#greaser!beej

That’s my take on Greaser!Beej fornow

*rummages through my fly ridden pile of art*

AHA-

A little Greaser Beetlejuice x Reader with soft greaserjuice vibes cause I’m a self-indulgent little fuck lmao.

Just as a heads up, this is a little more angsty than I normally go, and like, slight blood.

 Ok, here we go!

 Your ears we’re still ringing. It was a rough night. It was a rough fight. And all you wanted was to go home. You walked through the door, and almost smiled as you saw your boyfriend, his back turned to you. he heard you come in and smiled as he turned around. “hey babes! You’re h-“ He paled as he saw your state. Battered and bruised with blood still dribbling from your mouth. You tried to smile, you just couldn’t force it. “Hey Beej…”

His hair turned a fiery red as he rushed to you, holding your head in his hands. He tilted your head up so he could get a better look. Deep purpled pulsed through his red hair. It broke his heart. It made him furious. Who the fuck did this to his perfect angel? Who in the hell hurt his breather? Who did they think they fucking were?!

“who did this to you?” he said through clenched teeth, his thumb brushing the blood from your mouth. You shook your head. “it doesn’t matter Beej-“ “yes it does!” he snapped. “it matters Y/N! who hurt you?!” You shook your head slightly harder. “It doesn’t matter Beej! I don’t even know their name! I don’t-“ you broke off, biting your swollen lip and hiding your face in his striped shirt.

The fire dimmed from the demons eyes and the purple begun to over take his colorful hair. He held you tighter, grabbing his leather jacket from the couch to wrap you in it. Why wasn’t he there? He should have been there. It was his fault. “just hold me right now… please” you whispered, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Of course, Doll” he mumbled, leading you to the couch and holding you close, pulling you into his lap. He kissed the top of your head. “what happened?” you sighed. “well, one moment everything was fine. I was drinking at the bar. And then there was yelling. And shit got really real really fast and a giant bar fight broke out. Everyone was yelling and screaming and fuck…it got broken up when the cops came.”

He shook his head. You could feel his grip on you tighten. “fuck babes…I’m sorry. I should have been there.” You shook your head. “there’s no way you could have known…” you mumbled, running your hands through his now blue hair. He sighed. “I’m just glad you’re ok.” He said, moving you off him and getting the first aid kit.

He came back and started patching you up. Cleaning your busted lip and icing your black eye. He chuckled. “Its crazy babes. Only you can make a busted face look sexy” he joked. It worked, it made you laugh. “Glad you think so bug.” You cooed, brining the blush to his cheeks with the old nickname. “want some hot coco?” he asked. You nodded. “more than anything.” He nodded, kissing your forehead. He went to the kitchen, and a few minuets later came back with 2 mugs of hot coco, topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. He really went all out.

He settled back down on the couch and hugged you, giving you your drink. He noticed you had already turned on the outsiders. “Fuck babes, you really wanna make me cry tonight, huh?” he teased, putting his arm around you. You shrugged and snuggled into his side. “Hey, it’s not every day I get to see your soft side. You know I’m gonna make the most of it.” You chuckled. He did too.

Please have mercy on me, tattoos are one of my weaknesses that y’all have yet to uncover until now

His tattoos snake all over his arms, some leak onto his chest, upper shoulders and back, yet they remain hidden by the crew-neck, black, tattered t-shirt that he wears

The kicker is, they move. They change, just like his hair, twisting over the expanse of his skin and morphing to suit him. Lots of snakes, stripes, insects, teeth, demonic symbols— writing in languages from dimensions you’ve never heard of, adding an unusually tribal flair to his greaser aesthetic and reminding you of what he really is; demonic.

please i adore this so much i wanna wear his ring on a chain so bad

- “you wanna pick out one of my rings doll?”

- it takes you by surprise a bit n you look confused

- “ya know how everyone gives their sweetheart a ring on a chain....... i figured i could give mine one too?”

- of course you say yes

- you run your fingers over his rings n take off the one you want

- it’s silver w a black crystals that reflects green in the center

- it has his initials carved into it

- he pulls a chain out of thin air n loops it through the ring

- beej puts it on you very gently

Thanks to @lovebugbeej for sharing in my thirst for greaser!Beej. This AU has watered my crops and added ten years to my life.

Black leather jacket, extremely worn, with his signature black and white stripes on the silk lining. 

Black shirt beneath, tattered at the hem and sleeves. 

Has a cigarette tucked behind his ear and matches in his boot. Tucked in his other boot, he’s got a switchblade with the words “IT’S SHOWTIME” engraved on the handle.

Heavy af engineer boots; although he can float and doesn’t technically have to make sound when he moves, the heavy clomp of his boots on the floor give him an edge when he’s trying to be intimidating. 

Dark jeans, stained and ripped and oh so very tight. 

Comb kept tucked in his back pocket, though he doesn’t really care if his hair gets disheveled. It’s all part of the look.

His hair is black at the roots, green at the tips, like it’s been dyed and allowed to grow out. It still changes color depending on his mood, but sometimes when he’s feeling particularly vulnerable, he’ll style it so that the colored part is tucked back and harder to see. 

He’s got tattoos visible when he takes his jacket off; though you’ve never caught them moving, he never has the same tattoo in the same place twice. After you’ve been together a while, you notice your name start appearing on his skin, just over his heart. It’s the only one that doesn’t move.

Has big chunky rings on his fingers, skulls and big stones and symbols you don’t recognize. Your favorite is a smooth black opal that shimmers green in the light. One night, he strings it on a necklace and fastens it around your neck. “That way everyone knows you’re my doll.”

The first time he asks if you want to meet “Big Sandy,” you’re pretty sure she’s another ghost. What you were not expecting was the roar of an engine so loud it rattled your entire house as he swung a gigantic motorcycle out of thin air and into your living room. His chest swelled up as he showed her off, including her custom paintjob that you recognized as a sandworm. “Isn’t she a beaut? She’s my pride and joy. I mean, besides you, sweet stuff.”

Calls you “doll” more than your actual name. Also calls you “sweet stuff/sweet cheeks,” “skirt,” “bird,” and yes, the always classic “babe/babes.”

N/S/F/W