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w-k-smith · 4 years ago

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Welcome to “Don’t Go to the Netherworld!” a Beetlejuice the Musical the Musical the Musical AU.

Beetlejuice - half-ghost, half-demon - has spent his entire afterlife in the Netherworld and works as the beleaguered assistant to Juno, his demonic bureaucrat mother. He thinks he’ll be stuck and miserable until doomsday, then a living girl breaks into the Netherworld in search of her dead mom. Beetlejuice promises to help Lydia Deetz, so long as she summons him to the living world once they’re done. Unfortunately, the best-laid plans of goths and ghosts often go downhill toward sandworms, dead boy bands, family drama, and worst of all, introspection.

It’s showtime!

Hey - feel free to check this out on AO3, where I’m w_k_smith. The original version of this post included links, but tumblr hides all my posts that have links in them, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

Chapter One: “It’s a Wonderful Afterlife” (6/19/20) Chapter Two: “Worm Welcome” (upcoming) Chapter Three: “Ghost to Ghost” (upcoming) Chapter Four: “To Beetle or not to Beetle?” (upcoming)

Warning: This story contains depictions of, references to, and discussion of topics like suicide, untimely death, abuse, and body horror - you know, like the musical does (though this probably has more). Know your boundaries, and stay safe.

First chapter under keep reading!

He was so relieved when the red alert exploded through the office, making every demon caseworker jump. He’d spent the past few hours cutting up the files Juno had given him into paper dolls, but even yards upon yards of multiheaded creatures got boring after a while. He magicked the dolls into running out of Juno’s office into the caseworker bullpen, and when that got no reaction, he’d made the dolls stand in crude positions and then cannibalize each other, but even that barely got a few snarls of “Get back to your own work, Beetlejuice.”

But red alerts were like fire alarms. Not only did they break up the day, but you also got to look at a fire.

“What asshole let the living person in?” he yelled, walking out of Juno’s office. He got his own too-small desk in a little reception area in front of her inner office. Officially, he was the Assistant to the Director of Netherworld Customs and Processing, but he was a glorified secretary. Most of his days were spent spinning his wheels or making the whiners who came to see Juno sit and wait until they gave up and went away.

He guessed his position as Juno’s half-demon assistant should have felt like a privilege, if he didn’t otherwise hate every aspect of the Netherworld. He got a desk and walls, while the full-demon caseworkers crammed their knife-fingers, pumpkin heads, flippers, and musty burlap bodies filled with bugs into an open-plan workspace. And the dead people who hung around had to make themselves busy wherever they found the space.

Right now everybody, demon and human alike, had scattered

“Out of the way, Beetlejuice!” the receptionist snapped, sprinting by in the high heels she’d died in, making them her only footwear from now until doomsday. She’d had another name once, but the MISS ARGENTINA sash across her torso had become a nametag a long time ago.

“Yeah, Miss A, better get to ’em before Juno does!” he said, yanking up his sagging pants.

“Care to help?” she snapped before rounding the corner.

He didn’t bother to respond. She’d asked knowing the answer would be “no.” Even if he thought it would make a difference, why should he? Sure, the living didn’t know crossing into the Netherworld meant they’d be chased down and probably killed by a screechy demon with a neck slit and horrible fashion sense. But hey. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

He didn’t see Juno around. Not yet, anyway. He was sure he’d hear her, once things went south for the trespasser.

Someone he didn’t recognize crept around the corner Miss Argentina hadn’t turned. The living girl stuck out like a raw steak at a vegan salad bar. Her face was flushed, and sweat glued her bangs to her forehead. Geez, he missed sweating. She walked without the weight of the underworld on her shoulders. And she was goth, with a dyed black bob, a black dress, and chunky black boots – very overdressed. Most of the recently deceased turned up in hospital gowns, sweatpants, Greek life t-shirts, or, best/worst, nothing at all. Few had the right combination of luck and irony to die in funeral garb.

He ducked behind a pillar in the bullpen before the living girl saw him. She licked her lips, looked left and right and left again, obviously no plan in mind…

And she ran into Juno’s office.

Oh. Oh oh oh this was just too good. Today was not going to be boring. Today might be his luckiest day of all.

He strode to Juno’s office door, walked through, and slammed it shut behind him.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asked the kid.

He was aware of the effect he had on living people…and a lot of dead people…and anyone and anything with even the memory of a digestive system. Today his hair was a dark green that verged on purple, his moss and stubble blended together nicely, and the caterpillar behind his right ear was busy spinning a cocoon.

The kid didn’t act freaked out or disgusted. She straightened her shoulders and said: “You have to hide me.”

He leaned against the door. “Do my ears deceive me?” He pulled his left ear out to arm’s length, and let it snap back like a rubber band. “Or is the girl running for her life making demands?”

“I came here for my mom. I can’t leave until I find her.”

“She isn’t here, Siouxsie Sioux. You’re the first living person who’s snuck in for the past decade.”

“My mom is dead. She died a few months ago. I have to find her, and bring her home. Well, to Connecticut, because my dad made us move to Connecticut, but then when he sees her, he’ll snap out of it, and we’ll go back to our actual home!” Desperation, denial. Maybe she was prepared to blend in with the newlydeads.

“Lemme get this straight – you, still alive and kicking, jumped into hell to find someone who has been dead for a while and bring them home with you? And you thought you could just do that? That this kind of violation of the natural order wasn’t going to rain down all kinds of shitfire and brimstone?”

“I knew there might be trouble.” She set her jaw. “I just didn’t care.”

He grinned. “Ah. Moxie. You’re pretty luck you decided to hide in my office.” He floated over his desk, crossed his legs, and pressed his fingers together. “I have a proposition. Quid pro quo, if you will.”

The kid gave him an extremely skeptical look. “You want me to make a deal with a demon?”

“Half demon, and what I’m asking for is a favor. Just a little, bitty thing.” He held his fingers a millimeter apart. “I’ll hide you. Keep the heat off. Distract the fuzz and frame your dog for eating your homework and tell the collection agents you aren’t home. And then, when you get back to the world of the living…you’ll say my name. Three times.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll…what?”

“It’ll summon me. So I can be a part of the living world! At least for a while. And not be stuck in this trash fire.” He grimaced. “No, that’s not fair. Sometimes trash fires are fun. I should know; I’ve set a lot of them.”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t know…”

“Beetlejuice!” came a familiar roar. “Get out here right now!”

“Under the desk!” he told the kid, jumping to his feet.

“Don’t talk to me like –!”

“UNDER THE DESK!” he roared, drawing himself up a few extra feet, and opening his mouth to show multiple rows of teeth.

That did the trick. The kid dove under the desk, and he was glad her dress was black, because it blended in with the shadows and the dark stone of the floor.

Juno opened the door a second later, smoke and steam trickling from her neck slit. Her beehive quivered. Per usual, her red skirtsuit hung off her like loose skin, and she was pushing the walker she didn’t need ahead of her.

“Lawrence Beetlejuice Shoggoth, do you have anything to do with this?” she growled.

“To do with what?” he asked. “The red alert? It sure brightened up my total lack of morning. I won’t name names, but someone in the bullpen jumped out their skin. Literally, the scales are still on the floor.”

A bony finger was extended his way. “I know about your little obsession with the living world. Why do you think I watch you so closely? You are one more misstep from being banished between life and death, how do ya like that? Do you want to spend eternity watching your precious breathers without anyone able to hear or see you?”

Ah. That old chestnut. “No, Ma,” he said, settling onto the floor.

“If I hear that this was your handiwork…”

“…My entrails will decorate the lobby. Yeah, yeah, heard it all before.”

She flicked her wrist, and knocked him over the desk. He tumbled head over heels, and landed on his face. It goddam hurt, because his mother could always hurt him. He made sure he hit the ground with a comical splat sound so the kid wouldn’t panic and give the game away. When he looked up, the girl’s eyes were wide and fearful.

“How about this?” He stood up, and brushed his sleeves off. “That red alert was because some dumbass living human came into the Netherworld, right? And I can tell you didn’t catch them, because there’s more steam coming out of you than usual. I’ll go looking for the human. I’ll prove to you I didn’t do it.”

She crossed her arms, and drummed her fingers on her elbows. “Hmm…when you put it that way…this would be an excellent way for you to demonstrate the potential for more responsibility, and – I DON’T CARE. Just stay out of the way.”

Coming from Juno, that was a sappy “I love you.” She stormed out of the office, and he waited until the rattling of her heels faded out of earshot before he bent down to check on the kid.

“You have to get the hell out of here,” he told the goth girl curled up under his desk.

“That was your mother?” she asked.

“She’s my boss, too. She’s a demon; she doesn’t get me. I’d take my considerable skills elsewhere, but, y’know, it’s toe the line or get wedged between life and death forever. How did a living twelve-year-old wind up in the Netherworld, anyway?”

“I’m fifteen!” she said, standing up. “And that’s none of your business.”

“It is so my business, if we’re going to get you to the land of the living so you can take me with you. What did you do? Black magic? Séance?”

“I, um…” She gave him a hard look before continuing. “I found a book.”

“A book? Really? Which book?” Most living world books wouldn’t tell you jack about the Netherworld. Concepts like limbo or the bardo came close, but…

“Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” the kid said.

For several seconds, all he could do was stare at her. Her expression became grossly fascinated.

“Your eyeballs are falling out of their sockets,” she said.

He shoved them back in, and shook his head to clear it. “How did you get the Handbook, kid?”

She crossed her arms. “My name is Lydia. And I found it.”

“Found it where?”

“Your sister’s sock drawer.” She glared at him. “Look, it doesn’t matter where I found it, but I found it, and the first chapter said you could get to the land of the dead by drawing a door and knocking three times. So I did that, and I tried to blend in by joining this line of dead people, but we went through a metal detector or something, and all these alarms started going off, so I ran.”

Her story had a gaping hole in it in the shape of the fact that she couldn’t have opened the Handbook unless she was recently deceased, which she wasn’t. A ghost had to have shown her the book and let her through the door, which was a big no-no. Obviously, she wasn’t going to give up her source.

He didn’t care. In fact, he was delighted that they were still teaching living teenagers that snitches got stitches.

“Fine,” he said. “I can get you back, but when you do –”

“I have to say your name three times?”

“You have to say my name three times.”

She sat on his desk. “Which name? That Juno lady called you a lot of things.”

And Juno had cursed him so he couldn’t say it. For the same reason people on house arrest couldn’t unlock their ankle bracelets.

“I’ve got a card somewhere,” he muttered. He reached into his jacket, and handed her the little business card.

“ ‘2nd Street Dermatology – You’ve Got Us Under Your Skin’?” she read.

“Wrong card!” He grabbed it back, and plunged his hands deep in his pants pockets. There was so much junk in the way. “Hold this,” he said, handing Lydia a skull, a xylophone, a planchette – “Here!”

He took his stuff back, and she read the card. “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice?”

He nodded.

“If I say this in the living world, it’ll bring you there?”

“In two shakes.”

“So you’re like a demon.”

“Half demon, half ghost.”

“Have you been here a long time?”

He nodded.

“Then you know how to find my mom!” she said. “You can be my guide! And as soon as we’re back in the living world, I promise I’ll say your name. And you won’t have to deal with your terrible mother ever again!”

It was a nice thought.

“You can’t get your mom,” he said. “That’s just a no-go.”

Her expression soured. “No-go with you, you mean,” she said. “You don’t really want to help me? Fine. I’ll manage by myself, I guess. That’s all I’ve been doing since my mom died, anyway.” She went for the door.

He scurried after her. “Lydia, wait! We can make a deal!”

Juno would kill her. That death wouldn’t be clean or fast. And then Juno could spend as long as she wanted punishing the newlydead girl for breaking the rules.

It wasn’t pleasant to discover there were still ideas that could make him want to vomit. Besides, if she went out by herself, he’d be losing his ticket to the living world. Another few centuries slogging around the office until the next stupid, lucky teenager came by. There was no point in not seeing this through as long as he could.

He forced a grin. “OK. I’ll be your guide.”

“You’ll help me find my mom?” she asked. “That’s really possible?”

“It’s really possible.”

It really wasn’t. He could try to argue with her, and eventually, she might listen and just go home. But if he was the one who burst her bubble, she’d be less inclined to do him a favor.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll help you find your mom. And I know exactly where to head. But first – we have to make you blend in.”

He smuggled the tiny goth out the back way, into the empty, rocky fields where the newlydeads lined up to head into the infinite Abyss that awaited them. No poor, unfortunate souls were hanging around just then, though you had to figure that people died about every second in the living room. He had given up trying to figure out the Netherworld’s relationship with time.

He made the tiny goth sit on a crag so they’d be eye-to-eye, and started rooting around his jacket for supplies. She looked skeptical, and he couldn’t blame her.

“How do I blend in?” Lydia asked.

“You have to look dead,” he said. “If you don’t go through the sensors – nice job, by the way, hopping right in the nearest line, very subtle – no one will automatically be able to tell you’re alive. But! If anyone gets within arm’s length, you’ll get caught. You have to stop flaunting your beating heart and functioning liver.”

“So I have to look recently deceased…” she said, and chewed on her bottom lip. “Should I put fake blood all over my face? Pretend I got poisoned?” She made a choking sound. “Maybe a noose?” She yanked one hand over her shoulder and let her head loll forward.

He tried not to flinch. She didn’t know that she’d just punched below the belt. Especially since he was wearing suspenders.

“Only newlydeads carry their wounds around,” he said. “That’s a good way to tell someone’s inexperienced. Have you seen the receptionist? She acts like she knows everything, but she’s still got those slit wrists, and the carbon monoxide skin.” He snorted. “Suicides.”

“I was going to jump off the roof of our new house,” Lydia said, very quietly. “Just yesterday. I wrote a note and everything.”

“Well, then, congratulations,” he said.

“For what?”

“For outdoing yourself. Running into hell wasn’t the dumbest idea you had this week. Have some grave dirt.” He tossed a handful of mud in her face.

She coughed, and tried to brush the dirt away, but just ended up smearing it across her forehead and cheeks. “What the HELL?”

“You have to make people believe you’ve been in the ground a long time. Get some of that under your fingernails, there you go. Now slouch!” he ordered. Her shoulders sagged. “Lower! Everything in your previous life is gone! No one cried at your funeral! Stoners are making out behind your head stone!”

“I’m deeeeead,” she said, stretching out the word and adding some vocal fry. She slid off the crag, and raised her arms like a zombie. Her eyes were half-closed. “Woe is me. How I long for one more breath.”

“Very nice.” He considered, then reached out and messed up her hair. “There. Dial it back by 30% and you’re golden.”

Her eyes lit up with a fervor only living teenagers had. “Does that mean we can go?”

“Yes. But you have to follow my lead, capeesh?”

“Capeesh,” she said, and he didn’t believe her.

He snapped his suspenders. “It’s showtime! Let’s go to Saturn!”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #lydia deetz

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sushigirlali · 6 years ago

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Some Like It Hot (Reylo Fanfic)

Happy @reyloveweek 2018!! 💙❤️

Day 5: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7

——————

Some Like It Hot

By: sushigirlali

——————

Ben Solo stared at the espresso machine in front of him blankly, thinking about a pair of pretty eyes instead of the task at hand. Good thing he could make a latte in his sleep at this point, having worked in his uncle’s cozy downtown café for the last three years.

Not that everyone was pleased the heir to Solo Shipping was content to work in the service industry, Ben thought wryly. He loved his parents, but after a disastrous trial run right out of college, Ben was reluctant to join the family business. Working at Luke’s had been a welcome alternative all those years ago, and he was in no hurry to go back.

Skillfully pouring just the right amount of milk into a metal pitcher before applying the steam wand, Ben’s mind slipped back to Rey Niima, a pretty sophomore at the local community college who had become a regular of the small coffee shop over the last six months.

He still remembered looking up from the cash register into her bright hazel eyes for the first time, her smile lighting up the dimly lit room. He had taken her order in a daze, barely able to keep his eyes off her, committing her elfin face to memory in the likely scenario that he would never see her again.

But then she had come back the next day, and then the one after that, drawing him deeper under her spell with each visit. He recalled thinking it wasn’t normal for him to feel this way about a girl he had just met, but as the weeks wore on, and he got to know more and more about her, Ben was forced to accept the fact that, for better or worse, he was completely infatuated with the mechanical engineering major from Jakku.

Not that he had acted on his feelings, however. Besides being a good ten years younger than him, Rey also had a boyfriend that often tagged along when she stopped by the café. Ben didn’t begrudge Finn his good fortune, the guy was just too damn likeable to hate, but he still wished Rey was single and as interested in him as he was in her.

Ben knew his terminal crush was pathetic for a guy his age, but even now, after months of fruitless pining, she was all he could think about, distracting him from his hobbies, friends, and a thousand other things he couldn’t seem to remember right—

“Shit!” He swore as steam rose over the brim of the pitcher he’d been handling, scalding his knuckles.

Oh, yeah. His job. She was distracting him from that too.

“Ben, pay attention!” Rose scolded him from the register. “Luke will be pissed if you break the machine again.”

“Sorry, Rose.” He muttered, quickly pouring the hot milk into a mocha and espresso filled paper cup before topping it with whipped cream and a plastic lid.

This was getting out of hand, Ben thought, trying to focus on what he was doing instead of the girl with the bewitching smile. But just as he placed the completed latte on the bar and called out the recipient’s name, Rey breezed through the door in a white crop top and denim cutoffs, and Ben was lost all over again.

“Hey, Rose? Can you work the line for a bit? I think I burned my hand pretty badly.” Ben said with a straight face.

Rose rolled her eyes as she followed his gaze, but she switched spots with him all the same. “You owe me one, Solo.”

——————

Rey dropped her bag at her favorite table before heading toward the register, trying not to look Ben up and down as she approached. Really, it should be a crime to look that good in a canary yellow apron!

“Hi, Ben!” She greeted warmly.

“Hello, Rey.” Ben replied, his deep voice never failing to send shivers up her spine. “How are you?”

“Doing well.” Rey smiled at the familiar question. Ben hated small talk as a rule, but he always inquired about her wellbeing before taking her order. “You?”

“Better now that my favorite customer is here.” Ben said amiably.

Rey chewed her lip as she processed his statement. Was he joking? Or was he flirting? Per usual, he was so cool and collected that it was hard to tell. She had to figure out a way to get him to open up, to give her some kind of hint about his true feelings and—

“No Finn today?” He probed when she didn’t respond.

“Oh, uh, he had to stay after class to speak with his professor, so he told me to go ahead.” Rey explained, snapping back to reality. “Why? Did you two have a date planned later or something?” She teased.

“What? No!” Ben denied. “I’m not into guys. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Just…I’m not, okay?”

“I was just kidding, Ben.” Rey laughed, downplaying her curiosity.

Rey had known Ben for almost six months, and had been pursuing him just as long, but she was running out of excuses for why he hadn’t responded in kind. She’d been starting to fear that he wasn’t attracted to women at all, but was relieved to know they were in the same ball park at least.

Ben cleared his throat. “So, the usual? Large, extra hot caramel macchiato with soy milk?”

“Just a coffee for me today, thanks, I’m trying to—Ben, what happened?!” Rey exclaimed as she noticed the red mark running across the pale skin of his knuckles.

“It’s nothing, I was just distracted while steaming some milk and…and…uh...” Ben trailed off as Rey took his large hand into hers, unable to resist the desire to comfort him.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything? A bandage? Or some ice?” Rey enquired softly.

Ben shook his head as she ran her thumb over the burn in a gentle caress. Her eyebrows shot up when he trembled slightly in response, a dull flush blooming across his high cheekbones. Rey wondered at the effect her touch seemed to have on him, and she felt the sudden urge to bring Ben’s knuckles to her lips, to sooth the small injury as much as to test his reaction, but a delicate cough broke the spell before she could give into the impulse.

Rey hastily pulled back as Rose looked everywhere but at them, while Ben’s hand hung between them for a moment before he came to his senses as well.

“I—um—what was it you wanted again, Rey?” Ben asked gruffly.

Just you, Rey thought, wishing they were alone.

“Just a medium coffee, please, with cream and two sugars.” She said out loud, her voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

“Coming right up.” He said, turning to face the dispenser on the back counter.

As Ben deftly poured coffee into a medium sized ceramic cup, Rey admired the way his tight black pants hugged his long legs. His considerable height had been the first thing she’d noticed about him, Rey recalled, thinking back to her first visit to Luke’s shop. Standing at least a head above everyone else in the room, Ben’s dark gaze had connected with hers the moment she had walked up to the register, drawing her like a moth to a flame.

Having never been in a serious relationship before, her instant attraction to the big man behind the counter had scared her, but by the time she’d left the café several hours later, Ben’s quiet intensity and respectful manner had compelled her to get to know him better.

She went back every day for a week straight after that, chatting and laughing—and occasionally arguing—with him until they were the closest of friends. But now, nearly half a year later, Rey wanted more; she wanted Ben Solo. And for the first time since realizing how much, she had hope that he wanted her too.

“Here you go.” Ben smiled as he turned around again, passing her the mug.

Determined to figure out whether his earlier reaction had been a fluke, or something more, Rey purposefully brushed her fingers against his as she accepted the cup. “Thank you, Ben.”

Rey caught her breath at the hungry look that flashed across his handsome face, delighting in the way his hands clenched at his sides, almost as if he was restraining himself from reaching out to her again. Definitely not a fluke then, she mused. Heady with success, Rey brought the rim of the mug to her lips, keeping eye contact with him as she took a few slow sips of coffee.

“Delicious.” She murmured in what she hoped was a seductive tone.

“Yeah, you—it—coffee—is.” He stammered.

The last vestige of Ben’s composure disintegrated as his eyes flickered to her lips, and she could tell he was imaging what it would be like to kiss her. Rey felt like dancing in the streets, but she kept her cool as she continued to playfully tease him.

“Would you mind heating it up a little more, though? You know I like it hot.” She couldn’t help but grin as Ben’s mouth fell open at her flirtatious request; he was so cute when he was flustered.

“Uh—sure, Rey, I’ll—oh shit!” Ben yelled as he miscalculated the distance between them, tipping the nearly full cup of coffee down the front of Rey’s white shirt. “Shit! Rey! I’m so sorry!”

Rey blinked as the warm beverage seeped into her once pristine top, spreading like a beige ink blot until the excess reached the hem and began dripping onto the floor. Well. No one ever said seduction was her forte.

——————

Ben watched as Rey trudged toward the restroom, holding a kitchen towel against the front of her soaked blouse, hoping she wasn’t too angry with him. He’d been so preoccupied by her blatant request—and blatant was the only word he could think of to describe her suggestive tone—that focusing on anything else, up to and including basic motor skills, was impossible.

Being in her presence was like standing next to the sun, and the impulse to reach out and touch her warm skin was almost too much to bare sometimes. But she had touched him today. Twice. And unless he was complete shit at reading signals, she had been flirting with him as well.

“What a mess.” Ben muttered as he set the empty cup on the counter.

“No kidding.” Rose deadpanned from his left.

Ben hastily turned to face her. “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it?” Rose replied, clearly trying not to laugh. “This isn’t a very big store, Ben, and you were swearing pretty loudly.”

“Oh my god.” Ben groaned, noting the curious glances being tossed his way from every customer in the place. “Don’t these people have better things to do?” He grumbled.

“Unlikely since most of them spend half their time here.” Rose snickered.

So not only had he made a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams, but the rest of his regulars had seen him crash and burn as well? Great. Just great.

“Ben, stop worrying, everything will be fine.” She reassured him. “Now go clean up your mess before the afternoon rush starts or there’ll be hell to pay!”

Ben sighed as he walked past Rose to round the counter, retrieving a mop and bucket from the storeroom along the way. Inspecting the area in front of the register, Ben belatedly realized there wasn’t actually much to clean up.

Most likely because the majority of the spill had ended up on Rey instead of on the floor, he thought drolly.

Still, it wouldn’t do to have customers traipsing through specks of sticky coffee, so Ben dipped the mop into the soapy bucket and quickly wiped up the rogue droplets. Wringing out the mop for second pass, Ben stopped short as Finn walked through the door.

Holy shit! Finn! How could he have completely forgotten about Rey’s boyfriend?! And here he was freaking out over a little spilled coffee…

“Hi, Ben!” Finn said cheerfully as he neared the counter.

“Uh—hey, Finn.” Ben responded hesitantly.

“Do you know where Rey is? I was supposed to meet her here after class, but she’s not at her table.” Finn nodded toward the back wall.

“She’s in the bathroom. There was a minor accident while we were…” Ben faltered, trying not to look guilty, “…talking and—”

“Ben threw a cup of coffee in her face because she was flirting with him so hard.” Rose broke in with a devious smile.

“Rose!” Ben balked. “Finn, it’s not—”

“No way!” Finn slapped Ben on the back. “I can’t believe she finally made a move on you!”

“Wh—what?” Ben choked, looking from Finn to Rose and back again.

“Ben, you don’t honestly think she comes here every day for the coffee, do you?” Rose prodded. “Nobody in their right mind would consume that much caffeine without good reason. Especially a girl that tiny!”

“You’re one to talk, short stuff.” Finn leaned over the counter, eyeing Rose speculatively. “Hey, Rose.”

“Hey, Finn.” She said coolly. “And short or not, I could still kick your ass.”

“No doubt.” Finn grinned before turning back to Ben. “What Rose is trying to say is that while Rey may be thirsty, she’s not here for the drinks.”

“Huh?” Ben said blankly, still not getting it.

“Oh, come on, seriously?” Shaking his head in disbelief, Finn went with a more direct approach. “She’s into you, bro.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Ben was incredulous.

“Well, I’ve never been a huge fan of Rey’s taste in guys,” Finn chuckled, “but she could do a lot worse than you.”

Finn’s easy manner shocked him. “But you’re Rey’s boyfriend, aren’t you? Why would you—”

“I’m Rey’s what?!” Finn shouted, drawing the eyes of everyone inside the small coffee shop. “You thought—all this time—oh my god!” His head fell back as he roared with laughter.

“Keep your voice down, idiot.” Rose reprimanded him as Ben flushed.

Ben turned to Rose. “Well, he is, isn’t he?” He demanded when Finn continued to snigger at him.

“No, dummy. Rey is Finn’s foster sister.” Rose informed him.

“What?!” Ben gaped at her.

“You should have realized by now that Rose is the only girl for me.” Finn wheezed, still catching his breath.

“Oh, shut up.” Rose returned at once, blushing when Finn winked at her.

“It’s rude to speak to your boyfriend that way.”

“You’re not my boyfriend!” She automatically corrected.

“Not yet.” Finn said cheekily.

Rose glared at him before focusing on Ben again. “So, is this why you’ve been ignoring Rey for the last six months?” She asked pointedly. “Because you thought she was in a relationship?”

“I haven’t been ignoring her!” Ben objected. “But they’re always together and hanging all over each other and well, I…” He fumbled for an excuse. “I just assumed—”

“That I was dating my little sister?” Finn playfully punched Ben in the arm.

“Hey! I didn’t know, okay!” Ben defended himself.

“Well now that you do, what are you going to do about it?” Rose put him on the spot.

Ben felt hunted, but it was a fair question. What was he going to do? Ben looked at Finn almost desperately. “Does she really like me? You’re not just messing with me?”

“Would I lie to you, Solo?” Finn ribbed.

“Finn!” Ben growled.

“Yeah, yeah, she likes you.” He relented. “A lot. So don’t fuck it up or you’re going to have to answer to me.”

“Oh, please, like you could take Ben in a fight.” Rose rolled her eyes.

“Hey! You take that back, pipsqueak!”

Zoning out as his friends bantered back and forth, Ben leaned against the counter for support. Rey was single? And she interested in him? How could he have been so blind? How could he have wasted so much time? He was smarter than this, dammit! …Wasn’t he?

“Ben!” Rose and Finn yelled to gain his attention.

“What?” He snapped before catching himself. Finn and Rose weren’t to blame for his stupidity. “Sorry. What is it?”

“Why are you still standing here? Go after her!” Rose said.

“And say what? I can’t just barge in on her!”

Rose held up a finger and disappeared into the storage room for a moment, returning with a folded black polo.

“What’s this?” Ben questioned as she handed it to him.

“A reason for you to go ‘barge in on her.’” She said amusedly. “It’s my extra uniform polo. You spilled coffee on the shirt she was wearing, so she’ll need something to change into.”

“Oh. Oh! Thanks, Rose!” Ben said gratefully, shedding his apron and running a hand through his shaggy hair. “How do I look?”

“Ready.” Rose said encouragingly.

“God speed, my friend.” Finn saluted him.

Ben grinned at their antics, realizing for the first time just how lucky he was to have friends like them in his corner. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the room and wrapped on the bathroom door. He could do this.

——————

Rey tossed her damp shirt into the trash, finally admitting after ten minutes of fruitless scrubbing that hand soap was not a viable alternative to laundry detergent. Despite her best efforts, the stubborn brown coffee stains refused to budge, leaving her crop top just as splotchy as it had been when she entered the bathroom.

Staring down at her ruined shirt bemusedly, Rey wondered if she could make it to her car in just her bra and shorts without attracting too much attention. But as she turned to consider her appearance in the mirror above the sink, Rey frowned at her disheveled state.

“Yeah, scratch that.” Rey grumbled at her reflection, noting the spots where coffee had bled through her white shirt onto her equally white bra. “I can’t let Ben see me like this.”

The minimal amount of makeup she wore was smudged, her hair was falling out of the hastily composed bun she had piled it into this morning, and her sun kissed skin was streaked with the sticky remnants of her afternoon pick-me-up. She wasn’t anyone’s idea of a hot date at the moment, Rey thought ruefully.

Unfastening the elastic tie holding her hair back, Rey’s sable locks flowed down to her shoulders. As she ran her slim fingers through the wavy mess, trying to put some sort of order to it, a brisk knock suddenly sounded behind her.

“Hey, Rey?” A muffled male voice called through the door.

Assuming Finn had finally arrived, Rey went to the door and cracked it open.

“Finn, did Rose tell you what happened? Can you run home and get me a—Ben!” Rey gaped up at her longtime crush in shock. Ben, not Finn, was standing in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

Rey cringed as soon as the stupid question left her mouth. What was he doing here? He worked here! And since she’d been monopolizing the café’s only restroom for the last 15 minutes, he’d probably come to kick her out!

“Oh, I—I just wanted to check on you.” Ben said hoarsely as he noticed her state of undress. “And to give you this.” He held out a fresh shirt.

“Thank you.” She said appreciatively, accepting the garment.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “So, uh, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Rey replied quickly. If by fine she meant embarrassed and overwrought and so freaking in love with him, then yeah. She was fine. “How are you? Is your hand feeling better?”

“Much better.” He murmured, regarding her through hooded eyes.

Rey struggled to keep her breathing normal as his dark gaze slid over her bare skin like a caress. Her breasts swelled as he looked his fill, her nipples straining against the flimsy cups of her bra. She briefly considered crossing her arms over her chest to hide her reaction, or pulling the clean polo over her head, but she wanted him to look at her. To touch her.

“Would you like to come in?” She asked, unable to control the tempting tone of her voice.

“Yes.” Ben said honestly. “But I’m afraid of what will happen if I do.”

“Afraid?” Rey whispered uncertainly. “Why?”

“You’re so…” He swallowed.

“What?” She tensed, self-consciously patting down her hair again.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Rey.” Ben admitted roughly. “But you’re also young, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Rey’s heart hammered at his confession. “Ben, I’m old enough to handle myself. If I felt uncomfortable being alone with you, I would tell you.” She assured him, holding out her free hand. “Please, come inside. I trust you.”

Ben only hesitated a beat before reaching out for her. “Okay, Rey. If you’re sure.”

The first touch of their fingers was like a shock to her system, but Rey was determined to keep her cool; there were a few things they needed to discuss before she could fall apart in his arms.

“Lock the door.” Rey said softly as she pulled him inside the room.

The bathroom had seemed spacious only moments ago, but with Ben’s big body occupying the same space, his large hand dwarfing hers, Rey suddenly felt short of breath. From his height to his wide chest to his full mouth, everything about Ben Solo overwhelmed her.

“I’m sorry for ruining your shirt.” Ben said gruffly, eyeing the garbage can behind her.

“Oh, it’s okay. I didn’t really like it that much, anyway.” Rey said facetiously.

“So, I did you a favor then.” Ben chucked.

“Sure, if that makes you feel better.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “If only cleaning out the rest of my closet was this easy.”

“Feel free to invite me over to spill coffee on your clothes anytime.” Ben laughed. “You know I’d do anything for you, Rey.”

“Anything?” Rey teased, seeing an opening and taking it.

“Of course.” He said seriously.

“How about having dinner with me tonight, then?” Rey suggested boldly. “At that new Italian place down the street?”

She bit her lip as Ben stared down at her in surprise, praying that she hadn’t misread his behavior, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

“Rey, are you asking me out on a date?” Ben said slowly, looking so hopeful that all of her fears instantly subsided.

Rey tugged him closer, dropping the borrowed polo on the floor as she linked her arms around his neck. “What do you think?” She smiled tenderly, reaching up to press her lips against his.

Ben returned her ardor with a harsh groan, sliding his arms around her slim waist and practically lifting her off the floor as he kissed her back. His lips were wide and pillow soft, gentle yet hungry, fulfilling every one of her girlish fantasies all in one prefect moment.

Rey pressed her forehead against his as they parted to catch their breath.

“Is that a yes, then?” Rey panted.

“Fuck yes!” Ben rumbled, his large hands skating up and down her bare back.

Rey arched into his touch, laughing at his earnest answer.

“I’ve wanted to ask you out forever, you know.” Ben revealed, leisurely trailing his lips across her face.

“Why didn’t you then?” Rey complained, clenching her hands in his dark hair. “I’ve been dying thinking you didn’t want me!”

“It’s stupid in retrospect, considering how Finn acts around Rose, but I thought he was your boyfriend.” Ben admitted sheepishly.

Rey pulled back incredulously. “Finn? My brother, Finn?”

“Yeah.” He said dryly. “Even after all the conversations we’ve had, you never mentioned that Finn was your brother. So, I just kind of assumed…”

“Oh, Ben.” She sighed dramatically. “I love you, but that’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. You could’ve just asked if I had a boyfriend.”

“I’m an idiot, I know, but—” Ben’s eyes shot to hers. “You—what? What did you say?”

“Hmm, you’re paying attention now, aren’t you? Or did you really think I only came here for the coffee?” She purred, pulling him into another drugging kiss.

Rey felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest as Ben slanted his mouth over hers fiercely in response, whispering those three little words back to her between kisses. Nothing had ever felt so right, Rey thought dreamily. But just as Ben reached for the snap of her bra and Rey started pulling his shirt up, someone hammered hard on the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you two done in there? Rose is drowning in customers!” Finn yelled.

Shocked by the interruption, Ben and Rey turned as one to stare at the door.

“Um—uh—” Rey stammered.

“Those aren’t words, Rey.” Finn called back.

“Oh, shut up! We’ll be right out!” Rey shouted, blushing to the roots of her dark brown hair. Picking up the polo she’d tossed aside earlier, Rey quickly pulled it over her head.

“Okay, but be warned! You’ve got about thirty seconds before Rose marches over here with the master key!” Finn joked.

Ben pushed her hair back from her face as she straightened her clothing, smiling despite the embarrassing situation.

“What?” Rey inquired coyly.

He skimmed his fingers down her arm to grasp her hand. “Nothing, I’m just happy.”

“Me too.” Rey beamed. “Ready to go back to work now?”

“Not really.” Ben said wryly. “It’s going to be hard to concentrate knowing we’re going on a date in a few hours.”

“You sap.” She giggled, pulling him toward the exit. “Now try not to spill any more drinks on unsuspecting customers. Not everyone will reward you with a kiss afterward.”

“Honey, my coffee slinging days are over.” He promised as he opened the door for her. “You’re all the reward I’ll never need.”

-FIN-

#reyloveweek #reyloveweek2018 #reylo fanfic #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #coffee shop au #my fanfiction #sushigirlali #some like it hot #rated t+#maybe m #whatever lol #this got really long #i was up way too late editing this #help

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ladyanatui · 5 years ago

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The Seduction of Motomiya Daisuke, Ch. 8 *A Daiken Fic*

Daisuke’s friendship with Ken has always come easily. It’s the lusting after your best friend part that’s hard.

He just didn’t realize how hard until Ken starts acting weird.

Now, Daisuke isn’t sure how long he can handle his BFF and roommate’s sudden attentions. At least, not without potentially ruining a 12-year friendship.

AO3 | FF.Net

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

DAISUKE

Saturday, 1 p.m.

By the time we reach the park, Ken doesn't look any more pleased with the idea than the moment when, after we put away the groceries, I chucked the soccer ball at his head and he barely managed to catch it before it smacked him in the face. He argued, he complained, he cajoled, and yes, he had a point—it did rain most of the train ride home, though the rain stopped before we had to walk through it—but I didn't relent.

"When has a little rain ever been a problem?" I asked him. "Are you afraid of getting a tiny bit muddy? Are you that much of a clean freak, Ichijouji?"

I wasn't surprised when he bristled. "Not afraid." But then he paused and admitted quietly, "I'm out of practice, though."

Which is all too true, and perhaps a large reason I want to play a little one-vee-one.

We played against each other from that first all-important match in fifth grade till high school graduation, and winning against Tamachi was rare. In a one-vee-one against Ichijouji Ken, Tamachi's number one striker? Nearly impossible.

But he hasn't played since high school, aside from an occasional casual match—not even once a month.

I at least play a weekly game with a few guys, though it's laid-back and most of them aren't enough competition. I at least have some practice still.

Hell, if there's even a tiny chance I can kick his ass, I'm gonna take it.

So no, I didn't relent, no matter how much he complained.

And I won't relent now that we're here either.

"It's called muscle memory, Ichijouji," I say as I pause at the edge of the pitch beside him.

His mouth tightens into a scowl, but he doesn't look at me. "Just because you play a casual game every week doesn't mean you'll manage to beat me."

I cock an eyebrow. "Care to put that to the test then?"

Ken smirks, finally meeting my eyes. "And what do I get when I win, Motomiya?"

Excellent.

"Depends." I toss the ball up in the air and catch it with one hand. "What do you want?"

His blue-violet eyes study me carefully while determining his response, and he settles on a cool but dangerous sort of confidence. "You'll find out when I win."

I scoff, but I'm practically buzzing with energy. "Well, I already know exactly what I want when I win, and I'm not telling you till I do."

This kind of tension is exactly what I live for. I thrive on it.

Most of the time, Ken retreats into himself, hiding away from the world, especially around people he doesn't know well. He's decent with the other Chosen now—talks to them more openly, smiles and laughs more often—but no one else draws out this Ken like I do.

This Ken is confident, competitive, even eager. He's cool and collected and smug, he's occasionally cruel but in a good-natured way, and he likes to win. Honestly, this Ken sometimes frightens me. He gets my blood boiling, my heart thumping at full force, sends some positively perverse thoughts through my head. He's the Ken most reflective of his Kaiser persona, but it's not the same, he's not the same. Because unlike the Kaiser, he has a warm, hearty laugh, he cracks jokes, he teases, and through it all, he remains the kind, pensive, intelligent, sweet Ken he always is.

"I guess we have no choice then," he says, flippant, and begins a determined march toward the center of the field.

My eyes gravitate toward his perfect ass as he stalks across the soggy grass. He's wearing his high school soccer uniform—it is the most appropriate attire for the occasion, and it's tight enough not to get in the way. It's honestly impressive the thing still fits him after five years. But it's not like he's gained weight—only grown a few more centimeters.

Okay.

Subconsciously, I may have suggested this because I wanted to see Ken in uniform again.

Fucking worth it.

And here's hoping I don't get too distracted by the spectacular view. Because I want to win.

I have plans for if I win, dammit.

He walks with the confidence that I'll follow, and he's right about that. But I would follow Ken anywhere.

Before I'm even halfway across the pitch, he's at the center, and he begins his typical warm-up routine: hip flexors, calf stretch, quad stretch, heel stretch, and a few modified versions of his normal stretches to avoid sitting on the muddy ground.

I stumble to a stop the moment he slowly bends over, one ankle crossed over the other, arms down, hands flattening on the wet grass in front of his feet. Because the view of his pert ass couldn't possibly be better. And dear god, that flexibility could be put to some good use under more intimate circumstances.

Yeah, I'm fucked.

I force my feet to move again, slowly approaching, and drop the ball on the ground when I reach him.

Ken throws a terse glance my way as he hooks an arm behind his head in a simple shoulder stretch. "You ready to get your ass handed to you, Motomiya?"

I spend half a second more staring at him.

But it's time to get my head in gear or I'm going to lose. And losing isn't an option today. I want to implement my plan tonight, and winning this match may be exactly what I need to get the ball rolling.

"Don't get too cocky, Ichijouji," I snap and begin to do a few stretches of my own. "I won't let you win so easily."

Of course, that also requires me to pretend I'm not deathly curious what would happen if he won, what he wants from me.

He smiles. "You never make anything easy."

I frown, not quite sure what he means, but he starts doing a round of jumping jacks before I can even consider whether I should ask. And then I'm staring again.

No.

I won't let him distract or confuse me, dammit.

Once we're both properly warmed up, we decide victory goes to the first to score five goals, and per usual, Ken devotes himself wholly to the task at hand.

He snags the ball immediately, and I rush to keep up with him. His long legs and low mass make him fast, but he's not the same kid running circles around my entire team anymore.

In high school, we were much more evenly matched—partially because no one knew better than me how to anticipate Ken's thoughts and moves. If we'd played on a team together, we would've been in complete sync, able to predict each other and play off of the other's strengths. But as opponents…well, I'm pretty sure our coaches thought we spent too much time trying to outdo each other than actually win the game.

He scores the first goal, but I get the ball next, dribbling it toward the opposite goal. This time, he chases me. By the time he scores a second shot, I've managed three goals.

A proud grin spreads across my mouth when we meet at the center again, but Ken's eyes narrow in a way that's strikingly familiar.

In a way that makes me fear for my life.

And my sanity.

Grass stains and little flecks of mud spread up his body, primarily on his shoes and shins, but there's even the occasional streak on his arm.

I gulp.

Mud has never looked so damn attractive.

He snatches the ball immediately and, to no one's surprise, levels the playing field with another score before I can do anything but follow in his wake.

Dammit.

Five years since he's played a competitive soccer game, and he's still this fucking good. Muscle memory is part of it—he did play for over a decade—but honestly, I attribute it to what I call Ken Magic. Even without the Dark Seed, Ken remains the most intelligent and talented person I know.

Koushiro-san, ever the logical one, insists that's technically incorrect. That while, yes, Ken is very intelligent and skilled, his IQ isn't what it was as the Kaiser. That I'm biased because Ken is so important to me.

True or not—and I guess Koushiro-san is generally trustworthy on these matters—I don't care.

Ken is smart, kind, patient, ambitious, talented at everything, and absolutely beautiful. Of course I'm biased. How could I not be biased? He's practically perfect, no matter how dark his past is or how much it still bothers him, and I have no problems explaining that to anyone.

But I have serious problems with him winning this match.

"I thought you were going to make this a challenge, Motomiya," he says when we meet at centerfield again.

I shrug. "Alright, I gave you that last one. You looked pretty upset." And you know, I was too busy ogling him to focus. "Besides, I like the challenge of whooping your ass when the score is this close."

He glares, but it gets my point across. "Don't you dare let me win out of pity, Motomiya." His voice is dangerously low.

"I wouldn't dare. I want this too much."

Plus, I'm fairly certain he would murder me if he ever legitimately believed I took it easy on him.

We each only have two points left to win, but I'm not so sure of my victory now. Still, this is a better shot at beating Ken in a one-vee-one than I've ever had before, and I managed to beat him a few times during his prime.

Besides, what better way to interrogate him about the last thirty-six hours than to do it under the pretense of a bet? If I win this, I intend to launch a full investigation into his recent behavior, into his...potential feelings.

Not that he needs to know that.

He takes the ball, but I dart around him and kick it in the opposite direction, right between his legs. He stumbles and we collide not even a second later, all hands and legs and feet and mud and sweat.

Ken lands on top of me, blue-violet eyes staring into my soul. My breath catches at our close proximity. Heat rises to my cheeks. And he…

He slips off easily before running after the ball.

It takes a moment to collect myself, mostly because my back is now coated in grass and mud. And stupid Ken didn't fare nearly so bad—he has a couple muddle, scraped knees and shins for his fall.

By the time I chase after him, he's scored his fourth goal.

Shit.

This is going to be closer than I thought.

But I always perform better when the chips are down. I need to score twice before letting him get a final goal.

And under the circumstances, I don't mind playing a little dirty.

We start again at centerfield, and this time, I hesitate just long enough for him to dribble the ball to the side to pass me. I spin with him so we're side to side, then trace a finger down his spine—Ken staggers, and I kick the ball with my heel, sending is flying between us and toward my goal.

I dart after it before he has a chance to turn around—or worse, retaliate.

Once I'm close enough, Ken on my heels, a quick instep kick is all it takes to level the score again.

One goal away.

"You cheated," he snaps as we march back to centerfield.

I laugh. "It's not like I tripped you or even pulled your shirt, Ichijouji. No ref would've called me on that."

He shoots a glare my way. "I don't care if a referee would've let is slide. You used your knowledge of my body against me. That's cheating."

I splutter, nearly dropping the ball.

My knowledge of his body?

Okay, I mean, that's technically accurate. But does he really have to say it like that when all he means is that I know how sensitive and ticklish he is and where?

"Come on, Motomiya!" He's five paces ahead, and I scurry to catch up as he snarls, "Next person to score wins, and then I get the bathroom first."

I scowl. "You're going to make me sit in a muddy mess while you take a nice long bath, aren't you?"

"You better not make a mess anywhere while you wait." We reach the center, and he turns to glare at me. "Let's get this over with already."

With the final ball, Ken is in full-on general mode, nudging and cutting the ball across the pitch diagonally, but I run down the center line to cut him off. I dive close when he reaches midfield, and he tries to evade me with an elastico, but I don't let him shake me off. Determination in his eyes, he glances toward the center and the goal, plotting his next move.

It's a feint.

When he kicks the ball again, it's a scoop turn to send the ball to the left instead, and I'm ready for him, slicing across the space to nudge it back to the right and under my control. He twists to reach me, but I nudge the ball behind me and away from him before darting back, nudging it into the air, and sending it arcing over and around him toward my goal.

Ken releases a low growl, and he's on my heels the moment I catch up to the ball, dribbling it down the field. He drives me toward the edge, cornering me in an attempt to steal the ball back, but I'm not going to let him beat me this time.

I catch the ball with one foot, sliding it to the other with a swift one-eighty spin, then pull the ball with me. Leaving me with enough space to shoot the ball with an instep kick, driving it right into the side netting.

Then, I stumble and fall, body pushed to the ground with a face full of wet grass.

Panting—and practically growling—Ken sits atop my lower back, hands holding my shoulders down. But he doesn't say anything.

I manage to push up enough to breath more than just mud and grass, and once I catch my breath, I try to turn to him. "Something wrong, Ichijouji?" Still can't see more than a scraped and muddy leg.

"Okay, fine, you won." He leans close to my ear, irritation lacing his voice. "What do you want from me?"

The words send a chill down my spine.

Everything.

I want everything from Ken.

But that's not what he means.

I pull my knee up and push off with my center, sending him flying to the ground, flat on his back. I collapse beside him with a deep sigh, eyes staring up at the overcast sky. "Don't you worry about a thing, Ichijouji. You'll find out tonight."

#daiken #digimon #digimon 02 #daisuke motomiya #ken ichijouji #fanfiction #digimon fanfiction #digi fic #seduction of motomiya daisuke #my fanfiction #anatui #anatui writes

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w-k-smith · 4 years ago

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Welcome to “Don’t Go to the Netherworld!” a Beetlejuice the Musical the Musical the Musical AU.

It’s showtime!

First chapter under keep reading!

But red alerts were like fire alarms. Not only did they break up the day, but you also got to look at a fire.

Right now everybody, demon and human alike, had scattered

“Yeah, Miss A, better get to ’em before Juno does!” he said, yanking up his sagging pants.

“Care to help?” she snapped before rounding the corner.

He didn’t see Juno around. Not yet, anyway. He was sure he’d hear her, once things went south for the trespasser.

He ducked behind a pillar in the bullpen before the living girl saw him. She licked her lips, looked left and right and left again, obviously no plan in mind…

And she ran into Juno’s office.

Oh. Oh oh oh this was just too good. Today was not going to be boring. Today might be his luckiest day of all.

He strode to Juno’s office door, walked through, and slammed it shut behind him.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asked the kid.

The kid didn’t act freaked out or disgusted. She straightened her shoulders and said: “You have to hide me.”

“I came here for my mom. I can’t leave until I find her.”

“She isn’t here, Siouxsie Sioux. You’re the first living person who’s snuck in for the past decade.”

“I knew there might be trouble.” She set her jaw. “I just didn’t care.”

The kid gave him an extremely skeptical look. “You want me to make a deal with a demon?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll…what?”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t know…”

“Beetlejuice!” came a familiar roar. “Get out here right now!”

“Under the desk!” he told the kid, jumping to his feet.

“Don’t talk to me like –!”

“UNDER THE DESK!” he roared, drawing himself up a few extra feet, and opening his mouth to show multiple rows of teeth.

That did the trick. The kid dove under the desk, and he was glad her dress was black, because it blended in with the shadows and the dark stone of the floor.

“Lawrence Beetlejuice Shoggoth, do you have anything to do with this?” she growled.

Ah. That old chestnut. “No, Ma,” he said, settling onto the floor.

“If I hear that this was your handiwork…”

“…My entrails will decorate the lobby. Yeah, yeah, heard it all before.”

Coming from Juno, that was a sappy “I love you.” She stormed out of the office, and he waited until the rattling of her heels faded out of earshot before he bent down to check on the kid.

“You have to get the hell out of here,” he told the goth girl curled up under his desk.

“That was your mother?” she asked.

“I’m fifteen!” she said, standing up. “And that’s none of your business.”

“It is so my business, if we’re going to get you to the land of the living so you can take me with you. What did you do? Black magic? Séance?”

“I, um…” She gave him a hard look before continuing. “I found a book.”

“A book? Really? Which book?” Most living world books wouldn’t tell you jack about the Netherworld. Concepts like limbo or the bardo came close, but…

“Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” the kid said.

For several seconds, all he could do was stare at her. Her expression became grossly fascinated.

“Your eyeballs are falling out of their sockets,” she said.

He shoved them back in, and shook his head to clear it. “How did you get the Handbook, kid?”

She crossed her arms. “My name is Lydia. And I found it.”

“Found it where?”

He didn’t care. In fact, he was delighted that they were still teaching living teenagers that snitches got stitches.

“Fine,” he said. “I can get you back, but when you do –”

“I have to say your name three times?”

“You have to say my name three times.”

She sat on his desk. “Which name? That Juno lady called you a lot of things.”

And Juno had cursed him so he couldn’t say it. For the same reason people on house arrest couldn’t unlock their ankle bracelets.

“I’ve got a card somewhere,” he muttered. He reached into his jacket, and handed her the little business card.

“ ‘2nd Street Dermatology – You’ve Got Us Under Your Skin’?” she read.

He took his stuff back, and she read the card. “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice?”

He nodded.

“If I say this in the living world, it’ll bring you there?”

“In two shakes.”

“So you’re like a demon.”

“Half demon, half ghost.”

“Have you been here a long time?”

He nodded.

It was a nice thought.

“You can’t get your mom,” he said. “That’s just a no-go.”

He scurried after her. “Lydia, wait! We can make a deal!”

Juno would kill her. That death wouldn’t be clean or fast. And then Juno could spend as long as she wanted punishing the newlydead girl for breaking the rules.

He forced a grin. “OK. I’ll be your guide.”

“You’ll help me find my mom?” she asked. “That’s really possible?”

“It’s really possible.”

It really wasn’t. He could try to argue with her, and eventually, she might listen and just go home. But if he was the one who burst her bubble, she’d be less inclined to do him a favor.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll help you find your mom. And I know exactly where to head. But first – we have to make you blend in.”

He made the tiny goth sit on a crag so they’d be eye-to-eye, and started rooting around his jacket for supplies. She looked skeptical, and he couldn’t blame her.

“How do I blend in?” Lydia asked.

He tried not to flinch. She didn’t know that she’d just punched below the belt. Especially since he was wearing suspenders.

“I was going to jump off the roof of our new house,” Lydia said, very quietly. “Just yesterday. I wrote a note and everything.”

“Well, then, congratulations,” he said.

“For what?”

“For outdoing yourself. Running into hell wasn’t the dumbest idea you had this week. Have some grave dirt.” He tossed a handful of mud in her face.

She coughed, and tried to brush the dirt away, but just ended up smearing it across her forehead and cheeks. “What the HELL?”

“Very nice.” He considered, then reached out and messed up her hair. “There. Dial it back by 30% and you’re golden.”

Her eyes lit up with a fervor only living teenagers had. “Does that mean we can go?”

“Yes. But you have to follow my lead, capeesh?”

“Capeesh,” she said, and he didn’t believe her.

He snapped his suspenders. “It’s showtime! Let’s go to Saturn!”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #lydia deetz #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth

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