#can these guys be any dorkier I swear to god

[bunnyreaper]

oh my god i,,, 🥺 i know i was JUST here but i am once agin. sliding into your asks to propose more father things--

the teenage/older child brings home their first partner, how would gabo handle it, and what do you think would be able to win him over? 👀

notes: angel hi!! im ngl this took me a while bcs i was half convinced this ask only happened in my dreams sksksk, i also struggled so if it's bad im so sorry, i went for a lil fic rather than hc's???

warnings: f!reader, slight overprotective gabe.

The second Gabriel lays eyes on the young man, you know he doesn't like what he sees. 

Josh, as he introduced himself, holds himself with far too much confidence for an awkward 17-year-old, yet he tries to pull it off all the same. 

When he smiles as he shakes Gabriel's hand, you begin to worry.

Your own greetings are much more friendly than your husband's, as you're intrigued to see your daughter's choice of guys. Seemingly a little different from your own at that age. 

Motherly instincts take over, and you pull everyone to the kitchen, so you can get Josh a drink and see if he's hungry. 

"Mama, he doesn't need feeding." Your daughter sighs, seemingly embarrassed by your maternal display.

Gabriel stands quietly, watching Josh from the corner of his eye as he makes himself at home at your kitchen island. You quietly watch Gabriel, ready to mediate at any moment. 

"So Josh, I hear you're on the football team?" You mention, hoping to start the process of getting to know him somehow. Your daughter has been very tight-lipped about her boyfriend, even with you.

You can practically feel Gabriel's eye twitching as his brain makes all sorts of assumptions.

"Yes, Mrs. Reyes." He responds politely. "I'm a running back. Did you play football, Mr. Reyes?" He turns his attention to Gabriel. While you sense Josh is a well-mannered boy, you can see he's desperate to win Gabriel over. 

"Basketball, mostly, but a little bit of football too." Gabriel offers a forced smile, and you can tell he's really trying to adjust to the newness of this scenario while fighting all his papa bear instincts. 

"And please call me (Y/N)." You chime in, approaching your husband for a moment as you stroke his arm. 

"I'd be scared to see you on the other team for sure." Josh laughs good-naturedly. 

"He didn't always look that mean and scary, he was a lot dorkier in high school." Your daughter interjects, ignoring her father's scowl. "What? I've seen the pictures! Definitely not as big and burly as he is now." 

Gabriel crosses his arms over his chest, sending your daughter a playful glare. "Well, a life in the military builds you up." 

She rolls her eyes in the way she usually does. "Mom doesn't look like a tank." 

"I know I've let myself go a little, but I'm not that out of shape!" You gasp, pretending to be offended by your daughter's comments. 

"You're perfect, mi vida." Gabriel whispers, softening for a moment.

"Gross." She declares, her nose crinkling in disgust. "I'm gonna go change, okay?" Your daughter sends you a pleading look that begs you to keep things calm while she's gone.

She leaves the kitchen, and the room falls quiet before Gabriel fills the silence. 

"So what are your intentions with my daughter?" 

"Gabe!" You gasp, smacking him playfully. The poor boy was going to be traumatized. 

"Uh, I just really like her, I swear." Josh's smile is soft and genuine. "She's sweet, she's been tutoring in Spanish because I've been struggling, and I help her with physics." 

"She hates physics." You comment, knowing that the help would really be doing a lot for her. 

Josh looks somewhat nervous, though entirely truthful. "We just realized we have a lot of fun together." 

Gabriel simply nods. 

"Happy?" You ask, brow raised. Time would tell what was to become of Josh, and what his intentions were--he really didn't need the interrogation. 

"I understand." Josh offers. "My mom gave her a grilling too. She handled it really well, though." 

You chuckle, though your chest flares with your own protective streak. 

"As parents, we can't help but be overprotective." Gabriel adds. 

"Some of us are better at keeping it to ourselves, but my husband is a barbarian." You nudge him with your hips teasingly. "I'm not going to pretend to understand you men." 

"He's hardly a man." Gabriel comments and then is fixed with a sharp look from you. "No offense, kid." 

"It's okay. When I heard her last name, I knew that if I hurt her, I'd probably end up in a ditch... sorry." Josh cringes, realizing that's probably a little too blunt.

"I wouldn't put you in a ditch. Too easy to find your body." 

"Gabe!" You chastise, but the two are sharing a laugh regardless.

Gabriel is warming up to him, even if it's just a little bit. You know it'll take some time for him to truly trust Josh with your daughter's heart, but for now, it's a step in the right direction. 

"Uh, Mr. Reyes," Josh begins the conversation again. "I was actually wondering, would you have any advice for someone looking to join the military?"

"Don't." Your husband replies without missing a beat.

"Hey now, if we both hadn't ended up in Overwatch, we never would've met." You add.

"I suppose." He says, before taking a moment to think of some actual advice. You can almost see him slip into Commander mode. "Whatever ego and pride you have going in won't get you anywhere. Leave it for your civilian life. And get a therapist sooner rather than later. 

"Right, sounds good." Josh nods, a little taken aback. 

"You know, if you're still together through your training, it's going to make things really difficult. Being with someone in the service isn't easy, and my daughter doesn't deserve to be hanging onto some guy who just comes and goes." 

You cringe at Gabriel's harsh words, even if you're right there in believing your daughter deserves the best. "That seems slightly hypocritical of us to say." 

Gabriel raises a brow at you. "It's not the same, you were right there with me."

"Don't go giving them ideas." You mutter. "But, it was still hard, as all relationships are. You can figure that one out for yourselves, though, I'm sure." 

Josh seems to be absorbing the information. "Yeah. Thank you both for your honesty, though." 

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?" You ask, practically desperate to offer more hospitality. 

"No, I'm okay, thank you." 

"Piece of advice, if you're going to be sticking around." Gabriel begins, his voice not brash or challenging. "Accept the woman's cooking. She'll feed you one way or another." The words serve as a small olive branch.

"Yes sir." Josh nods, and you and Gabriel share a look. 

"Everything okay?" Your daughter asks, returning to the kitchen with a skeptical look. 

"Everything's fine." Her father replies, yet she looks to you for confirmation. 

"It's good. I'm putting a pizza in the oven." You add. 

"Of course you are, we're gonna go watch movies." She says, tugging Josh off of the stool.

"Not in your room, you're not." Gabe adds, ready to follow them both. 

"Dad!" She cries. 

"... I just wanted to spend some time getting to know the kid. Cálmate, chica." He smirks. "Besides, if we're all on the couch, you can cuddle up between your two favorite guys." Gabriel pulls your daughter into him, embarrassing her with kisses smothered all over her face. 

She squirms, pretending to hate the attention. "Cállate la boca, papa!" 

[fandomoblivion]

Ella Enchanted (part two)

Fandom: Stranger Things season 3

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: (Y/N), also known as Nine, was a girl being experimented on all her life by the Hawkins Lab, conditioned into following every command her brain heard. She managed to escape the lab, with the help of her little sister Eleven, and was taken in by Hopper. Now, it’s a year later, and the three of them are a happy family. She just got her first job, where she works alongside Steve “The Hair” Harrington… who her father doesn’t much like.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1,318

Notes: sorry this is kinda short, i’m really sick but i needed to get some creativity out tonight, ya dig?

prologue / one 

The next day, you, Steve, and Robin took turns manning the counter. While Robin was in the front, you and Steve didn’t speak to each other. In fact, he altogether ignored your existence. After you told him your story, you told him that you had to get home to Hopper, and Steve didn’t say another word. 

You were confused. A little hurt, too. You were finally making friends with someone who could begin to understand you, and it was all for naught. 

“Is, uh, is he here?” You were brought out of your thoughts from a voice out front, which made Steve perk up. 

“Is… who here?” Robin’s voice answered. 

Steve jumped up and and slammed the door open to the front. “Henderson!” He exclaimed. You opened the window just in time to see Steve do a little jump and yell, “Henderson! He’s back, he’s back!” as the middle schooler in front of him laughed gleefully. 

“I’m back! You got the job!”

“I got the job!” Steve whooped, followed by his (hopefully not) best imitation of a trumpet. He and the kid then did a sort of handshake with each other, complete with lightsabers and Steve getting stabbed by one.

“How many children are you friends with?” Robin asked dryly. 

Steve just sighed and put his hat on the counter. “I’m going on my break. Come on dude!” 

Right as they were going to turn away, the kid turned back around. “Banana boat please! Oh, hey! It’s El’s sister! Hi El’s sister!” He said, waving to you. You awkwardly smiled and waved back, still leaning through the window. 

Robin made the ice cream as quickly as she could, handed it to Steve, and ushered the two of them away. She then turned to face you, leaning back onto the counter. “God, can they be any dorkier?”

You shrugged. “They seem to have fun.” Robin rolled her eyes and turned back to the counter, where an eager Erica Sinclair was waiting with her friends. So, you went into the bathroom in the back for a breather. You sat on the cold linoleum floor of the bathroom, ignoring all the germs that you knew were down there with you. You weren’t used to being in the real world yet. You were still getting used to talking to people without them barking orders at you. In the lab, your mind was fuzzy 24/7. 

You exited after a few minutes and saw Steve and the kid, whose name you quickly learned was Dustin--that’s right, he was there when Hopper rescued you--in the back room. Dustin was playing and replaying a tape, and Steve was pacing nervously.

“What are you guys doing?” You asked.

“It sounded familiar. The music right there, at the end.” Steve ignored you. Of course.

“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?! Listen to the Russian! We’re translating Russian!” Dustin turned to you. “We’re translating Russian.”

Steve nudged Dustin’s shoulder, his back to you, and very clearly whispered, “Why did you tell her? She can’t help.”

You stood up a little straighter. “I want to help.” 

Dustin grinned and picked up the tape. “Do you know Russian, El’s Sister?”

“Jesus, her name is (Y/N).”

“Okay, (Y/N). Do you know Russian?”

“I… I can.” 

“Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there,” Robin huffed, swinging the door open. She stopped when she saw her whiteboard, which was now covered in a Russian-to-English alphabet key. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds!”

“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin replied. 

“Yeah, and how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?”

Dustin looked baffled. “Great, does everyone know about the Russians?!” 

“You are both extremely loud. You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize the Russians use an entirely different alphabet. Sound about right?” There was a pause.

“I want to help.” You repeated. “Play it again.”

“Also, it’s your turn to sling ice cream, dingus.” Robin said, handing Steve the scoop. He sighed and headed out the front door.

“Okay, you know Russian, (Y/N)?” Dustin asked. 

“I can. Tell me to translate it.”

“Huh?” 

“Tell me to translate it.”

“Okay… can you translate this?” 

“No, like… like tell me to.”

“Dude, what are you into?!” Robin chuckled.

“Okay! Translate this, (Y/N).” Dustin hit play on the tape. 

Your mind went fuzzy. When the tape was over, you automatically said, “Nedelya dlinnaya. Serebryanyy kot pitayetsya, kogda siniy tsvet vstrechayetsya s zheltym na zapade.”

“Oh, shit.” Robin said, leaning forward in her chair towards you. “Where did you learn that?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even hear her. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west.” There. Your mind was clear. 

---

That night, when you were closing up the shop, Robin told Steve of your findings.

“I mean, it just… it just can’t be right,” Steve said, pulling down the gate in front of Scoops Ahoy. 

“It’s right.” You grumbled.

“Honestly, I think this is great news.” Dustin said.

“How is this great news? I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.” Steve said, catching up with you guys all headed for the parking lot. Robin had, thankfully, agreed to give you another ride home. 

“It’s not nonsense.” Dustin protested. “It’s too specific. It’s obviously a code.”

“What do you mean, a code?” Steve asked.

“Like a super secret spy code.” You laughed at your own answer, making Steve scowl.

“And how do we know her translation is right? I mean, did we even check it with a dictionary or anything?”

“Steve, she’s right. She broke it down for us and everything.” Robin pointed out. “Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘Fire the warhead at noon’?”

“‘The silver cat feeds.’ Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the true meaning of their message?” You said.

“Exactly. And why would anyone want to mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” You and Robin were bouncing off each other at this point, and Steve was just scowling every time you opened your mouth.

“Exactly. Evil Russians. So… how do we crack it?” Dustin asked.

Robin knew the answer to this one. “Translate the rest, and hopefully we find a pattern.”

“Maybe ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place. Or a person. Or a weapon!” You added. You turned, seeing that Steve wasn’t with you guys anymore. “Where’s Steve?”

You three looked around to see Steve rapidly fumbling for spare change in his wallet in front of a single-ride mechanical pony. “Steve, what are you doing?” Robin asked. 

“Uh, it’s a quarter. I need- do you have a quarter?” 

Robin chuckled and said, “You sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” as the three of you jogged over. 

“Give me a quarter!” Steve demanded. Fuzzy brain. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a quarter, holding it out for Steve before the other two even had time to register his words. Steve grabbed the quarter and put it into the machine. The horse started going, and a song played. Immediately you recognized it. 

“Holy shit.” Dustin whispered. “The music.” He went into his bag and pulled out the recorder. “The music!” He hit play, and you all listened to the track in the background of the Russian words match up to the horse in front of you. 

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?” Robin asked. 

Steve pointed to the name of the horse. “Indiana Flyer? I don’t… I don’t think so. This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

TAGLIST

@alina-margaret . @almostsecretmusic . @american-duchess . @anamcg317 . @annaewww . @blackandwhiteimagines . @bubblegumcat229 . @bucky-newtlock . @canny1902 .  @christinawxxx . @cosmickha0s . @creativedogs . @darkcrystal-wolf . @decaffeinatedtachycardia . @djisprobablydead . @eliza-kat . @eyeballtoes . @fandomsstolemylife00 . @fredweasleysupportgroup . @ggclarissa . @ginger-swag-rapunzel . @gracelynns . @grippleback-galaxy . @gruffle1 . @hananabee . @hannarudick . @harrys-kiwi . @heavenlyholland . @hellhoundschewtoy . @in-my-dreams-2000 . @izabellah816 . @likemeonlyme . @lilyhw1 . @mackycat11 . @megsell99 . @metuel18 . @morganmindflayer . @phluffyphantom . @potterhead-witch . @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc . @princessrow12 . @queen1054 . @rainbowmarta . @sheridans-dynamos . @thecaptainsgingersnap . @thegloryofliterature . @thoughstofaredhead . @ucantknowmeyet . @whataloadofmalarkey

[kensboytoy]

The Classifieds Ch. 1

Title: The Classifieds Fandom: Beetlejuice (Movie) Pairings: Beetlejuice/Reader Ratings: Explicit Chapters: 1/? Summary:  A curious leaflet falls into your possession on the day you move into your new place. You decide to call on the services of one 'bio-exorcist' and realize that you might be crushing pretty hard on a dead guy. How seductive can a sleaze like Beetlejuice really be?

Continue Reading or Read on AO3!

Moving into a new place was already a pain in the neck. Moving all by yourself? The worst. Well, except when you donated all your furniture to Goodwill because you knew that you weren’t strong enough to lug it up the teetering second story floor where your new place was. So, three big poofy comforters, several dozen pillows, stuffed animals, and many, many boxes full of weird 80’s toys later… Well, you collapsed in your makeshift nest and enjoying the rest of your busy evening in total silence.

The only lights you had were battery-powered string lights because the electric company hadn’t turned the power on yet, so you made it a lazy, comfy space all your own.

But without power, you couldn’t sit down and edit on your laptop or even use your phone (you’d need it to be on power-saving mode until the lights came on.) So you tried reading. That worked until the sun went down and your shitty vision was impaired. Then you tried sleeping but every creak of the apartment settling gave you a fright.

You idly flipped through the leaflets you had gotten in the mail around, squinting to see if there were any coupons to use. A small business card fell into you lap:

Betelgeuse: The 'Bio-Exorcist' 

Call BETELGEUSE, BETELGEUSE, BETELGEUSE!

You snorted. It was cute! Maybe you wouldn’t throw it away. But… there was no number on the back? You flipped it around and held it to the light. Nada.

“Pft. Like a dorkier version of Bloody Mary.” There was a smile on your face and you folded the paper up neatly to put in your wallet.

With a yawn and a stretch, you arose from your nest and waltzed into the bathroom to brush your teeth. The only light you had was a pocket flashlight you had gotten along attached to a rape whistle from some medical center long ago. You stared into the mirror for a moment as you patted your face with a warm towel.

“Bloody Mary, I don’t believe in you. Bloody Mary, I don’t believe in you. Bloody Mary, I don’t believe in you.”

You waited. Nothing. You shrugged your shoulders. That myth had been scary when you were younger but it never yielded any results.

As you started brushing out your hair, you continued.

“Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice…”

Another yawn and you closed the medicine cabinet before you changed into your nightgown and waltzed back into your bedroom. You flopped into your makeshift bed and stared at the card once again.

“What the hell is a Beetlejuice?”

Had you been looking at the mirror for a moment longer, you would’ve seen Bloody Mary, hair done up in curlers and charcoal face mask covering her very surprised expression before flickering away the moment you began to speak the words for the other spirit.

He was… stronger? Maybe that was the wrong word. Mary only had a passing interest in terrifying people, whereas Beetlejuice?

He thrived on it. Hell, almost got off on it, if he was honest. There was something delicious about scaring the living shit out of breathers.

So, Mary never stepped in when it was clear that the person had moved onto summoning him, instead. It’d be rude.

And summon him you did.

The lights flickered for a moment before shutting off, throwing the entire room into a pitch-black darkness that shouldn’t have been possible. Some of the light outside should still have been filtering in, or at the very least there should have been moonlight. Something. Anything. but all you got was darkness.

Darkness and the faint feeling that you were no longer the only one there.

After a brief moment, there was the distinctive sound of slithering and something crawled across your foot, wrapping around it as the lights flickered back on to reveal a… guy?

Well, a slob. He was normally built everywhere except for his stomach where he was decidedly bulky enough with a round beer belly. His hair was wild and all over the place - you couldn’t decide if his hair was white, blond, or green from the moss covering every inch of him. He looked like a bad Halloween decoration you’d leave on the porch to scare neighbors away from trick-or-treating.

“Why hell-o there, sweetcheeks,” he purred, voice somewhere between when you inhaled a fat cigar and the flush of a toilet. “You called?”

You yelped, flinging your blanket off you in a state of panic before grabbing your phone and fumbling to turn the camera light back on. You didn’t have a chance. The lights came back on to illuminate the figure in front of you and you shrunk in your seat.

And then you squinted.

“What the fuck?” you managed to gasp. “What the ever-loving fuck.”

Your hands instinctively reached for a pillow to cling onto for dear life and to use as a potential weapon if he got any closer.

“Holy fuck, there’s a fucking crazy homeless man in my fucking house and he looks like Riff-Raff from Rocky Horror fucked a pile of moss. What the fuck.”

Had you not been completely terrified, you would have said he was kinda cute. Kinda. If you were into creepy corpses with shit-eating grins.

“I understood-” Beetlejuice paused, counting on his grimy fingers for a moment and having to think about what he was about to say. “More than half of those words, I think. But I’ll go ahead and treat ‘em like compliments, babes.”

There was a wide grin on his face that displayed his crooked teeth and showed off some of the most prime real estate for bugs that existed in this or any other plane of existence. It would have been charming to a certain type of people, but as you had not taken any hard drugs in your life, the chance of you being one of those types of people was slim.

Spitting into one hand and using it to slick his hair back in a manner that usually turned a few stomachs, the ghostly, grody apparition leered down at you in what could almost be likened to a man leering at his hangover-curing breakfast after a long night drinking.

“Beetlejuice, at your service. Bio-exorcist and professional haunter since the late black plague.” He swiftly bowed and smirked. “What can I do for ya, little breather?””

“Oh, you’re Beetlejuice? I mean, I guess… that makes sense.”

You paused and sat up, staring at him over and over again, your heart still racing. He certainly made the place smell damper than an apartment in this neck of the woods usually was.

“Uh. Your ad - well, I found your ad in my mail. It was pretty vague. It just said to call your name three times-”

You reached out and touched his leg and then quickly recoiled. Oh, he was real. You were not dying.

“What the fuck. Am I really seeing you? I swear to God I don’t use coke or anything weird and - holy shit - you’re real.” You poked at him. “You’re actually here and not some Hatsune Miku hologram what the fuck is happening.”

You scrunched your face up and furrowed your brow.

“Bio-exorcist? …Living exorcisms?” you frowned. “Shouldn’t it just be ‘exorcist’?”

Pursing his dangerously chapped lips, the poltergeist frowned at you and let his bushy brows furrow into a look of confusion, mimicking your expression.

“I’m real, dollface. What, you didn’t think my business card was serious?”

Oh, now that was worrying. He’d spread those out as much as possible during his last visit to the world of the living, and what if people were just calling him up for no reason other than thinking it was just some prank?

“Just ‘cause I ain’t flesh and bone doesn’t make me any less real.”

Then the subject of bio-exorcism. Oh, one of his favorite topics, aside from how good he was with his tongue and how easily he could drink anyone in any dimension under the table. Despite the fact that sometimes, he did drink under the table.

Not a lot of bars liked that. Wasn’t really a good party trick either.

“I'm here for spirits, y’see? If some living jackass moves into their place, I chase ‘em out. Keep the crib empty. Make sure no one’s tryin’ to regular-exorcise them.”

You frowned.

“Well, like I said, it was pretty vague. Slipped in with the coupons you usually think you’re going to use but never end up using.” You took out your wallet and removed the slip before handing it over to him. It was one of his more vague cards that left out the specific details of his gig. “There was something about it that just made me… I dunno.”

You, being the sweet young thing you were, blushed and cleared your throat gently.

“I’m really sorry - honestly I am. But I… Well, how to put this very gently and in a sincere way… I personally don’t believe in ghosts. Not saying they can’t be out there, especially not after that crazy weird stunt you just pulled.”

You held up your hands defensively, trying to show that you didn’t mean any harm.

“If I did, I think that’d open a lot of gates to my already hard-to-deal-with trauma.”

Then, you sighed and slumped back in your big cushion of a bed to stare up at him. You were studying him in what little light there was now that it was back on. He didn’t really look like he was fucking around.

“But I guess this might shake that idea up.” Your eyebrow perked up in inquiry. “Are you some sort of ghost advocate? Like… their protector?”

“Their… protector?”

Beej stared, open-mouthed and slack-jawed for a long moment before leaning back and slapping a hand across his knee as he let out the world’s loudest hoot of laughter and fell into hysterics.

Oh, first you didn’t believe in ghosts, and now you thought he was there to protect them? That was absolutely rich.

Just because he worked for them didn’t mean that he was suddenly their protector.

Tears of absolute mirth rolled down his ghostly cheeks, the spirit having to try a few times before he could actually stop laughing. Chuckling and wheezing a few more times before he could actually calm down enough to answer you, he glanced down at you and let his face fall utterly blank.

“No.”

A wave of his hand and a cloud of smoke, a pair of reading glasses appeared perched upon his face along with a booklet in his already outspread palm.

“I am solely here to facilitate the removal of pre-mortem nuisances from the property of any spirits, hauntings, or those of the ghostly persuasion,” came the weirdly educated, prim and proper voice before it dropped down a few registers to rock tumbler. “I boot living folks out of ghost homes.”

You shrugged, not fazed by his childish behavior. Sure, you thought he was weird and yeah, it was freaky to have a stranger in your house. But for all you knew, he was harmless. Annoying but harmless.

“Well, I’m not a ghost and there ain’t one here, my dude. I don’t think I need your services…” You frowned and opened up your wallet again, this time grabbing a couple twenty dollar bills and handing it to him. “I feel like an asshole for calling you. I was gonna use that for take-out but I think you should have it. Y’know. For showing up to perform your services of, uh, removal. Like a cancellation fee you gotta pay if you fuck up.”

You thought for a moment. And then uttered words you never thought you’d ever say:

“Or you could hang around here for awhile. Lights aren’t on and there’s no cable… But I could order that food for two-” Wait. “Uh, if you eat? Sorry. I don’t want to seem ignorant. I just. This shit is a lot to process.”

Annoyed at yourself, you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“What I’m saying is that even though there aren’t ghosts, you can kick it if you don’t want to go back to wherever I summoned you from. Can’t imagine it was pleasant.”

“No ghosts, huh? What 'm I, chopped liver?”

As if to prove his point, Beetlejuice kept very steady eye contact with you as he reached into his torso and stuck a hand out the other side, the other moving to yoink off his head and alas-poor-Yorick with it.

Practical effects were good. But to do that on the fly? And as convincingly as he did?

That wasn’t really… something possible.

Beetlejuice pulled his hand back through and replaced his noggin as he stared right at you, one grimy brow lifted as he wordlessly pocketed the bills. Even if he didn’t typically use living money, there was still bartering worth in the paper. He could always sell it to some sentimental dumbass who missed the green of the living world.

Which were… far more people than most thought. Most would assume that the first thing you’d do when you died is embrace socialism.

But apparently not.

You grimaced. Not because the sight was scary to you - you had grown up on horror movies. It was just the suddenness of his motions that unnerved you. You ran your fingers through your hair and shook your head before he continued.

“And we do eat. it isn’t something we need to do, but it’s… fun. Little reminder of breather life.”

“This is nuts. I’m talking to a dead guy on my first night in my new place. Who the fuck even prepares you for this shit?” You sighed and moved towards the edge of your bed. “Look, man, I’m going to play the dumb living human card a lot tonight and I’m sorry but…”

You eyed him up and down again curiously.

“I didn’t even think there was a God or an afterlife - to me this just feels like some drug trip. But… you’re real.” You stood up to walk around him. Your hand gently touched his lapel, fingers sliding down the fabric before you pulled away. “I’m having a fucking existential crisis with some zoot zuit wearin’ - pimp? - showing up because I said his fucking name three times.”

Your eyes locked with his briefly.

“I’m guessing say it another three times send you back to - Hell? Purgatory? So I won’t, ‘Juice. Unless this is painful to be here.”

Annoyed at the situation, you rubbed your tired eyes. Without another word, you unlocked your phone and pulled up a Chinese delivery place's menu.

“Well, dinner’s on me. I promise not to ask you anymore super stupid questions if you stay. Lord knows I’m too dumb to get this shit. But, uh. Company would be cool. If you want.” You blushed. It wasn’t like you were asking him for a date. But you were curious if you could learn more. “Or I could send you back to whatever bliss awaits you. Uh. Dealer’s choice?”

His face contorted at the mere mention of the other side. Sure, it wasn’t eternal damnation. but it also wasn’t blissful. It was… mostly like being alive. Paperwork and jobs and having to still deal with money.

Capitalism didn’t stop along with someone’s heartbeat. No, the fucking system stuck around post-mortem. Perhaps there was some special place where the really exceptional people went - to some sort of good place - but Beej’d be fucked if he ever saw it or even heard mention of anything like that.

“Eugh. No, the longer I can stay topside, the better, dollface,” he grimaced, one eye following you as you walked around and examined him. And sure, he tried to look his best, puffing out his chest and sucking in the gut he had. After all, he did that around any pretty little thing he saw, on the off chance that… well…

That you’d wanna hitch a ride on the B.J. Express. First and only stop: Fucksville.

Christ, that line was probably why he never got laid unless it was through the exchange of some cold, hard cash. He nearly owned a huge stake at Dante’s at this point.

“I'll stay with you,” he proclaimed, then as if he could read your mind, “Consider it a date. I'll pay ya back for this.”

“A date?” You didn’t sound repulsed like a normal person should have been. No, you were more perplexed. “A cool ghost pops into the world of the living and wants to go on a date with some random human - no wait, what did you call me, a breather?”

You laughed softly and handed your phone over to him, the menu pulled up. You rested your chin on your hand as you looked up at him quizzically.

“Not trying to presume anything, but, uh. I heard demons and shit were hot, right? I mean, you guys can have orgies and orgies without fear of STDs or baby-making. Plus, again, demon girls are hot. Now you’re stuck on a date with a breather?”

Figuring it was a joke, you shrugged.

“Whatever floats your boat. You don’t gotta pay me back. Like I said, I could use the company.” You flashed him a smile. “You are pretty cool, after all. It’d be nice if you stuck around…”

“Oh, yeah, no. Don’t get me wrong, succubi are great. They’ll ride you until you can’t see or walk straight. But, uh.”

Rubbing the back of his head, he tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t be an outright lie, but that wouldn’t make him seem like too much of a creep. After all, most folks didn’t go for creeps. And those who did? They were usually into the stereotypical “hot stalker” creep. No, he couldn’t blow this shit with his usual molestation and upfront attitude. He might actually have a chance here.

“They don’t tend to be my type. Waaaaaay too aggressive. I prefer to be the one in charge,” he said, glancing at the living human to see what sort of reaction that would have on you. To see if you scoffed, turned red, or both.

To see if you would be into banging.

You blushed. Well, you had asked so you couldn’t be mad. Not like you were. Beetlejuice seemed gross and weird but… no alarm bells were ringing yet.

“So I was right about the pimp suit?” you chuckled. “Well, if you wanna live lavishly like a King then by all means, order whatever you want. Just be careful ‘bout the duck. It’s the fanciest thing on that menu but…”

You waved your hand flat out as if to say so-so.

“Not worth it. The kung pow chicken? Super bomb.”

You relaxed back in your cushions and waited for him to place his order.

“I get more of a switch vibe from you, Juice. But I’ll believe you. I’d be confident with a cool suit too.” You pursed your lips for a moment. “Did you die in that suit or do you get to pick your outfits in the afterlife?”

A switch?

Oh, that was entirely true. Hell, if anything Beej could be a pushover if someone batted their eyes and pursed their lips in the right way. But would he ever admit to it outside of either regular or sexy torture?

Never.

...well, maybe. But he’d have to be either overwhelmingly drunk or high to do so. He didn’t like to admit that there was any part of himself that was anything other than a smooth-talking, dominant, seductive casanova, but he knew that secretly there may have been something that wasn’t wholly dominant about him.

However, he wasn’t about to let this pretty young thing know. Not unless there was a whip or stilettos involved.

“Nah, doll. I'm all daddy.” He thumped his chest at that, shooting you his best smile. Which was more like looking at a pane of broken glass.

“And this old thing? Buried in it, but can change if I want. I just think it adds a certain charm, don’t you agree?”

You giggled, delighted that this old dirt bag used such a trendy title. Sure, older gals used to call men Daddy all the time, but the way he said it wasn’t exactly in that context. It was more like the horny millennial fad.

“You must have been fucking some younger spirits to get that lingo, Daddy-O,” you teased, purposely using the outdated version of the name.

At his narcissistic question, you decided to indulge him just a little bit.

“I like it. Not everyday someone pulls off stripes so well,” you complimented to boost his ego. “If only I could see you properly, but all these little lights can only show me just a little taste.”

Maybe he could light up the room. If you goaded him with compliments… Free utilities were free utilities, man.

“I guess a Daddy does need a suit. Maybe a nice belt…”

Oh, you hoped it was too dark to see your clever little smirk. You liked playing this game with a dead man.

“But it depends on what kinda Daddy you are, Juice. The word is so carelessly used nowadays. So many wimps using it to sound cool.” Woah, hello sudden confidence. It was nice to feel like you weren’t some meek geek. “There are lots of ways to wear the name up here in the living.”

Oh, but he wasn’t going to fold just like that. Even if you were acting so confident, Beej still had enough ego to topple civilizations. Granted, had you taken the lead and pushed him over, that would be a completely different story.

But as it was? He could deal with words.

At least until you either started pointedly giving commands or begging for his cock. Either of those - anything that was explicit and couldn’t just be mistaken for simple flirting - and he would be a goner.

With a snap of his grimy fingers, the lights buzzed and came on. Not with their usual electric glow, but with what almost seemed like candlelight from within. He wasn’t really turning the power on - he was using them to conduct a different light source.

And from there? His suit was all the easier to see. Along with the very obviously hard cock that pressed against the front of those striped slacks.

“How’s about it, dollface? Like what you see?” he purred, running a hand down his body for either your amusement, or for your enjoyment. Depended on whether or not you were just teasing to be a tease, or if you would actually go for a roll in the hay. “Does Daddy measure up to what you were thinking?”

You gawked. You stared! Your eyes were round like dinner plates. That blush burned your face so suddenly that it was an obvious tell. And your heart nearly skipped a beat. That was very unexpected, despite you explicitly trying for this very result.

Beetlejuice was gross. But in a very, very attractive way. A slob with charm.

“O-oh wow,” you murmured. Bashfully, you looked away and grabbed the pillow you were holding earlier. You bit your lower lip. You didn’t find it wrong to embrace being dirty, but part of you felt like it would be too ‘slutty’ of yourself to start flirting harder. The ghost just met you - would you really want to mess with someone who would hit it and quit it?

“That and more,” came the soft reply. “You sure I called a bio-exorcist and not some other dirty line?”

Cautiously, you sat forward in your seat and looked up at him. God, he was cute.

“I can see lots of us living folks calling you up.” You wet your lips eagerly. Then, you paused. And blushed even harder.

It was then that you realized that you were only in your pajamas. No underwear underneath, nada! Just the thin fabric of your shirt and pants. It was pretty revealing in this light if you could look at yourself the way he was leering at you.

“I-I feel very underdressed compared to you… Um. Sh-should I change into something nicer? I, uh, don’t want you to think I look like a trash goblin.”

Oh, he could instantly see that you were hardly wearing anything once the lights flickered on, his eyes doing a full sweep of your body and taking in your warm, plush form as he felt his cock twitch. Hell, it was probably something that was very visible.

A slow grin spread over his face, Beetlejuice leaning in and reaching out to touch your thigh as he gave his lips a long lick. Entirely done just to draw attention to how long and talented his tongue looked. Just wanting to spur you on and encourage the little slut to get up and climb over and onto his lap.

“Oh, not at all. I think you look good enough to eat, babes.”

Slut? Was that already what he was thinking of you as?

Well, given that some of his favorite folks were sluts? Including himself? He thought of slut as a term of honor - the way some folks might call their pals bastards.

Almost immediately, the hand on your thigh slid further inwards, pressing against the clothed flesh of your cunt. Straight to the point. After all, as much as Beetlejuice did love himself some good bush, he hated to beat around it.

His thumb set to stroking you through the thin fabric of your pajama bottoms, the lights beginning to dim a bit more. Grow hazier. Grow more seductive. in line with his mood and actions.

“In fact… I think i could forego dinner for somethin’ sweeter.”

You stared at that tongue for a moment and let your face feel hotter. It was clear you liked what you saw. There was a small piece of your mind telling you not to let some creep get it on the first date, but...

He was cute. Gross. Very, very much so. But he was a poltergeist just looking for fun.

When he touched you, you gasped involuntarily. Your back stiffened along with your now hardened nipples and you froze. What should you say to that bold statement?

“Do you do this to all the humans who summon you or did I catch you in a mood?” you breathed. It wasn’t a denial or a refusal. And from how the thin fabric clung to your wet self, that very much indicated that you were already turned on from the sight of him.

“You haven’t even been here ten minutes and you’re already so handsy.”

You tried to be as playful as you could despite being so nervous.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna skip foreplay and try and get to it… Why, that would be no fun at all, Daddy.”

Oh, you were playing with fire now.

“Well, when I see such a cute little doll, surely you can’t blame me for being so eager to get to know you,” he purred, fingers slipping past the fabric as soon as he could see that you wouldn’t put up a fight and plunging knuckle-deep into your soaked little cunt. Getting a good feel for what he’d be fucking later.

And then you insinuated that he wasn’t gonna give you any foreplay. Beetlejuice didn’t take kindly to that. He may have been a pervert, a scoundrel, a knave, a bastard, a…

He forgot where he was going with that.

Oh, right. he may have been all of those things, but he was also an egotistical prick. Meaning that if he could have someone begging for his cock after being teased for hours, then he would put in the extra effort.

So one of his striped tentacles slipped forward, curling up your shirt to wrap around your tits and mimic fucking them.

“Are you gonna be good and let me have what I want, babes? Or does Daddy have to take it?”

With your cunt throbbing and body aching for his touch, you moaned abruptly as soon as he entered you with those dirty digits. You squirmed and let your tight hole wrap around him, tightening as he played around. The tentacle was what really caught you by surprise. There was a small squeak from your lips and you tensed up before allowing him to continue.

Oh, was he threatening you?

“Well… what happens if I struggle?” you asked curiously. It was clear you were a little freak who enjoyed the idea of both. “Will that tentacle make sure I join you in the afterlife?”

You were pouting a bit up at him. Your body wanted him to continue, that was clear. But you wanted to know which side of the dice to roll.

“I wanna know what Daddy’s capable of - if he’s mean or if he wants to be playful…”

“Depends on how you act, sweetheart. Daddy’d love to just be playful, but if you don’t behave…”

He leaned in at that, rancid breath blowing in cold clouds along your skin as he chuckled to himself. Wondering what your reaction to his next words would be; if they would repulse you, or if you’d be hornier than ever.

Thankfully, he was already buried knuckle-deep in the best lie detector there was when it came to something like that.

“Daddy’s fucked dollies that were unwilling before. That fought and screamed and cried.”

Oh, he didn’t even touch on if he would kill you for not behaving or not. He was a vengeful spirit, of course he would. He knew that there was life after death, so dooming a toy to forever have to be fucked by him? Essentially creating his own undead sex slave? It’d be like heaven for him. honestly, it was kind of a wonder he hadn’t done it yet. Well, he did like it when they were warm, after all.

“But Daddy knows best.”

Your heart started to beat faster at that. You weren't scared - no… quite the opposite. Thrilled? You were playing with a powerful being now. One that could kill you in an instant but was deciding to indulge your dirty fantasies. Maybe he could sense what freaky shit you were into. The more likely thing was that he hadn’t had a proper fuck in awhile and now had a prime toy to test out.

Your cunt constricted around his fingers, being the dead giveaway that he needed that you were indeed a little freak.

“What does Daddy like best? When they cry or when they give in easily?” You watched him closely for a response, your teeth raking over your bottom lip. “I…”

You were very embarrassed at the next words that fell from your lips:

“Wanna make sure ‘m good enough for you and can keep up..”

Beetlejuice grinned at that. Because even if he did enjoy forcing himself upon people and watching as their will slowly drained away until they were nothing but pliant little fuckpuppets… He had to admit to being charmed by obedience. It was pretty rare that people actually begged for him. Most were disgusted by, well, all of him. The only good lays had been at Dante’s and those were paid for. Having a willing, breathing slut? Oh, that was priceless.

And so, he stroked your hair. Rewarding you for being so good for him so far. Good enough to make his cock throb and leak. Leak a nasty green, glowing ooze.

Ectoplasm. It wasn’t just something that the dead produced on their flesh when trying to scare the living. No, since their bodies technically couldn’t produce real cum, it made do with the closest thing it had.

“I like both. but you’re being such a good doll for Daddy. I'm thinking being willing’s gonna be the hottest thing you can do.”

You could see the bulge in his pants, your eyes widening like two full dinner plates. Eagerly, you wet your lips. His fingers were still curling and uncurling in you that you almost found it so unfair that you couldn’t see what he had in his pants. Your imagination was running wild! Was it a tentacle like the one groping your tits? Or maybe it was something even more peculiar? Dude was a straight up ghost! He could have anything.

Whatever it was, you were eager to have it be inside you.

So you sidled up closer to him and gently sat on his lap, not wanting to crush the poor poltergeist under you. You had no idea what his limitations as a now corporeal being really was so you played it safe.

Shyly, you fiddled with his tie and bit your lip, worrying the skin until it broke. How was one supposed to flirt with a ghost that was knuckle-deep in your pussy? God, he was so handsome…

“Good,” you murmured, mouth so dangerously close to his. “I wanna be good for you, Beej.”

[buffyisms]

BTVS Starters (s1-s3)

“ Mostly they're just gonna kill you." 

"Now this is not gonna be pretty. We're talking violence, strong language, adult content."

"I will still have time to fight the forces of evil, okay? I just wanna have a life, I wanna do something normal. Something safe."

"If the Apocalypse comes, beep me."

“Unto every generation is born one who must run the annual talentless show. You cannot escape your destiny."

"Y'know, I really felt sorry for you. You've suffered. But there's one thing I really didn't factor into all this. You're a thundering loony!"

"I may be dead, but I'm still pretty - which is more than I can say for you."

"You have fruit punch mouth."

"That way lies madness and sweaty palms."

"I laugh in the face of danger. Then I hide until it goes away."

"Forgiveness is my middle name! Well, actually it's LaVelle, and I'd appreciate it if you guard that secret with your life."

"Reading makes our speaking English good."

"Hello, salty goodness!"

"I can be surrounded by people and be completely alone. It’s not like any of them really know me.”

"By the way: I really like your dress."

"I know our ways are strange to you but soon you will join us in the twentieth century. With three whole years to spare!"

"I'm an old-fashioned gal. I was raised to believe that men dig up the corpses and women have the babies."

"Oh, I know this one! 'Slaying entails certain sacrifices, blah blah bliddy blah, I'm so stuffy, give me a scone.'"

"No, when you kiss me I wanna die."

"Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get."

"I am trying to save you! You are playing in some serious traffic here! Do you understand that? You're going to die!”

“and, my God, could you have a dorkier outfit?"

"My boyfriend had a bicentennial."

"I seem to be having a slight case of nudity here."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you ... for her ... when I had the chance. I wasn't ready. But I think I finally am."

"This is just what my reputation needs: that I did it with the entire swim team."

"Do-do you think I chose to be like this? Do you have any idea how lonely it is, how dangerous? I would love to be upstairs watching TV or gossiping about boys or... God, even studying! But I have to save the world. Again."

"I lost a friend tonight, and I may lose more, the whole Earth may be sucked into hell and you want my help 'cause your girlfriend's a big hoe! Well let me take this opportunity to not care."

"I'm probably the only girl in school with the coroner's office bookmarked in her favorite places."

"Goody! Research party."

"I knew it! I knew it! Well, not 'knew it' in the sense of having the slightest idea, but I knew there was something I didn't know.”

"I don't know what your problem is, what your issues are... but as of now, I officially don't care.”

"No, it's a statistical impossibility for a sixteen-year-old girl to unplug her phone."

"If you wanna be a member of the Scooby Gang, you gotta be willing to be inconvenienced every now and then."

"I'm 17. Looking at linoleum makes me wanna have sex."

"Whoa, whoa! I-I think I'm havin' a thought. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's a thought. Now I'm havin' a plan."

"Man.My whole life just flashed before my eyes! I gotta get me a life!"

"'Something weird is going on.' Isn't that our school motto?"

"You know, we've never really been that close, which is nice, cause I don't really like you that much."

"Tact is just not saying true stuff. I'll pass

"From now on, there's going to be a little less ritual and a little more fun around here!"

"You're supposed to kill her, not leave gag gifts in her friend's beds."

"It's a big rock. I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big."

"I wanted to say goodbye first. You are the one thing in this dimension I will miss."

"You have the sweetest smile I've ever seen."

"You walk out of this house right now, don’t even think about coming back."

"You talk about slaying like it's a job. It's not. It's who you are."

"Bottom line is, even if you see 'em coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really.”

“Oh, I just suck at undercover."

"She's not playing with a full deck. She has almost no deck. She has a three."

"I'm not coming back. We're not friends. We never were.”

“ What I want from you I can never have. You don't need me to take care of you anymore. So I'm gonna go.”

"Your logic does not resemble our Earth logic."

"World is what it is. We fight, we die. Wishing doesn't change that."

"Strong is fighting. It's hard and it's painful and it's every day. It's what we have to do, and we can do it together”

"What about me? I love you so much ... and I tried to make you go away .”

“I know everything that you did, because you did it to me. Oh, God! I wish that I wished you dead. I don't. I can't."

"My life happens on occasion to suck beyond the telling of it. Sometimes more than I can handle.”

"Fire bad. Tree pretty."

"Oh, I'm gonna be busy a lot. But, but only till 3:00, and that's when you usually get up."

"There will be no 'bottle in face', and there will be no having of any kind with me!"

"It's really nice that you guys missed me. Say, you all didn't happen to do a bunch of drugs, did ya?"

"I'm a blood-sucking fiend! Look at my outfit!"

"It's way too late. You know, it didn't have to be this way. But you made your choice.”

“ You were a Slayer and now you're nothing. You're just a big, selfish, worthless waste.”

"Generally speaking, when scary things get scared: not a good thing."

"I won't waste the perfect comeback on you, but don't think I don't have it. Oh, yes, its time will come."

"Demons after money. What ever happened to the still-beating heart of a virgin? No one has any standards anymore."

“ And you have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone.”

“ How many times have you been knocked out, anyway? I swear, one of these times, you're gonna wake up in a coma."

“ Love isn't brains, children, it's blood; blood screaming inside you to work its will.”

“ I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."

"I've got two words that are gonna make all the pain go away: Miniature. Golf."

"Raise your hand if you're invulnerable..."

“ Why couldn't you be dealing drugs like normal people?"

"Once again, the Hellmouth puts the "special" in "special occasion"."