the street lights illuminate the bathroom where you go by their silhouettes to finish up. You can’t tell whether it’s Taehyung, Baekhyun, or both kissing you quick in the dark. It's wet, it's cold, everything spins. A bad feeling in your gut lingers past their sloppy mouths that the night is over, and you're nowhere near the same as before. None of you is.

By the time Taehyung gets his phone to lighten up the hallway, power is back.

“I put some beetroot in the fridge. Go get yourself a slice or two, baby.”

Baekhyun shuffles into the corner, takes a tablecloth to open the fridge because the handle is crusty and yellow. The inside it halfway clean, especially since you put some plates in there earlier. And beetroot. It’s one of the few things he actually likes. It tastes disgusting, leaves red and violet blotches everywhere, and won’t ever make him full. That’s precisely why he likes it. You buy it because of whatever vitamins it has. Taehyung just thinks its weird and sometimes leaves cookies in the hallway for Baekhyun to chew on after he took two clients or so.

“There’s noodles, too. From Mr. Kim’s delivery. If you eat half of it, maybe mommy gives you a kiss on the forehead.”

You’re half joking. Or maybe not. Baekhyun considers the plate at least, removes the wrap, and smells at it. He picks up a fork wordlessly and stirs the meal. Since he doesn’t like being watched while eating, you and Taehyung sit down in the other room to have some chicken. The door in between is shut not to distract him with the smell. You do hear the fridge open and close two times while eating with Taehyung.

He says you did a good job. His chest still hurts. And Baekhyun really bit down hard blowing him so he can still feel it. His Friday clients will appreciate how it'll look like. He’s gonna have his asshole ravaged so hard, some unnerved doc has to stitch it back in. But now’s not the time to think about it. The chicken is delicious and you look so beautiful. He could get used to this. One day he might even have enough money to buy you some elaborate seafood dish from the luxury restaurant opposite to Mr. Kim. Be a good boy to you, get a big tip and a nice fuck. Life could be a dream and chicken is a splendid glimpse of it.

After more rummaging noises in the kitchen, Baekhyun returns with a little soy sauce showing around his mouth. He looks so downcast. You ask how he feels.

"You already know," he mumbles.

"Baby, sometimes even I can't read your mind."

"Hm."

"If you don't want to say it, that's okay."

"Noona..."

"Yes?"

He slumps down next to you, having the corners of his mouth wiped by Taehyung, who also wants to poke his cheeks but retreats his hands when Baekhyun doesn't react.

“Am just an A-class whore," he rubs his neck. "With nowhere to belong. Not worth a dick or dime.”

His voice is hoarse. You kiss his shoulders where the rope wasn't too tense.

“No, you’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I—”

“You belong here,” you lay your palm flat on your lap. Then below your chest where the heart is, “here. And here.” You finally place Baekhyun’s little hand at your forehead. “You already know you’re in there all the time, fucker. I'm thinking of you.”

“Some days I...”

“Hush, no more. Off with you to get some sleep.”

"Are you satisfied, Noona?"

"More than words can say. Now, come."

Taehyung guides Baekhyun into the corridor by the hand, checking his own rope marks before covering up. They have half faded, but the ones at his hip remain prominent and still burn a bit too much. Taehyung mumbles something about "cream later" and stuffs his top into the hem of his trousers. Baekhyun says that there's some stuff in his bag to mend it, but Taehyung declines.

“Well look at your makeup,” he coos and wipes down Baekhyun’s cheeks as if he didn’t see him cry.

It’s mostly sweat, isn’t it.

“Hotel Room service got a job tomorrow,” Baekhyun fastens his belt.

“It would be a surprise if that’s even a thing here. I thought you looked around?” you twinkle at him.

“I only see you.”

Taehyung huffs at that with an eye roll, phone out to text Seokjin. He gets a fast reply. He does watch out for his darlings every way, doesn’t he. You’ve met him countless times, he always does your bookings, too. You're sure he'll take care of Baekhyun tonight so he can sleep well.

“You don’t go home?” Taehyung blinks at you.

“I’m staying overnight, it’s convenient. Namjoon arranged a meeting with the team in the city centre tomorrow, just a five-minute walk so I don’t have to commute.”

“At least don’t sleep close to one of these dusty moldy things, Noona,” Baekhyun mumbles.

He nods his head in the direction of the almost decomposing stereo where The Doors are still playing.

“Says my baby hypocrite who’s gonna chain-smoke two packs when he’s out the door.”

You kiss him on the nose. It’s tender.

“Three if I can,” he smiles.

“Ugh, just go and pull a Shakespeare,” Taehyung snorts. He takes his umbrella and shakes it dry. “He’d spew some better jizz without the cigs anyway. That's why your eggs are done for, too. Fucking passive smokers complaining.”

But Baekhyun already picks up the red bag. He’s got the little note with your name on it tucked in at the side. It’s still from the first time you came to him. He did his best to keep any crease out of it. Taehyung looks down realizing that neither of you will talk about it, closing his trench coat. You kiss his forehead and make a silent promise to yourself to invite him again sometime, in a better hotel than this one.

A less pretty messed up place.

Wet drops from the umbrella are the last thing lingering on the carpet when you hear their voices blur in the distance of the corridor. Baekhyun pops a pill before turning the key in at the reception by placing it on its little bronze hook between Room 30 and 32.

Taehyung says he’ll take the car to pick up some groceries at the other end of the main street, and going to Mr. Kim’s to stock up. In the dim light of the backyard, they say goodbye and Baekhyun fastens his leather jacket. He gets out his gloves climbing the motorcycle parked in the corner with a deep exhale. Everything hurts. His ass feels like it could fall apart any second just sitting. All the dirty makeup has come off entirely by now judging by the tired reflection of the side mirror. His lace top is sticky against his chest underneath the jacket already. It’s cold sweat dripping down to his abdomen. The hearts are truly bleeding now.

Epilogue: Osaka

All of the streets are empty like his mind. He’ll get fucked up with another bottle later while Taehyung appeases some late-night clients. Probably by charming the bouncer a bit more than usual and telling him that Baekhyun took a lot of pills. Which won't be a lie. Your next time is already scheduled. Until then, Baekhyun hopes nobody finds drugs in the wrong spot or they let minors in by chance and the press picks up on it. The place is just too corrupt to prevail for a long time either way. Maybe he can move in with you next year if he isn’t done for by then. Enjoy a July afternoon in Seoul downtown, an iced coffee, an evening on the terrace opposite Mr. Kim's where there's live music. Pay the bills because it’s romantic. Pay the taxes because it's what a good citizen does. Quit smoking, retire from the place and earn money elsewhere. Eat healthy and get a proper sample for the fridge. Prepare to be a good father if you’re lucky that time. Be less deadbeat and more alive. Forget about everything. Maybe one day you’ll have fucked him so much, you pretty much bought him whole and he’s free. No debt left, no memories. That's why he hates to eat, it puts him as far away from that state of mind as possible: An everlasting blank slate. The final solace that never really came.

Recently, he has been wondering if that time ever comes. He coughs up blood, he can’t sleep, his lungs are so tense when breathing. Only more smoking can ease the pain, right? He’s so stupid. A bright red Friday circle brightens up his calendar in three weeks, that’s good news. Around the hours when you plan coming home from work. You’ll be meeting in your flat for the first time. There will be coffee, not iced, but not any more bottles and power down every two hours. Seokjin agreed he can go there as long as he does what he’s supposed to do, and brings back the money he’s supposed to get. But three weeks are a long time. Those are many clients out the door with his dignity on the line, and how many missed meals just to have a waist more lithe, how many hours of being wide awake? He doesn’t care. Been there, done that.

It’s almost spring, which means you’ll travel back to Osaka together. Watch the cherry blossoms, visit the temples. Send Taehyung cute postcards the old-fashioned way even if the stamps are expensive. Kiss and pose for selfies because it’s a better life together. And never touch nicotine again before his insides fade to black. Blot and blur. Much like the road, the street lights. They're on the brink of day, but melting past his eyes like a spiraling void. Baekhyun's so cold, it's not just the lace top. Nothing feels meaningful anymore when he imagines the future, and he's content. There's nothing of importance in this moment except that. The road of life carries on whether he follows it or not. The street lights warp into a pulsating vortex, it's a heartbeat. Everything he likes about you passes before his eye. The way you carry yourself. How you put a little heart at the bottom of the note, and told him he's handsome. The habit you have, getting up at 5:30 am to send him a text if the shift was okay. How you smile and make everything a little better. Everything feels liberated when he thinks about it. It's a feeling taking over each and every limb, the sweetest anesthesia. Maybe you can be his blank slate. Close the vortex once and for all. He doesn't hit the breaks for the turn the alley ahead, he just falls. It doesn't matter. Baekhyun is sure about it, and that's the only bit of peace he can ever have. You would have been happy one day. So, so happy.

© 2017-2018 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved.  Reposts, modifications, and translations are not permitted. 

[i-fan-misha-do-you]

Just A Girl in Arkham (Jerome x reader) Part 3

  Word Count: 2598 Warnings: electroshock therapy, voices, hallucinating, blood and bruises A/N: hey guys! So this is part three, probably like two more parts, at least, maybe more, just depends. Sorry this took so long to get up, it’s a little longer than the others, so I don’t think anyone is gonna complain. Enjoy!  Your body shook as electricity coursed through it. Biting down hard on the piece of leather in your mouth, you tried to stifle a scream.   “Turn the voltage up two percent.” Someone instructed. You shook your head frantically as you heard those awful words.  “No, no!” You tried to speak, but found you couldn’t as the shocks started up again, even more painful this time. You didn’t notice it, but your body had gone from shaking to convulsing. You grit your teeth as the ‘treatment’ came to an end. Some treatment. They actually thought sending electricity through your brain could somehow ‘shock’ you back to sanity.  Someone removed the leather from your mouth, and you attempted to bite who ever’s hand it was. You received a sharp blow to the cheek for this, but you only smirked. You didn’t fight as your body was unstrapped from the table, pulled off, and roughly held upright. Looking down at your arms you could see large blotches of purple and blue forming at your wrists, forearms, and biceps. Small cuts were bleeding openly around the edges of the bruises where you’d pulled against the straps that held you down.  Three large men held you up as two more came at you with a straightjacket. You whimpered slightly as they harshly strapped you into the restrictive material, not minding your injuries. The moment they were done, pills were shoved into your mouth, and a muzzle was strapped around your face, effectively stopping you from spitting out the medicine.  You glared at the guards and doctors in front of you, letting out a growl when one of the nurses came towards you with a syringe. She jumped slightly, but continued trying to administer whatever drug was in the needle.  You didn’t remember when the guards had let you go, but they had. They must have thought you were to incapacitated to fight back.  ‘Stupid.’ You thought to yourself. You let the nurse come closer until she was right next to you. She had barley pressed the needle to your neck when you ducked and connected your head with her stomach. She let out a pained sound before falling back and crumpling to the floor.   ‘Poor thing.’ You thought sarcastically as multiple guards grabbed you and forced you to the ground. You felt the cold metal of the needle on your neck, then the sharp sting that came with being injected with medicine. You winced as you felt the needle slid out of your skin. The next thing you knew, you were being hauled off of the floor. Your vision was fuzzy, and you couldn’t feel your legs. This must have been expected, because a wheelchair was brought into the room a moment later.  After being strapped in, the guards transported you down multiple halls to your solitary cell. Once you arrived at the large metal door, two men unstrapped you as another opened it. You were shoved inside very unceremoniously.  As you fell face first to the ground, you heard the door slam shut behind you; lock clicking into place, and deadbolt sliding across the door. You immediately drug your head against the floor, rubbing and straining until the strap on the muzzle loosened. A few minutes later, and it was off completely.  You spit out the pills with a disgusted look on your face before falling back onto the floor. You rolled over and let out an annoyed sigh. You were utterly bored. And crazy sore. It was always the same. Wake up, be in the cell. Get taken to therapy, come back to the cell. Food in between. Not even decent food. You slowly sat up and looked around your cell. It was one of those cells you’d see in a movie; white padded everything.  ‘Too white,’ you decided.  “Oh, yep. Definitely too white. It would be tons better with color…maybe red?”  Your head swung around, trying to find where the voice had come from. Your eyes widened and a grin formed on your face once you realized what was going on.  “Your back.” You stated rather than asked.  “Yes, we are.” A different voice answered. Though you knew you wouldn’t see anything, you still looked around the room.  “Since when?” You asked as you moved over to the small mat that served as a bed.  “Since you decided to stop taking the little green pills.” Yet another voice answered you.  ‘Well, I won’t be bored.’ You thought.  “Oh, no. You won’t.” Another voice assured. The smile never left your face. This was gonna be great.

--------------------------

 “Jerome, come here, please.” Jerome appeared a moment later, coming through the large double doors on the far side of the room.  “Yes, Mr. Galavan.” He answered as his eyes landed on Theo’s figure. He was sitting on one of the couches that stood in the middle of the area, holding a file. Theo motioned for Jerome to sit down, which he did, jumping onto the couch opposite Theo, sitting Indian style.  “Well, I’ve talked to Tabitha, and she says that Y/n was one of the original candidates for this group. Before she, you know- “  “Killed four guys and got locked up in solitary?” Jerome finished, grinning proudly.  “Four? I thought it was two…” Theo searched his papers before nodding. “Ah, ok. Four.” “So, can we get her out?” The ginger asked eagerly. “Well...” Theo started as Jerome looked at him expectantly. “She’s very dangerous, understand. She didn’t just kill her brother, she killed over half of the people in her apartment building, as well as about forty of her brother’s ex-girlfriends and lovers. In total, it was about ninety-six people.” Jeromes expression changed to one of admiration.  “Is that a yes?” He said, half begging. “I think we can manage that.” Theo said after a long stretch of silence. Jeromes face broke into a large smile.  “Woohoo!” He whooped, jumping up off the couch and spinning in a circle. “I’m getting my girl back!”  “Go get ready, Jerome.” Theo said sternly. “There’s a delicate process for this, it needs to go smoothly.”

  “Perfect!” Jerome saluted him before turning and dashing out of the room.

-------------------

 Jerome hid his face beneath his cap as he passed some guards in the hallway. He quickly made his was down to the lower levels, Barbra right behind him. They made it down to the solitary level without being seen. Finding your room was the next challenge. Jerome walked from door to door, checking the patient numbers. Seven rooms down, he found you. Patient number 6663. Barbra ran down the hall to find you a wheelchair as Jerome entered your cell.  Careful to be as quiet as he could, he unlocked the door to your room.

---------------

 You’d already been to electro for the day, and now you were working on getting out of your straight jacket. Jerome walked over to you and undid the last latch.  “Thanks, J.” You said, sending him a wink.  “Anything for you dollface.” He replied, sitting down next to you.  “Find anything interesting?” You asked, laying back in his lap. He shook his head, pouting.  “Not a thing.” He said, running his fingers through your hair. You hummed in approval.   You sat up straight as you heard the door being unbolted. You looked at Jerome with fear in your eyes.   “You gotta go, J!” You said frantically. He shook his head.   “No, doll. I ain’t leaving ya.” He argued. You pushed him towards the door.   “Go, Jerome. Now!” You wrapped the straight jacket around yourself and turned to face the corner as the door opened. Looking back, you could see Jerome sneak out as a guard stepped in. He shined his flashlight around before leaving, locking the door behind him.

Guards P.O.V.

 “Nothin’, she’s talking to herself again.” He said into his radio. “I think ya need to up her dosage, though.” He said as he walked away.

Your P.O.V.

 About three hours after the guard came to check on you, Jerome came back. But, you were already having a conversation, so you ignored him. Which made him upset, so he went and sat by the door to pout.  “He looks so angry.” You laughed, pointing to Jerome’s hunched over figure.  “You’re right! He does!” Someone responded.  “He looked like a mad tomato.” Another said. Your expression changed from amused to deadly in a matter of seconds.   “Don’t call him a tomato!” You screamed, throwing the straight jacket towards the voice, forgetting you wouldn’t be able to hit them.  In the middle of your outburst the door opened. You didn’t notice, but Jerome did.  “Y/n!” He called out at the same time the guard did. You paused and turned slowly to face the door. Your eyes widened as you saw Jerome, dressed in a guards uniform, standing next to Jerome, who was wearing his asylum jumpsuit.   “No, no, no!” You said at a normal tone before it turned to screaming. You shook your head and backed into a corner. “Go away! Get out of here!” You continued to scream as you covered your ears with your hands, falling to the ground.

Jeromes P.O.V.

The smile fell off my face as Y/n began screaming at me. I watched in confusion as she backed into the corner, crying.  “Oh, baby, what did they do to you?” I whispered, horrified, as I caught a glance of her ‘therapy sheet’. Electroshock.  “Jerome, make him go away!” I heard her scream again. I rushed into the room, only to have her yell again upon seeing me.  “Jerome, that’s not you. I need him gone.” She said frantically. I was about to answer when I realized that she wasn’t talking to me, rather to the space next to me. She paused and listened for a moment before nodding her head. I watched as she cautiously walked up to me and touched my arm. It was a quick touch, almost like a tap, but it made her eyes widen in shock. Turning to the same space next to me, she began screaming again.   “You lied! You lied to me! Make him go away!” She ran behind the door and emerged with a straight jacket, one she’d obviously gotten out of. Before I could react, she threw it right past me, barely missing my face. It hit the wall, hard, and she smirked triumphantly, as if she’d just won a game. Her expression changed once she saw me again, and she quickly looked down.  “J, is that you?” She asked quietly, not looking at me.  “Yeah, baby. It’s me.” She shook her head no as if she didn’t believe me.  “Y/n,” I said, carefully touching her on the arm. She hissed in pain and pulled away. “Y/n, doll, what’s wrong? Show me, please.” I said softly. She reluctantly held out her arm so that I could roll up her sleeve.  I pushed away the material and inhaled sharply. Bruises littered her s/c arm delicately in the shape of thick cuffs, cuts outlining the bruises.   “May I?” I asked, gesturing to her skirt. She nodded once, and I knelt in front of her, pulling up her skirt. I covered my mouth in horror. Her legs were covered in bruises and blood, so much that I could hardly see her skin.  “Come here, baby.” I scooped her up in my arms.” I’m gonna get ya out of here.” She let out a shaky breath and clutched the front of my shirt as I carried her out into the corridor, where Barbra was waiting with a wheelchair and a disguise. I let her down and held her up gently while she got dressed.  “Hey, Y/n.” Barbra said softly, helping her put on the doctor’s uniform. Y/n gave her a slow smile as she finished before her legs suddenly gave out. I caught her easily and placed her in the chair, pushing it quickly to the back entrance. Barbra ran ahead to open the door so that it was open by the time I got Y/n there. We’d only passed two guards on our way out, and they hadn’t asked any questions.  I quickly lifted Y/n from the chair and rushed to the car that was waiting to take us back to the Galavans penthouse.

 Your P.O.V.

 You groaned as you rolled over, only just becoming aware of a massive headache. You sat up slowly and rubbed your head, wincing at the light that got past the curtains on the windows. Wait, windows. You didn’t have windows. Where were you? You opened your eyes and looked around. You didn’t recognize the room you were in.  “Where am I?” You wondered out loud as you sat up.  “Where do you think?” A voice answered. You blinked several times, looking around the room again.  “I don’t know,” you finally said,” but at least it’s not Arkham, right?”  “That’s true. It’s not Arkham. But now we’ve got another problem. Someone’s got us. All of us.” Another voice answered. “All of us?” You questioned.  “Yes, all of us. We go with you. Someone has you, they have us all.” A different voice explained.  “Great.” You muttered, falling back onto the bed.

Jeromes P.O.V.

 I was outside of Y/n’s door about to go check on her when I heard her talking.  “Where am I?” Her voice was muffled by the door, but I could still hear her. She paused for a moment before speaking again.   “I don’t know, but at least it’s not Arkham, right?” She paused for a short period before asking, “All of us?”  I listened in confusion, but the only thing I heard after that was her muttering ‘great’, and a small thump, indicating that she’d fallen back onto the bed.  I chose that moment to knock on the door lightly and walk into the room.   “Good morning, sugar.” I said, not even trying to keep the worry out of my voice. The moment she heard me, Y/n sat up and her eyes went wide.  “Jerome!” She cried out. She was about to get out of the bed, but I stopped her, instead climbing into the bed with and on top of her. I held myself up on my forearms, minding her injuries.   “Hi.” I breathed, my face inches from hers.   “Hi.” She giggled, wrapping her arms around my torso. I rolled to the side, placing my arms tightly but gently around her. I held her for a few moments before I had to ask.  “So, are they…ya know, back?” I asked. I could practically feel her roll her eyes.

Your P.O.V.

 You knew exactly what he was talking about. You’d told him when you’d first met him that you’d had voices talk to you. At least, before they made you take all those pills. Then they’d stopped.   “Yeah, they kept me from being lonely in solitary…” You trailed off when his grip around you tightened slightly, getting more protective.   “Anyways,” you said, changing the subject,” why am I here?”   “Aww, princess. I rescued you, of course.” Jerome said in a matter of fact tone.   “Of course, you did.” You snorted slightly before composing yourself. “No, really.” You looked up into his eyes, e/c meeting stormy blue.  Jerome grinned happily. “Because I didn’t wanna leave ya in Arkham all by yourself. Besides, I’ve got some friends I wanna introduce you to. You’re gonna love ‘em.”   “Only if they’re a bunch of maniacs.” You retorted. This made Jerome’s grin widen.   “You bet they are, babe.” He said, kissing the top of your head.   “A bunch of maniacs.”

[kokopug]

A Stay at Saint Luke's Women's Shelter on NORTH Pacific.

I stayed at ST. Luke’s women’s shelter after moving from Lafayette Street under the I95 BRIDGED off East Main. My Pug had been taken away after it was attacked by a black youth that lived across the hall. He was being ridden by another man, Milato that was verbally threatening him. Saying, is that f'n pug still alive man? I saw this happen twice. One day I was headed outside with my Pug, the guys across the hall had been up all night cracking. I was near the bottom step, and the pit bull ran in off leashes towards the Pug. The pit and the Pug wouldn’t fight. They had gotten to know each other. But the black kid grabbed the Pug, and its leash, threw it down the stairs and proceeded to kick it to almost dead. I somehow got the leash, I had fallen and was bleeding, I grabbed the leash and we ran into our apartment. I called 911 and I went to the hospital then took the dog to the vet. Not much they could do. They did give it a rabies shot. But the Pug wasn’t violent, never was. Would just bark at the pit because he new I was scared he’d be hurt. The Pugs kidney was kicked in. I held him all night and for the next night. But he couldn’t hold water. It would go in, it would come out. He ate well, but I couldn’t get him to hold water. Next papers were given to me at the door. I waited a few months, but the kidney never healed. Think his rib was broken too. Then one day after the kids across the hall had had the older woman I was staying with up all night, they were coming in at 3 AM, right into our Apt. bumming money for drugs. I saw it twice. She had been up late, was cranky and hit me with a chair because I was mopping the floor. Then a nurse showed up and over medicated her. Cindy, the other woman in the Apt. got taken away by paramedics. Not sure if she lived. I was taken to the Women’s shelter after Barbra kept screaming that her family was the biggest Mob in CT. I just ignored her, but her counselor from Laurel House was there visiting her, So I was taken to the Shelter for my safety. Which was ok for a while. But the wall land line was outside my room. Then one day a black girl was arguing on the phone with someone and when she hung up, she ran into my room screaming she was going to fight me. I was still recovering from shock. I just yelled loudly, get the hell out of my room. And she left. Thing is, she looks a lot like the male taxi driver that recently showed up to take me to the bank. Anyway, after I yelled for her to get the hell out of my room, I was told The Shelter couldn’t help me unless I was on medication. See, I never yell. I’m pretty quiet. But that day I yelled at her loudly. So I was sent for a 2 week evaluation. Did well, was given a drug for nerves and one for depression. Went back to the shelter. Had a black room mate there, we got along well. She was so tall, very intimidating, but we got along well. Then I pretty much stayed to myself again, Got moved over to Giliad, but it was not a good situation. Got sprayed with lye and ended up with a collapsed lung. And nervous disorder. They called 911 for me. The next day another white woman staying there who was also being sprayed with lye, ended up in the emergency room the day after I did. Not sure where they sent her. Saw her in town months later incoherent. Anyway, I was moved again to Seaton. Rented a room and a corner of the living room. Recovering from shock still while there. Then filled in a few applications and ended up moving again. Our Building manager is a black lady. Things were great for 2 and a half years. But things changed. I’ll be here until I move again. I’m recovered from shock now, basically got thrown into the front of mayhem. Never got my dog back. Couldn’t because I was in the Women’s shelter which I believe at one time was a convent. I was going to the grave yard during the day to pay my respect to the dead. I would talk silently to them like people do sometimes. No one knew I went there. It was quiet.My parents were cremated. Colette in theres

[rustybutterknife]

Trans masc beetlejuice angst?

Not gonna lie, this made me dysphoric to write.

Tw: shark week, blood mentions, dysphoria, whatever else you guys ask to tag

So as a kid, he didn’t feel right. He hated his name, his body, he felt more comfortable doing things like a boy would.

It took him awhile to figure out why his chest and hips and soft face felt so god damn wrong.

He came out to Juno when he was about 14 in human years. Things were thrown, she screamed at him and called him slurs. It wasn’t very nice.

Even after going on T, changing his legal name (in the netherworld), and having top surgery, she still isn’t having it.

The scene after Beetlejuice gets vibe checked is the first time that Juno calls him Lawrence because it would take explaining and she didn’t wanna do that, also it would be awkward because he has a whole ass beard.

A few months later, after getting together with the adults in the household, they’re all sleeping together soundly in the giant bed Adam had built for them when he wakes up to an uncomfortably wet feeling he hadn’t felt in years.

He reaches down, and brings back his hand. Blood.

Immediately, he crawls out of bed and quickly gathers some black pajama pants and boxers that Delia was kind enough to buy him, so he would have clothing other than his suit to wear.

Barbra, who was asleep right next to him and a pretty light sleeper, woke up as he crawled out of bed.

She watches him in silence, wondering why he was awake at this time of night.

In the light of the hallway night light, she saw what looked like a red stain covering the front and back of Beetlejuice’s pajama pants. Almost like…

She lifted up the sheets, and was met with a blotch of blood where Beetlejuice laid previously.

Reluctantly, she woke up the others.

“Uh… guys?” “What is it?” Charles rolled over, immediately noticing the blood and sitting up straight with a yelp. Barbra made a shushing motion, a small blush spreading across her face.

Delia woke up, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?” She asked, her voice still heavy with sleep. “Not important. There’s blood on the sheets.” “Wait, how? Because it’s…” Delia checked quickly. “Okay, it’s not me. And you’re dead. So who…?” “Uh… about that…” “so ghosts can bleed? Jesus fucking Christ…”

Adam awoke, and looked at the blood before looking between Barbra and Delia. “Who…?” Before he could finish his sentence, Delia pointed at Barbra.

Barbra simply shrugged it off, and helped them change the sheets quickly.

With that, she excused herself as they got back into bed and knocked on the bathroom door.

“Gummy bear…?” “What?” It’s evident in his voice that he’s been crying.

“Uh… I saw what happened, it’s alright. We changed the sheets.” “What happened?” “I saw you get up, it’s alright.” With that, he starts crying again.

“Oh shit… uh… is it alright if I come in?”

It takes a minute, but the door eventually unlocks and opens.

His face is streaked with tears, his eyes red from crying and his hair a mix of deep purple and black. He has an arm wrapped around his abdomen, the other on the doorknob.

Without saying anything, he lets Barbra in and closes the door behind her.

They both sit on the bathroom floor, avoiding eye contact.

“So… is this a normal occurrence? I thought it was possible on testosterone?” “It usually isn’t, but there are the occasional screw ups in hormones. So then…” he vaguely gestures to himself and the pile of bloodied clothing in the corner. “This.”

Barbra nods, looking down. “Do you want me to put that to wash for you?” He nods, and she grabs his garments. “Is there anything I can get for you while I’m downstairs? Some snacks or juice? That used to help me when I-“ “just some ibuprofen would be nice.” “Alright dear…” with that, she kisses him on the forehead and walks down to the basement, where the washer and dryer are kept.

He quickly shuts the door and tries to keep an impending panic attack at bay. He shakily gets up and looks at himself in the mirror. He sighs, quietly mumbling “you’re still a man… right?” To himself before going down to the living room to watch TV. Anything to distract him from this miserable hell with yet to come.

Barbra comes back upstairs, holding a blanket she put in the dryer for Beetlejuice when she sees on the sofa, curled up and watching some TV show about three people cracking jokes at the expense of people in clips of them getting hurt or being just plain stupid.

She walks over to him as he pauses the show to look up at her.

“I brought this for you, I thought you would enjoy it.” she says, handing thblanket over to him. “Thank you…” he mumbled before wrapping himself in it.

She gave him a warm smile before grabbing some water and ibuprofen for him from the kitchen and sitting next to him.

He took the pain killers, making a small face of disgust after he swallows them.

“Don’t like pills, huh?” he nods, leaning into her, his hair filled with traces of purple.

“...do you wanna talk about it?” “About pills?” “No, about… uh… I don’t know what you call it-“ “Hell.” “Oh…”

with that, a few strands of red show up, along with additional strands of purple.

“Well, if you need anything, just tell us alright?” “...do the others know?” “No, I’m sure they’re just assuming it was me.” “How would that- alright.” “That’s what I thought, but Delia just sorta blamed it on me and I went with it.” “Thank you…”

They sit in silence for a bit before Beetlejuice wraps his arm around Barbra, snuggling into her. Barbra smiles, playing with his hair until they both fall asleep.

When they wake up, there’s a shopping bag from the local CVS, filled with snacks, a box of chamomile tea, a container of Advil, and a handwritten note.

“Hey, I saw the clothes in the washing machine, so I thought you might enjoy this. They’re in the dryer, take care. -Adam.”