You’re So Smart, A Stand Up Bro

Title: Barbie’s Hair Salon Fandom: Beetlejuice The Musical Pairings: Beetlejuice/Reader (Gender Neutral) Ratings: General

“And he was like ‘No way you can shove this baby Sandworm up your nose’, so I was like ‘Uh yeah, I totally can!’ And then I-”

“Beetlejuice,” you whined softly as his fingers ran along your scalp to get the hair dye to stick to your roots.

The demon had practically begged you to dye your hair something bold after you had mentioned liking his mood ring colours and how they suited him. While he couldn’t give you the same effect, he was desperate to make you look just as crazy as him. Which wasn’t a big vote of confidence considering how his own colour clung to his dirty, shaggy mound of fluff. It was cute in a trash sort of way but on you? Well, you had some doubts.

“You don’t have to help, you know. I told you I was just gonna go to the salon to get this done-”

He gasped, feigning shock with one hand over where his heart should be.

“A salon? I didn’t know that I was talking to high society!” The demon decided to mock you in that annoying voice he loved to do when belittling your ‘breather’ opinions. “Oh, I’m sorry Your Highness, I didn’t know you wanted to blow three hundred smackaroos when your b-f-f-f could do this for free.”

[Continue Reading or Read on AO3!]

Thank you so much for your support! 💚💜 As requested... 💋💜

MY PROTECTION (Beej x Reader) 

Truthfully, it had been your idea.  After spending a lovely evening at your best friend’s house, she offers to drive you home, but you decline. It’s not that late, and you don’t want to trouble her. Besides, you only live a few blocks away and a little post dinner walk will be good for you, you argue. She’s reluctant, but you insist and finally she lets you go. You put on your coat and head out, making your way down the street. You check the time: half past midnight. You should be home in no more than twenty five minutes… fifteen, maybe, if you take the shortcut through the park. You stop in your tracks and turn towards the park’s entrance: should you? Or shouldn’t you? 

It’s certainly not a menacing place, but given the time it’s also deserted. You think quickly: if you have to walk all the way around, it’s going to take much longer… as if on cue, you feel a small cramp in your foot. The heels you’ve been wearing all day are starting to take their toll… Finally, you sigh and make up your mind. You’ll just walk quickly and stay on the main road, it’s nicely lit and there’s no one around. You’ll be fine. 

You’ve been walking for five minutes, focusing on your own breathing and listening to the sound of your heels on the pavement, when you hear laughter nearby. You look up: three guys are sitting on a bench, their hands occupied by beers and cigarettes - joints, from the smell of it. You hesitate. There’s no way around them, unless you take a completely dark path to your right. If you want to cross through, you’ll have to pass in front of them. You huff. What now? You’d almost made it! But what other choice do you have? Of course, you could always ask for company… for his company. 

You roll your eyes. What the hell are you talking about? What are you, a baby? Besides, you know how he is: hyper protective, anxious, and slightly paranoid. The last thing you needed to add to your night right now was a long, endless rant of his, telling you how irresponsible you’d been and how he knew it, he should’ve followed you to your friend’s house after all… You chuckle to yourself, you can almost hear his voice. You also feel an unexpected pang of regret for the fight you’d had with him the day before… but after all, could he blame you if you weren’t exactly ready to explain to your friend what a poltergeist was doing in your life? You’d ended up having a big fight and you hadn’t talked to each other since then…And now, you really wish you hadn’t.  You take a deep breath: all the more reason to hurry up and get back home to him, then.

You start walking again, heading decisively along your path and blatantly ignoring the gang. As you walk by them, however, you immediately hear one of them make a long, howling whistle your way. You tense up slightly, but try to ignore it. “Don’t stop walking,” you think to yourself.

“Hey, babygirl, your ass looks real nice in that dress!” You hear another one call after you. “Just keep walking…” you keep repeating mentally. “Yo baby, come over here! We just wanna see your pretty face up close…” You’ve walked past them by now, and have obviously no intention of stopping. However, neither do they. “Hey, you, did you hear what my friend said?” You feel a cold shiver run down your spine when you hear movement behind you and realize they’ve gotten on their feet. “Come on, what’s wrong with you? Just stop for a moment!” You try to speed up discreetly, so as not to make them see you’re scared. “Hey…. hey! I said stop! What the fuck is your problem?” You hear them pick up the pace. At this point, your heartbeat is fluttering and you feel dread spreading through your veins. You’re walking as fast as you can without running, but you hear them coming up behind you quickly. You gasp when suddenly you feel a hand grab your arm and yank you backward. You turn: one of the guys has his grip on you, and he sneers as soon as you look at him. “Hey, bitch, are you deaf or something?” He asks, his breath stinking of alcohol. He pulls you towards him, and you try to stand your ground. “My friend asked you to stop and come over to talk to us, didn’t you fucking hear him?” Another guy steps up besides you, laughing as he flicks his cigarette away, “Looks like this bitch doesn’t like talking much!” Your body jolts when you feel another pair of hands grab your waist from behind: the third guy is standing right behind you. “With a body like this? Who needs her to talk? Am I right?” He pulls at your dress, and you twist around, trying to smack his hands away. 

They laugh. “Looks like the bitch wants to bite, though!” The man holding your arm grabs your wrist and roughly pulls you towards him, distracting you from the guy behind you. “Well, let’s take a closer look then…” The guy behind you suddenly pushes up against your back, wrapping his arms around you and trying to rip your coat off. “Get off me…Get OFF of me!” You growl, trying desperately to free yourself from him. You can’t stop him, of course. He yanks the buttons of your coat open and starts roaming his hands across your body as his friend keeps holding both your wrists in his grasp. You feel the other guy walk up besides you and start touching your thighs, gripping your ass and trying to force his hands between your legs. You’re kicking and screaming, but it’s no use against three grown men’s force. “Hey…hey! Stop moving, bitch!” You keep twisting and turning furiously, until you see the guy in front of you reach in his pocket and whip out a pocket knife, the moonlight reflecting off its blade. He cups your mouth with his free hand, glaring at you threateningly. “Keep moving, and I carve your fucking face, get it?”  You stop dead in your tracks. The panic of what they’re about to do is settling in. You’re going to be raped, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You stand, frozen, at their mercy. The two other guys start groping you again, trying to pull your skirt up and rip your blouse open. Your eyes are fixed on the knife as you desperately try to find a way out. Realizing there’s nothing else you can do, you make a decision: you open your mouth and bite down as hard as you can on the asshole’s hand. He yells, letting you go. It’s only for a moment, but it’s enough. 

“BeetlejuicebeetlejuiceBEETLEJUICE!” A number of things seem to happen all at once. You feel a sharp pain in your forearm where the man’s blade cuts you. You hear the other two men laugh at your absurd calling out. And then… It’s not that he appears, rather that in the blink of an eye you’re no longer standing where you were standing. Instead, you’re sitting on an empty bench safely hidden behind a group of bushes. 

It happens so fast, you barely have time to realize and you don’t understand what’s going on…until your eyes focus again and you look up to see Beetlejuice holding both your shoulders and leaning down towards you, his face a mask of worry. 

“B-beej…” you mumble, realizing that you’re shaking so hard that you can’t even speak. He’s asking you something, but you can’t quite make out what it is. Your heartbeat is so fast and your breathing is so shallow that you can barely hear anything else. You try to focus on him: his trademark worn out striped suit, his unkempt green hair falling in front of his white face, the purple around his eyes making his expression even more wild… Finally, you manage to calm down just enough to hear what he’s saying. 

“…hurt you? Did they hurt you? Answer me!” He asks, shaking you slightly, “Babes, come on!” “I-I don’t…” “Did. They. Hurt. You.” His eyes are glowing with so much rage, you’re almost scared to answer. “Beej, I was…” “Babes. I need to know if you’re okay. Right now.” You’ve never seen him so serious. Slowly, you nod your head. “Good, because I was ready to-” he stops when his gaze falls on your forearm. You look down: a fine line of blood is trickling down to your hand, a few drops already falling to the ground. You’d been so dazed by Beetlejuice’s arrival that you’d almost forgotten about it. “Oh...” You say softly, “It’s nothing, he -” the words die in your mouth when you look back up and see his expression. 

His face, if possible, has turned even more white. He begins breathing more heavily, literally shaking with rage. His nostrils are flared, his lips curl back as he lets out an animalistic, guttural growl that rumbles through his chest. Despite knowing perfectly well that his anger is not directed at you, it sends a shiver running from your neck to your toes. You almost recoil. Then, slowly, he turns his head towards you and you gasp: his green hair is rapidly turning blood red, and his expression is so enraged you’re certain he could murder with a single stare. Realizing what he’s about to do, you shake your head. “N-no, Beej, I’m okay, it’s -” But you barely have time to see his eyes flashing as red as his hair, before he’s gone. You don’t see him, and you definitely can’t see your attackers from where you’re hiding… but you can certainly hear their screams.

And then, out of nowhere, you hear a single crack of thunder. And you are sure as hell that there is no storm coming your way. Then… you only hear silence. 

He comes back a few moments later, but it feels like an eternity. Between trying to calm yourself, trying to make sense of what the fuck is going on, and trying to understand where you are, you can’t seem to focus on anything. When you hear a faint pop, you look up and see him appear a few feet away from you. You can hardly speak, because your mind is still reeling not only with thoughts of what just happened to you, but what he just did. He turns around slowly and walks over to you. You look him up and down: he looks exactly the same…except for the little dots of red that are tainting his suit. His hair, you notice, it’s almost back to being green. Except for a few spare red locks.  

He’s still breathing heavily, but now you can tell it’s because he’s trying to calm himself. He stops in front of you, hanging his head and closing his eyes for a second. You stand still, unsure of what to do. Then, he opens his eyes again and kneels slightly, wordlessly picking you up bridal stile. He looks at you, examining your face, his expression intense. You return his gaze, examining his face searching for a trace of an answer of what just happened. But then you realize you’re not sure you want to know. He lifts his hand and slowly drags a finger across your forearm, immediately healing your wound. You look at him thankfully, then gently wrap your arms around his neck, nodding to let him know you’re okay. 

He nods back, and in a flash you’re home. You’re still not quite sure how he manages to extend his powers to you, but now is definitely not the time to ask. He sets you down gently. You straighten yourself up, standing right in front of him. There’s a tense silence between you. You gather the courage to speak. 

“Thank you…” You feel the wind being knocked out of you as he suddenly reaches out and grabs you, crushing you against him in a fierce hug. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nuzzling his face against your skin. “Don’t ever do that again.” He whispers in your ear. You nod. “Tell me they didn’t…” You shake your head. He lets out a slow, deep sigh of relief. At this point, you reach up and wrap your arms around him, finally relaxing in his touch as he holds you close, practically cuddling you in his arms. “Thank you…” you manage to choke out again, starting to feel emotional as the reality of the moment starts to settle in. “Are you still feeling scared?” He mumbles in your ear, still not letting you go. You hesitate for a second, then nod again. He makes a small ‘tsk’ sound, and you feel his hands gently knead your skin, softly massaging you as he pulls you even closer in an attempt to comfort you. The gesture actually makes you tear up, and he senses your breath become uneven. “It’s okay, baby…” he whispers, “It’s all over. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s all right.” He starts kissing your neck lightly, trying to sooth you. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes… “…did you kill them?” 

You sense him tense up and he stops kissing you. For a moment, he stays still. Then he pulls away from you, slowly. You hold his gaze, wondering if you should’ve kept your mouth shut. He looks at you intently for a moment. Then - to your surprise, you have to admit - he shakes his head. “Then what did…” “They’ve been dealt with, and that’s all that matters.” You close your mouth, understanding from his tone of voice that it’s best to not ask anymore. But you feel an icy chill in your stomach when you realize the three men have probably dealt with a fate worse than death. You shiver involuntarily, and he raises an eyebrow. Then he closes his eyes and sighs. “I better go, then…” “Wait… What? No!” “The last thing I need is to be here knowing you’re scared of me, now.” He turns to walk away but you grab his arm and he turns back to look at you. “I’m not scared of you.” You say determinedly. He doesn’t seem convinced, but you repeat, “I am not afraid of you.” He turns away once again but you tug at his sleeve. “…And I need you to stay here with me now.” 

He gives you a questioning look, but you stand your ground and he nods once to tell you he understood. Instead of letting go of his arm, you tug on his sleeve again and pull him towards you. He obliges, walking back into your arms as you embrace him again. Feeling wrapped in the warmth of his embrace makes you feel safe and secure. And slowly you sense your heartbeat going back to normal. 

“…Can we go to bed now?” He pulls back slightly, frowning at you as he realizes what you’re implying, “Babes, I’m not sure it’s the best thing to do…” “Please,” you cut him off, “I…I need to get them out of my mind. I just…I need to be feel you’re with me right now, okay?” “I am with you, baby…” “Then I need to feel you closer still,” you retort, before adding, “I mean… I want a shower, first.” He actually chuckles at that simple request. “Are you asking me to…?” “No,” you answer quickly, blushing slightly, “I can do that by myself. Just… wait for me in my bed? Please?” You insist, squeezing his waist slightly. He nods: of course he won’t leave you, especially now. You smile weakly at him. Then reach up and finally kiss him. He closes his eyes, kissing you back as softly as possible. You try to focus only on the familiar feeling of his mouth moving against yours, trying to block out everything else.  He holds his arms protectively around your waist, pulling you against him. You gently cup his face with your hands and pull back slightly. “Just give me five minutes,” you whisper, and he lets you go. You pick up your things and head to the bathroom, giving yourself a long, steaming hot shower to wipe away as much filth as possible. Then you quickly dry yourself up and head to your room, anticipating what’s to come: true to his word, he’s laying on your bed waiting for you. 

You make love, slowly and gently. He’s reluctant, at first, because he’s still not sure it’s the right thing to do, given what happened tonight. But you insist. You need to feel him, all of him… you need to feel his skin against your skin…you need to feel his hands touch you where those assholes tried to touch you, to wipe away their fingerprints forever… you need to feel yourself covered and protected by his body… you need to feel his mouth cover every inch of your skin, to make you forget that anything else other than his lips exists in this world… And you say it all to him. He understands. He always does.

And so he worships your body, gently holding and caressing you as he settles on top of you…and you allow yourself to finally relax, feeling protected by the way his weight pins you to the mattress… he kisses you, and touches you everywhere, and then he pushes into you and you feel him filling you so delightfully that you sense nothing else, but heaven… And slowly but surely, with every kiss, and every sway of his hips, and every soft moan that escapes your lips, and every caress that wipes away your fear and anxiety, he fixes everything… In a way only he can… And you are lost in a cloud of bliss until you fall peacefully asleep, still wrapped in his arms.

Knowing he’ll take care of you…

Okay, okay... I surrender! Apparently, this is what you guys have been waiting for.... So here it is! Thought I’d go ahead and mix two requests into one, hopefully you guys won’t mind. All right then.

Time to turn the heat up! 🔥🔥🔥

Beetlejuice being possessive with his s/o

(Beej x Reader)

“Are you drunk?” 

You’ve barely set foot inside your house and closed the door behind you when you hear his voice. You jump, closing your eyes and clutching your keys to your chest. You knew he’d be waiting, of course. But seeing his silhouette appear in the semi dark hallway still catches your off guard. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, and turn on the lights. There he is, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed on his chest. “Jesus,” you mutter under your breath.

“Nope, wrong guy,” he immediately snaps back.

You roll your eyes at him, “Seriously? Give me a break, Beej. It’s too late for this kind of crap…” You turn to set down your keys and purse on the coffee table by the door. 

“So I’ve noticed,” his words are dripping with poisonous sarcasm, and you turn back to look at him with a frown. “Ex-cuse me?” 

Your words come out slightly slurred because you have, in fact, been drinking. But of course, you still try to pretend as if you’re perfectly fine. Your head may be spinning a bit, but you’re positive it’ll stop soon. Soon enough at least. Right? 

However, you do an involuntary double take when you manage to finally get a good look at him. Although he’s wearing his usual striped suit, his trademark jacket is missing and he’s rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. This ruffled up, disheveled look makes him look…different. For lack of a better word, you’d almost say it makes him look… well, hot. But that’s not the only thing you notice. His hair, usually a bright emerald green, has turned a shiny, angry shade of red. You know his hair color changes based on his mood…but you’ve never seen it turn red before. For a brief moment, you wonder if you should be worried. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, after all. 

He catches you staring at his locks and snickers, “I could smell the alcohol from the moment you stepped on the driveway.” 

His snide remark wipes away your worry: of course you shouldn’t be scared. He’s just being an overly dramatic asshole, as usual. You make a silent ‘tsk’ sound as you brush past him, heading for the kitchen. If he thinks you’re willing to put up with his bullshit - especially with this much alcohol in your body - he’s got another thing coming. Better to focus on more important stuff. First things first: you need to drink a shitload of water. You head for the fridge, humming as you take out a water bottle and then turn to fetch yourself a cup. You can feel him standing behind you. Clearly, he didn’t wait too long to follow you. 

“So…Where’ve you been?” 

You barely glance up at him, raising an eyebrow, “…Out to dinner, clearly?” He snorts, “Dressed up like that? Where was the dinner, in a strip club?” 

“Ew,” you set the cup down and give him a disgusted look, “What the fuck does that even mean? What is up with you tonight?”

“Me? Oh, nothing babes,” he answers, mockingly raising his hands defensively, “Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Everything’s fine…just peachy, actually.” 

You observe him intently as you drain your second cup of water. His eyes are brooding and dark as he stares right back at you, stepping closer and inspecting you from head to tow. “I’ve got absolutely nothing to say,” he continues, shrugging, “You, on the other hand…”

“What?” 

“Well, don’t ask me! You’re the one who’s out and about, wandering in the middle of the night, having the fucking time of her life getting wasted and prancing around like a hooker…”

“Hey, cut it out!” You protest, reaching out to smack him, “What the fuck is your problem with my dress?”

He laughs bitterly. “You call that skimpy excuse of a skirt a dress? Seriously?” 

You stare at him. Your outfit is a simple, elegant red dress. It’s cut just above your knee - granted, a little shorter than you’d normally wear, maybe - and it wraps smugly around your waist before flaring out in a simple gown. It’s honestly nothing scandalous. Maybe just a little sexier than usual, paired with the high heeled shoes you’re wearing. Maybe. 

“Oh my God, Beej, will you get over yourself?” You sigh in exasperation, “Just because you see me wearing leggings and t-shirts all the time around the house doesn’t mean I can’t dress up every once in a while, you know?” “Sure, sure…” he murmurs, “I mean…after all, that’s one easy way to impress a son of a bitch, right?” 

“Excuse me?” You have to laugh. He’s being so blindly jealous right now, it’s almost embarrassing. Maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had, but you’re suddenly feeling quite keen to have a little fun with him. “Since when do you care who I hang out with?”

“What gave you the impression that I care?” He retorts promptly, mimicking your voice….and proving your point. Yeah, still. Tough luck getting him to admit it. 

Your phone rings, and you reach for it. It’s a message. You read it and smile to yourself. The poor sap. Hasn’t even left you for ten minutes and he’s already blowing up your phone with goodnight texts. You shake your head and sigh. If only he knew…

“Hey, I’m still talking to you!”

Your attention snaps back to the present. For a moment, you’d lost track of the conversation. 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. You haven’t shut up for a minute since I came back.”

“Then stop ignoring me,” he warns, stepping right in front of you and staring you down.

“Or what?” You challenge him, refusing to look away. 

His eyes narrow and his stance turns rigid. He takes a long, deep breath, piercing you with his cold, hard stare. You feel a chill run up your spine but stubbornly ignore it. The alcohol is making you feel braver than you are, apparently. 

“Don’t…push….me.” he growls, actually baring his teeth for a second. You notice his hair glaze over with different shades of red, as if it were scalding hot. For a moment you pause, wondering what the best next step could be. You may be fueled by liquid courage, but you’re not an idiot. You know better than to upset him. And truthfully, you’ve never seen him so worked up before. Better to cut it out and move on to something else. Or at least, you can try. You quickly decide that getting a little bit away from him may be the smart thing to do.

“Well you are being unnecessarily paranoid and rude to me right now, and I need to go get some sleep. So if you don’t mind…” you remark matter-of-factly, turning on your heels and heading towards your bedroom. 

He stays still, staring after you. But of course, you know he’s not about to let this matter drop. At all. A part of you is feeling confident and tries to convince you that you’re doing the right thing, but another part starts questioning if it was a good idea to go through with all this crap. You reach the bedroom and head for the bathroom to change in your pjs, thinking back to how you got to this point. 

They say that all is fair  in love and war. You’d never really taken that into consideration. That is, until Beej came along. Or better, since he came along and then obviously started harboring feelings towards you, and then did everything in his power to deny it, especially to himself. But you knew him… Oh, you knew him so well. Every sarcastic remark, every joke, everything he did to try and annoy or upset you was merely a demonstration of how much he really was falling for you. Truthfully, you’d started to feel the same towards him too, after noticing this. But stubbornly, you refused to make the first move. He was the one who was denying his feelings, therefore he was also the one who had to get a fucking grip and deal with the situation. You wanted to tell him how you felt, but you had to make sure he wanted you enough to get over his dumb pride and own up to what he was feeling. So of course, you’d decided to provoke him and had begun to go out with Mark. Mark, who was a pretty decent guy: he was a co-worker, he was cute, he’d been asking you out for a while, he was polite and charming…and of course, he was a complete bore. Especially when compared to Beej. But you’d been resilient in your mission: if shaking up Beetlejuice meant putting him in front of the harsh truth - which was, that if he didn’t get a move on, you certainly wouldn’t wait for him for ever - meant forcing yourself to go out on a few dates with Mark, you could handle it. After all, Mark wasn’t a bad guy: he always brought you flowers, came to pick you up and let you decide where to go and what to do. If he wasn’t so dreadfully vanilla, you may have actually found him interesting. But alas, you did not. It was all a charade, but you justified if by telling yourself that this was the only way to see if you could finally push Beej to do something. Anything. If he wanted you, he had to step his game up and do something about it. It was weird enough as it is: a human and a ghost hardly made for the perfect couple. But you’d consciously thrown the last piece of ‘normality’ out the window the moment Beej had entered your life, so what was the point in dwelling on how ‘normal’ this situation could be? To hell with normal. You were seeking other things. Excitement. Thrills. Passion. Happiness. Nobody said the only way to find these things was to deal with them ‘normally.’ 

You wash your face and force yourself out of your thoughts once again. You slip on your nightgown and wrap your silk robe around yourself. You look in the mirror and wonder if you’d overdone it. Beej was an idiot for disregarding his feelings, but that didn’t mean you had to be such a bitch to him. Besides, what if your dumb plan backfired and you ended up losing him for good? He may be acting stupid, but you certainly weren’t acting any better. You sigh and close your eyes, hiding your face behind your hands. Your temples are pulsing and you were feeling dizzy. The alcohol’s probably starting to really take its toll on you. The best thing to do is just to get into bed and fall asleep, but you know you have to face him before you could do that. And sure enough, when you open the bathroom door you find him sitting on your bed, shoulders slouched forward and arms resting on his thighs. His head is hanging low, as if he’s lost in thought. Strangely, you noticed that the red is almost all gone from his hair now, and his locks have turned back to his normal emerald green. He must’ve calmed himself, you think. When he hears the bathroom door open he looks up. For a few seconds you both stare at each other in silence. Then, he sighs deeply, shaking his head. 

“You’re a drunk mess, babes,” he says defeatedly, “You should just go to sleep and get this over with… I’ll leave you to rest, I’m clearly not needed here.” He starts getting up but you stop him in his tracks. 

“Wait!” 

Puzzled, he cocks his head to the side, “What now?” 

“Wait!” you repeat, stepping forward with your hand outstretched and stumbling towards him. God, you’re completely drunk. You keep repeating this fact over and over to yourself, but damn, it’s true. He raises an eyebrow, watching you intently as you fumble your way to the bed and sit down besides him. You take a few moments to recompose yourself, trying to straighten yourself up and pretend as though your head isn’t exploding and your vision isn’t going blurry. 

“What, did you change your mind and need me to tuck you into bed?” He asks sarcastically, seeing right through your act. 

“N-o,” you reply, shooting him an upset glare, “I just…wanted to talk.”

“Uh, that’s what I’ve been trying to do since you got your drunk ass home,” he points out, turning his body towards you, “You didn’t really look like you were interested….”

“Noooo,” you slur, swapping at his hand and shaking your head, “That’s because you were being so…so…so angry and moody and annoying!” 

“Oh, well, that’s a good way to start a conversation…” 

“Come ooon, Beej! You know what I mean…”

“Yeah, and in the morning I doubt you’ll know what anything you say now means, so…”

“Hey, knock it off! I’m not that drunk, you know,” you say defensively, frowning at him. He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head, but at least it looks like he’s willing to stay…for now.

“I know you don’t like the idea of me going out with Mark,” you start, and you immediately shush him when you see him open his mouth to reply, “But it’s not really like that, you know? I mean… he’s a nice guy, he really is. And all he wants to do is take me out to these fancy restaurants and spend some time together…at least that’s what he says, I’m not entirely sure it’s all that,” you’re rambling freely right now, but you can’t help yourself, the words just keep rolling out of your mouth. Beetlejuice observes you quietly, his eyes scrutinizing your face and the way you move your hands while you continue, “I know you think he’s a loser and you’re probably right, but you know, there’s nothing wrong with just hanging out with people a little bit, you know, just to try it, but like I’m not even sure….I mean,” you take a deep breath and, before you can help yourself, you tilt your head and lean it on Beej’s shoulder. You feel him tense up for a moment. You realize you’re basically leaning your entire side against him. But at this point, you’re too drunk to do anything about it. Or to care, really. Throw caution to the wind, you think. Who gives a flying fuck? You shake your head and persist, “I mean…he’s not like you,” you slur, trying to steady your head from bobbing forward, “Definitely not like you, I mean,” you turn your head, “I bet if it were you, you know, doing all this shit and everything…I bet that you would take very, very good care of me, hm?” You look up and see him gazing right back at you, a strange look in his eyes. Your breath becomes unsteady. His expression is filled with meaning. You suddenly feel very, very warm. You feel your cheeks begin to flush, the heat radiating through your body. You are hyperaware of how close your faces are. But instead of feeling intimidated, you gather up the courage to continue, “You would…Wouldn’t you?”

For a moment, he stands perfectly still. Then, as if in slow motion, you see him leaning towards you. You instinctively start to close your eyes, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not quite, at least. Instead, your feel his breath on your face - isn’t it weird how his breath can be so warm, when he isn’t even fully alive? - as he tentatively hovers above your lips for a moment. His green eyes examine your face. He gently nudges your nose with his, and you raise your head slightly. You feel his lips graze your cheeks and smile slightly. He plants a small, tentative kiss on your jaw…then another on the corner of your mouth…you part your lips expectantly. This sudden physical contact is making your head spin even more, and is sending the most delightful shivers running down your neck and arms. His mouth hovers above yours, and as you barely feel his lips graze yours you close your eyes in anticipation, when…

“Forget it,” he murmurs, pulling back. With a sigh, he clears his throat and stands up. “Sorry about that, babes…I should be going, you need some sleep.” 

You stare at him, mouth gaping open. Was he being serious right now? 

“What the fuck do you mean?” You ask, unable to keep your voice from quivering slightly. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe he’s being such a coward…and now? Like this? 

“Listen, babes, I get it,” he raises his hands defensively, “I’m an idiot, okay? Let’s pretend this whole conversation never happened, you’re better off just worrying about that Mark fellow…”

“What are you talking about?!” You can hear your voice rising as you get up, fists on your side. Now he’s really getting on your nerves. “What does Mark have to do with this now?!?!”

“Look, babes, I know the truth, okay?” He shakes his head, “I know that he’s….” He frowns, looking away as he struggles to find the words. You notice two streaks of dark blue hair peek out beneath his green locks. “He’s tall, dark, handsome…shit, he looks like he belongs in a fucking Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue! And… well, fucking hell, look at me!” He lifts his shoulders and drops his arms in defeat by his side, before adding in a dark murmur, “Besides…that bastard’s….alive.” 

Your mouth is hanging open. You can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. Especially after the moment you just shared. Especially after what you had just told him! How stupid can this demon be?! And finally, you decide: enough it enough. You stride up to him with confidence, and he looks at you with a puzzled expression. “And that bastard’s not you, you dumb, moronic demon!” 

“Wha-?”

You cut him off by grabbing his tie and pulling him to you, crashing your mouth to his. He’s taken aback, but only for a second, before he grabs your waist and starts kissing you back ardently. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling you towards him. He responds by tugging at your sides, pulling you with equal fervor against his body. You deepen the kiss, and as you stumble back your legs hit the bed, sending you both toppling backwards on the soft mattress. He doesn’t stop kissing you. On the contrary, as soon as your back hits the bed he pins you down. You feel him drag one hand along your side and tucking the other one beneath your buttocks, hoisting you forward and grinding himself against you. You gasp, instinctively spreading your legs and letting him settle between them. He breaks the kiss, but only for a second, before attacking your neck with little bites and nibbles. You arc your back, burying your hands in his hair, urging him on as he keeps kissing and licking your sensitive skin. You can’t find the words to describe what you’re feeling. Your head is spinning in the clouds. Your blood is churning in your veins. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, spreading across your chest and between your legs…it’s almost unbearable…and it’s delightful. When you feel his hand start grazing your breast, you moan loudly. 

“Did…you…ever…” you hear him mumble between kisses, “…with him?” 

“No…never…” you answer breathlessly. 

He stops, and raises himself on his forearms to look at you, hovering above your face. 

“Why?” He asks with a slight frown.

At this point, you figure there’s no point in trying to come up with other dumb lies. 

“Because,” you confess, your breath still shallow, “Whenever he started to kiss me…I’d start seeing your face.” 

You can tell by his stunned expression how much your answer strikes him. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do. You wonder if you were wrong to be so direct. But then, you see him grin at you, shaking his head in disbelief as he mentally puts the pieces together.

“You…you are one crazy bitch,” he laughs softly, “You know that?” 

“And you,” you reply promptly, gently cupping his face with your hands, “Are the most oblivious, stubborn, idiot ghost I’ve ever met.” His smile widens, and you stroke your thumb against his cheek.

“Come here, you…” you say softly, pulling him down to you and kissing him once again.

You close your eyes, reveling in his touch. He kisses you slowly, deeply, tasting you. He grazes his tongue against yours, exploring your mouth. You gently bite down on his lips, suckling on them as he hums appreciatively. You feel his grip on you tighten, and his hands start to roam across your body. You let your hands glide down his back, before bringing them to his chest, blindly feeling for the buttons of his shirt and popping them open one after the other. He inches his way down your thighs, caressing them and making you shiver, before grasping the hem of your nightgown and lifting it upward, gliding his hands beneath the fabric. You gasp loudly when you feel his cold hands touch your bare skin. He silences you with another lustful kiss. You finish unbuttoning his shirt and impatiently tug at it, until he pulls back and manages to slip it off and toss it aside, momentarily breaking the kiss. You exchange a quick glance, and you silently give him permission to pull your nightshirt over your head as well, leaving you bare in front of him except for a pair of lacy panties. He breathes heavily, his eyes roaming wildly across your body, drinking you in. You start feeling self conscious, your chest rising and falling with each breath, and you search for his mouth again, hungrily pulling him to you. You’re not sure how this happened, but suddenly you’re aware that he’s gotten rid of his pants as well and is now only wearing striped boxers. You revel in the kiss, tugging and pulling at him, wanting to feel more of him, needing to have him as close as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” he then whispers against your lips, eyes still closed, “I lost my fucking mind when you came back and I knew you were with him…”

“Stop talking about him,” you answer breathlessly, “He’s nothing…he never was nothing…this is all I care about…You are all I cared about…” 

This confession seems to fuel him even more, and he kisses you again, devouring your mouth. 

“Say it, babes…” he moans, “Please…”

His hands swipe across your abdomen, caressing your stomach and your thighs, making your body shiver with pleasure. 

“W-what?” You barely manage to answer as he goes back to biting your neck, nipping at every sensitive spot of your skin. 

“Tell me you’re mine…” he whispers in your ear, before biting down on a particularly sensible spot and sucking on your skin. He roughly grinds his hips into yours, sending a shock of pleasure through your entire body. You moan loudly, your eyes rolling back in your head as your push yourself against him, spreading your legs even more. You clutch onto his shoulders, your nails raking his back, and you hear him moan in appreciation. 

“Babes…”

“I’m yours….” You gasp out. Encouraged by your words, he slips his hands beneath you and grabs your buttocks, grinding into you again. Your moans echo in the room. He’s already driving you insane, and you are loving every second of it. 

“Say it again…”

“I’m yours, Beetlejuice…” you whimper, biting down on his shoulder as he keeps bucking his hips against yours. He hisses when he feels your teeth on his skin, urging you to do it again. 

“Yes, baby…” he moans, pulling his head back, “Tell me you want to be mine…” 

“I want…to be yours…” 

You’ve lost all rational thought by now, but when you feel his hands reach for your thong, you gasp and he stops for a moment. You look at him: he’s staring at you with an uncertain expression in his eyes. He’s panting, but he doesn’t move. 

“Babes…” he whispers, “If you’re not sure…Please…” 

For a moment, you just stare at him. You can feel your heart pounding inside your chest. And truly, looking at the flustered - and now pink haired - demon in front of you, you realize you’ve never wanted anything so much in your whole life. Slowly, you gather up your courage and grasp the border of your thong, lifting your hips to take it off. Then, you lean forward, reaching out and gently taking hold of his boxers, pulling them down as well. He kicks them out of the way and stares at you, transfixed. There’s a moment of silence, filled with unspoken words that race between the two of you. Then you place your hands on his hips, pulling yourself up against him. You look right into his eyes, not wanting to break this contact. 

“Make me yours,” you whisper.