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fanfic-she-wrote · 2 months ago

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Second Chances

Beetlejuice x Lydia Deetz

Chapter 1 link

(Some swearing and spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice ⚠️)

Chapter 5

Down in the Netherworld a woman in black with stitch’s all along her face and body sat in the waiting room, her long nails tapping on the arm of the chair with a menacing look in her eyes that made all the other souls cower in fear around her.

As punishment for her crimes her mouth was sewn shut so that she couldn’t steal another soul. But that didn’t stop her. She knew what she had to do and tonight she would be free from the Netherworld, free to finally get rid of Betelgeuse once and for all.

She had heard rumors of a seance being held in Winter River where she last saw Betelgeuse between a group of teenagers in a the local cemetery. Tonight they would actually summon a ghost only they’ll wish they never did.

—————————

Astrid headed up the stairs towards Betelgeuse’s room with the handbook tucked under her arm. She was going to tell him everything. She took a deep breath and knocked on his door, hoping he was there. There was a long moment of silence. She stared at the door worried that perhaps he went back to the Netherworld. She knocked once more and waited, this time she heard his voice answer from inside. “Yeah?”

“It’s me, Astrid.” She told him. She heard footsteps slowly approach her from the other side of the door and then watched as the knob turned, and the door opened to reveal Betelgeuse standing there. He had taken his jacket off and discarded it on a chair and his tie was half undone. “Can I come in?” She asked with a faint smile.

He stepped aside. “Sure.”

She hadn’t been inside his room yet and she wasn’t sure what it would be like. It was surprisingly cleaner than she expected except for paper strewn about his desk and the fact that his bed was unmade. He pulled out a chair for her and then sat himself down on the bed beside it.

“I’m sorry about how my mom acted at dinner.” She apologized. Betelgeuse remained silent. She didn’t like that. It wasn’t like him at all.

“I think I know why.” She continued, opening the book and flipping to the page about true love’s kiss. “It’s because of this.” She handed him the book and waited to see his response. He quickly glanced down at the book, reading the passage she was referring to, and then back up at Astrid.

“Why do you think she’s your true love?” Astrid asked curiously. Betelgeuse sighed, closing the book and tossing it on the bed.

“I don’t know. Just a feeling I get. I know what you’re thinking, it’s not lust or anything like that…well maybe a little.” He began. Astrid shook her head at that thought, not wanting to think about Betelgeuse lusting after her mother.

“This might sound crazy but even though my heart has long been dead, when I’m around her it feels like it’s beating again.” He admitted. Astrid’s expression softened. All doubts finally put to rest about his feelings for Lydia.

“Ugh! Did I say that?!” He gagged realizing what he just said, disgusted with himself that he could possibly say something so corny.

“Yes, yes you did.” She confirmed. “And maybe you should tell her that.”

“Tell me what?”

————————

Night had fallen over the quant little New England town as a group of teenagers gathered in the local cemetery to perform their much anticipated seance.

“Got the board Samantha?” One of the teens asked.

“Duh!” The other answered, pulling off her backpack, unzipping it, and pulling out the ouija board and planchette then placing it on a nearby tombstone.

“Awesome! Never done a seance before. Think it’ll work?” Another girl asked sitting down beside the board, the other teens following suit.

“We’re in a cemetery it’s gotta work.” The first girl answered.

“You think we should have asked Astrid to join us? Maybe she could help us.” The girl named Samantha wondered out loud, placing the planchette upon the board.

“Nah! We don’t need her. She’s got enough with her freak of a mother.” One of the teens remarked putting her index finger on the planchette. One by one each girl placed their finger on the planchette, leading it to the word hello inscribed in the corner.

“Are there any spirits present?” Samantha asked looking at the board, waiting eagerly for a response from the other side.

“HERE” The planchette spelled out.

“Oh my god!” One of the girls gasped.

“What is your name?”

“DELORES”

“How did you die?”

“AXE”

One of the girls flinched. “That’s horrible!” She declared. Before they could ask another question the planchette moved on its own.

“YOURE NEXT”

“Ok I think maybe we should stop now. I don’t like this.” The other girls nodded in agreement, but before they could end the session the planchette started spinning in circles around the center of the board. They all watched in horror as each of the letters lit up turning a bright shade of green illuminating the cemetery around them making the tombstones cast eerie shadows across the ground.

Then there was a loud crack that pierced through the night as the ouija board exploded sending shards of wood and marble flying in all directions. They all screamed and covered their heads in terror. Then there was silence. Slowly, they looked up to see a woman standing there her black dress flowing in the winter breeze.

She looked down at the group of girls huddled together on the ground amused by the horrified expressions on their faces.

She strode towards one of them and picked her up by her coat, pulling her towards her. She could practically taste the young girl’s soul. That’s when Delores realized her mouth was still sewn shut. She dropped the girl, letting her fall to the ground with a thud and looked around for something to free her lips, something sharp. Her eyes fell upon a piece of jagged marble on the ground at her feet. It would have to do. She picked it up and carefully cut away at the stitches one by one till finally she was free.

“Ah, that’s better.” She sighed, tossing the marble aside and turning back to the girls.

“Where is Betelgeuse?” She asked them.

“Who’s Betelgeuse?” Samantha asked.

“We don’t know any Betelgeuses!” Another chimed in, her voice trembling.

“That’s too bad.” Delores spoke, her eyes fixed on Samantha walking towards her. “If you don’t know then what good are you?” She picked her up by her neck and held her high in the air.

“Stop! Please! Maybe Astrid knows. That sounds like something she would know.” One of the girls pleaded. Finally an answer.

“Take me to her.”

———————��

Lydia stood in the doorway glancing back and forth between Betelgeuse and Astrid waiting for an answer.

Betelgeuse stood up suddenly becoming nervous and fidgety. “Uh…well…I” He stuttered not knowing what to say. Astrid stood up beside him and gave him a slight push towards her. “Tell her.”

“Is this about the kiss thing?” Lydia asked.

“Kinda yeah, you see—“ He went to say, but she interrupted him.

“I’m not your true love. I kissed you the other night. Nothing happened.”

“You…you did?” Betelgeuse asked taken aback. She sighed and stepped into the room.

“When you were sleeping. I thought it would work, but it didn’t.” She told him.

Betelgeuse threw his hands up. “That was your problem. Didn’t you read what it said? True love’s kiss can’t be intentional. It has to be spontaneous. You can’t expect it.” He explained. Now it all made sense, Astrid thought to herself.

“Does that mean that I could still be your true love?” Lydia asked, taking a step closer to Betelgeuse. He nodded his head, yes.

“Oh BJ I’m so sorry. I-“ Lydia began, but was interrupted by a loud crashing noise from downstairs.

“What the hell was that?!” She exclaimed

running out of the room, Betelgeuse and Astrid following her.

They stood at the top of the stairs looking down below into the entryway where their eyes fell upon a familiar figure standing there.

“Oh shit!” Betelgeuse cried, not believing what he was seeing. Delores turned and locked eyes with him.

“Hello my love.”

(Tag list: @msshadows97 )

#uh oh #the ex is back #beetlejuice x lydia #beetlejuice #lydia deetz #keatlejuice #beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers #fanfic

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ratwhowrites · 1 year ago

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What the different Romeros would being doing to celebrate their birthday

Our main boy would probably hold a lavish party to celebrate himself and purposely not invite Dallas. He’d be fully dressed up and have lots of strawberries. All kinds of desserts and food, loud music, the works. He and his boyfriend Bastian would dance and watch the stars afterwards. Maybe at the end of the night, he’d get the old gang together. Flynn, Artemis, Spencer, Harper, Cecelia, Dallas and himself. They’d laugh and joke like they used to and for a time, it’ll feel like nothing had changed. Maybe the portraits in the hallway will wish him a happy birthday as he makes his way to bed.

Warped Romero probably got the day off so he could spend time with Bastian. Artemis would make sure nothing went wrong so he has the perfect birthday. He gets to sleep in, have some breakfast, maybe even see his family. The day will mainly be spent with Bastian and Artemis who likes to always check up on him. He gets to rest and relax before going right back to work the next day.

Romero in Acrobat’s world is probably spending his birthday alone. Maybe he called Artemis to hang out with him since his father was more than likely too busy to notice what day it was. The Astrophel family isn’t too well likes because of their business so it isn’t out of the ordinary for him to spend it alone. But at least he has one person who came to celebrate. He ordered a strawberry ice cream cake and shared it with Artemis and Carnage (Carnage ate most of it.)

Bird Eater (Spider-Man Romero) definitely spent the day outside, hanging out with Cecelia and Spencer who were determined to give him a good birthday. Unbeknownst to him, they stole gifts and cake from shops and prepared a miniature party for him. He got time to tend to his garden and make jam from his strawberry plant named Jen. She was a gift from a friend. ( @burnt-pheonix ) Spencer made sure that none of the other villains dared to try anything that might ruin his birthday while Cecelia planned a nice date for Romero and Bastian. Bastian managed to swipe an expensive pair of earrings for him, against Romero’s wishes. All in all, one of his more peaceful days.

Roadtrip Romero got to go to his favorite museum and spend the day wandering around and buying things from the gift shop. Maybe afterwards, he got to go to the beach, buy all the taffy he wants while Dallas joked about the birds on the beach being his relatives.

Neither Beetlejuice Romero, nor Haunted House Romero would do much to celebrate since they’re dead. Possibly mess around but nothing special.

Sitcom Romero had a classic birthday episode. No one seemed to remember it was his birthday and Artemis was left to spend the day with him doing boring things. Meanwhile back at the house, Dallas organized a huge party for his best friend, having Bastian be a surprise guest. By the end of the night, Romero is frustrated and tired, but when he walks in, he’s surprised by all his friends and family.

Knight au Romero spent the entire day with his most loyal knight, Dallas. They hung out just like they always did, getting treats and having fun.

And last but not least, Salvaged au Romero got to celebrate with everyone in the void house, trying to enjoy the day even though it reminded him of painful memories

There’s more but those are currently the only ones I remember.

#romero astrophel #rat man's ocs #dallas curtis #flynn curtis #artemis dixon #Bastian Pyrite

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doveabovetheworld · 2 years ago

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This Is Halloween

Jake Kiszka x GN!Reader

Summary; It’s now Halloween, your favorite holiday of all time, and you get to spend it with your boyfriend, Jake Kiszka, your older brother, and his three kids. What more could you possibly ask for when you get to go trick or treating with people you love?

Warnings; Language, drinking, a couple references towards 18+ acts, fluff

A/N; With the twins done, we just have the two pretty best friends left! Also, im not totally in Jake lane and i dont really read many fics about him so im so sorry if this is awful just know I will be making more about Jake as time goes on!

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I wasn't expecting Jake to be this into Halloween when I first met him.

When we started dating about 3 years ago, I learned how passionate he is about a lot of different things like music, his family, and especially pirates.

I heard Jake come through the front door calling my name.

“Hi, baby!” I walked up to Jake and hugged him, “How was the store?”

“It wasn't too bad! You got everything ready for dinner?”

“Almost!” I smiled at him and went back over to the kitchen to work on dinner. “Are you ready for tonight?’

“I'm sure it’ll be fun, right?” Jake looked over to me with a sheepish smile and laughed nervously. My older brother, Alex, and his three kids were coming over that night and we were going to be taking them around our neighborhood to go trick-or-treating. Jake’s known for a few weeks but still seems a little unsure of this idea. He’s so confident with a lot of things but kids definitely aren’t his thing. It’s not like he doesn’t like them, it’s just that he doesn’t think he can handle them.

“Of course, it will be, Jake! Trust me.”

Jake sighed in relief and walked up behind me as he said, “All right… One more thing before I get the table ready, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?”

I looked at Jake and smiled, “Well I was thinking after dinner and trick or treating, we could “watch” a movie when my brother and his kids leave if you want?”

“Oh? “Watching” a movie…” he repeated what I said and he looked at me amorously, “Now that sounds like a fantastic plan, beautiful.”

“Exactly!” I laughed a little bit and smiled at him.

“You’re a genius, aren’t you?” Jake smiled at me and put his arms around my waist.

“I would hope so!” Jake laughed and smiled warmly with his head on my shoulder.

“So… any thoughts on what movie you wanna “watch”?” Jake kissed my shoulder and went over to the fridge and pulled out a drink before he continued, “I was thinking something like… Beetlejuice maybe?”

I looked over at him and gasped full of excitement, “Yes! I love that movie!”

“I know! That’s exactly why I picked it, love.” he laughed, “I’m going to set the table for dinner, okay? I’ll let you know when they’re here.”

“Okay! Thank you, Jakey!”

After about twenty minutes I finished making dinner and walked over to Jake who was in our living room sitting on the window sill. He was looking intently while watching outside. His arms were crossed and he didn’t look anywhere else.

“You takin’ your role seriously, Captain?” I laughed as I hugged him tightly.

“You know it, darling. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t watch over my co-captain?” He laughed at himself mockingly and smiled as he looked at me. His eyes were kind and warm as he grabbed my hand. He was soft and fit in mine perfectly. I always felt so safe with him and I loved our little moments like these together where there was a comforting silence that no one wanted to break.

I then saw my brother’s car park in our driveway and shouted, “They're here!”

I got up and went outside to see him.

He was only about two years older than me and looked just like me. A lot of people thought we were twins when we were in school. The only difference between us is his personality. He’s so much more reckless and risk-taking than I ever am. We’ve been super close our whole lives and hang out almost every day. He’s my best friend. He and his ex-wife got their divorce finalized a few months ago due to their “difference of opinions”. They had three kids together but never got along. I think they tried to stick together for the kids at first but it turned out to be a bad decision. His ex is super nice though and they still talk like friends. I guess being in a relationship with each other wasn’t their forte.

Isabella, who was about six years old, and so sweet, was the oldest. Followed by Eloise who was four. The youngest of them was Henry, he’s only two years old.

I hugged Alex and helped him bring the kids into the house.

I went inside to meet Jake sitting in the living room and when he saw the kids come in his face turned from a nervous expression into an excited one as he smiled and waved.

“Hey, guys,” Jake laughed and looked back and forth between Alex and the kids, “Hope you guys are ready for dinner!”

I tell Alex and the kids to sit at the table and ask Jake for help in the kitchen as we get the plates ready for everyone.

“I can tell you’re nervous… is there anything I can do to help, love?” I asked Jake and hugged him, attempting to comfort him the best I could.

“Just a little bit but I’ll shake it off eventually. Don’t worry, babe,” Jake smiled and got two drinks from the fridge before walking to the dining room table and offering one of the drinks to Alex as he popped the tab off saying, “Here, I grabbed a drink for you and I… thought we may need it after dealing with the kids.”

Jake nodded towards me and the other three, including me in his little comment. Alex nodded in agreement as he and Jake laughed and took a sip of their drinks.

Jake and I finished bringing everyone’s plates and sat down with ours. We all start chatting about stuff that’s been happening in our lives recently. Jake looks at me happily and smiles. He leaned over to me and whispered, “This is great, babe. I’m glad we planned this.”

I smiled brightly at him and Alex started to talk about this huge promotion he got at his job. Jake and Alex were talking about all sorts of things that they liked and random stuff like that. We all finished eating and I announced to the kids, “Let’s go get dressed up guys! It’s time to get some candy!”

All the kids shouted happily. They were so excited they were practically jumping up and down in their chairs. Jake started bursting out laughing and looked at me and smirked, “You better take control of these kids, love.”

“No way! They aren’t mine!” I laughed and looked at Akex who was shaking his head with a smile. I then asked Jake if he would help me clean while Alex gets the kids ready and he agreed. We walked into the kitchen and we started doing the dishes.

“So… what’s everyone going to be?” Jake asked as he put the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Well… I think Isabella is going as Anna from Frozen, Eloise is going as a witch, and Henry is going as some sort of tiger I think? I’m not totally sure.” I laugh and hug Jake.

“We’re gonna have our hands full with them aren’t we?” Jake smiles and chuckles as he shakes his head a few times before kissing me on the cheek.

“Okay, now that we’re done cleaning, I think we should get into our costumes and go trick or treating now!”

Jake’s face lights up with excitement. His face is the perfect mix of excitement, happiness, and anticipation. He looked at me with a big, happy smile and nodded a few times, “I agree! I’m sure the kids are ready now too!”

Jake and I head upstairs to change into our matching pirate costumes that I begged Jake to wear. He was so against wearing matching costumes at first until I mentioned they were going to be pirates. That same day, he took me to the closest Halloween store and we got our costumes.

When we were ready we went back downstairs. Jake was coming down yelling and waving his rapier all over the place. He then said, “Is everyone ready?”

The kids all shouted “Yes!” at the same time with energy and excitement that filled the whole house with laughter.

“Okay, everyone. Ready?” Jake shouted with such enthusiasm and excitement, he practically yelled. He laughed and opened the front door for everyone while the kids raced outside, “C’mon, let’s go!”

We all walk around the neighborhood together while the kids go up to the houses and get their candy. We had such a fun time and I couldn’t stop smiling. Jake took my hand and squeezed it tightly letting me know how much he was having fun. Jake then stopped and I looked at him confused.

“What’s up, love?”

Jake then smiled and started to say, “I just wanna say… I love you so much.”

“Jakey… that’s…” I blushed and hugged him, “You’re amazing, Jake. I really wouldn’t know what I would do without you.”

“Thank you,” Jake beamed and hugged me back as he whispered, “Thank you for making me happy.”

I kissed him and let go of him, grabbing his hand, “Come on now, Captain. We wouldn’t want to lose the rest of your crew now would we?”

“You’re right, love!” Jake laughed and squeezed my hand again as we walked, catching up to Alex and the kids.

After a while of going around the neighborhood, the kids got tired so we decided to head back to our homes. Alex gave me a hug and the kids said bye to Jake and me before he and the kids left.

“Are you ready for our movie?” I asked Jake, giving him a frisky look.

He laughed and nodded immediately making his way over to the couch to put the movie on. I turned off the lights and sat next to him thinking about how lucky I am to have Jake in my life.

The rest of the night was filled with us “watching” the movie and be as close as we could to one another as if we would never let go.

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legendary-defender-of-fandoms · 7 months ago

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For reference, this is the tie I’m working on.

I’ve got a frog for Fizarolli (aka Froggy), a snake for Sir Pentious (I wanted an egg, but the snake was more fitting), a castle for Sir Lancelot, a dog in a hot dog costume for Puggsly (I thought I wanted a plain dog, but the silly costume feels right), a heart with a clock face I painted last night for Boq, a skull for Emile (I kind of want to shave the bottom half of the skull off so it looks more like a Phantom of the Opera mask, but I think it’ll just muck the whole thing up), and a spider saying “Boo” for Beetlejuice. I ordered a “Stick it To The Man” pin for the knot, and I want to get a tree for the Knight Who Says Ni & either a wizard’s hat or a shooting star for Tim the Enchanter. Maybe find some sort of camera charm for 35MM, and a bunny for his role in Big Fish. Oh, and maybe a shark for that play he did last year! Slowly working my way through The Blacklist, but I’m hoping I can cheat & find some clips of Herbie on YouTube that’ll give me a sense of what sort of charm would best represent him. The name “Herbie Hambright” evokes “goodest boy, pure as fresh fallen snow, considers ‘darn’ a swear word,” but given the tone of the show it’s entirely possible Herbie’s got a higher body count than Reddington while still being too polite to ask for no pickles.

For context, I’m working on my very own Dewey Finn cosplay for future cons. Specifically the musical Dewey Finn, not the movie Dewey Finn (no shade against the movie). But instead of bedazzling my cosplay’s tie with generic stars & gems like the tie in the show, I’m gonna deck it out with tiny charms for a handful of Alex Brightman’s other roles. I’ve got a heart charm I’m painting a tiny clock face onto for Boq from Wicked, and I need to get some Halloween-y charms for Beetlejuice & Emile from Goosebumps - Phantom of the Auditorium. But I can’t decide which of these angels to use for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. He spends most of the show in a white robe, but he wears a purple robe in the Season 1 finale.

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musical-shit-show · 2 years ago

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my apologies. prompt list 1, #4 please, beetlejuice!!

don’t want you like a best friend

Pairing: Beetlejuice x Reader

Inspiration: Prompt #4 (“i really want to kiss you right now” “do it then”) from Prompt List 1.

Warnings: alcohol mention, reader is tipsy, fluff, suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 1,173

Author’s Note: So so so sorry this took so long! I’ve been crazy busy with work and the show that I’m in, but I finally finished this ask! Thanks anon for the suggestion! And if you’d like to request anything from either of my Prompt Lists, please send me an ask and check out my Masterlist and About Me page! Enjoy :)

“Beej, I have to go now. You know how I hate being late.”

The demon huffed at your completely reasonable statement. You were finally able to coordinate a night out with your friends, and the live-in ghost who had plagued your existence over the past few months was clearly not pleased.

At first, you were utterly bewildered by Beetlejuice. You have no idea how he ended up in your apartment, though he kept muttering something about being a ‘bio-exorcist’, which sounded far too fantastical for you to fully comprehend.

Once he realized his efforts to scare you out of your dwelling was fruitless, Beetlejuice took no time at all making himself at home. In a way, he was like a housecat: he purred, he slept wherever he wanted, he pushed over breakable objects for attention.

And he wanted nothing more than to be around you all the time.

Which, to him, started out as nothing but another activity to fill his endless existence. If he couldn’t scare you to death, annoying you to death was certainly an acceptable option, right?

“But baaaaabe,” he whined, floating above you as you fished out the keys from your purse, “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone? Not a ton of options for a dead guy, ya know.”

He was lying, of course. There were plenty of hijinks a demon of his nature could get up to on a Friday night, but he wanted you to feel bad for him. His incessant flirting didn’t faze you either, much to the ghost’s dismay.

He had a kind of crush on you, which wasn’t at all surprising. Beetlejuice had developed a penchant for breathers over the years, and you had grown to be one of his favorites. Which made your departure for the evening even more gutting.

“I don’t know,” you answered his rhetorical question, exasperated as you slung your purse over your shoulder, “But I have no doubt you’ll find some way to entertain yourself.”

The demon’s hair turned a deep shade of violet, not masking his sadness at the prospect of you enjoying a night out without him. You noticed immediately and frowned.

“It’ll only be a couple hours, bug,” you hoped the pet name would soften the blow, “I promise.” Beetlejuice grumbled and *popped* out of the room. You sighed, accepting his poutiness. Maybe you’d be able to make it up to him later.

***

When you got home, your ghostly roommate was nowhere to be found. Despite only having a few drinks, your head was throbbing. You flopped onto the couch and contemplated turning on the TV, but you couldn’t muster the willpower to try and find the remote.

You looked around a few times, when suddenly you saw it rising slowing, surrounded by a sickly lime glow. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh as it floated towards you.

“Beetlejuice!” you knew using his full name would irritate him, and you were right. He materialized seconds later, his hair back to its signature shade of green. You oddly couldn’t have been happier to see him.

“Hey, babes, easy on the ‘B’ word, okay?” he said as he immediately got comfortable on your couch, “If I went away, who’d be here to entertain ya?” You let out another giggle, your last drink making you feel equal parts bold and bubbly.

“Well, I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” you retorted, finally grabbing the remote out of the air and placing it on your coffee table.

“So…” he drawled, his voice sounding particularly gravelly, “You have a good time tonight?” You couldn’t help but sigh, your headache finally wearing off. Instinctively, you let your head rest on Beetlejuice’s shoulder. You had become nose blind to the smell of dirt and decay that constantly permeated from his suit jacket.

“Yeah, I mean, it was nice seeing everyone,” you said, suddenly feeling warm, “I didn’t really have much to contribute though; you know, they were all talking about weddings and babies and gossip and I was just…there. Listening.”

He nodded, not sure how to respond. Beetlejuice had been dead for so long that he couldn’t remember the mundane moments of his life. He watched your ups and downs and in betweens and sometimes, for a second, he could recall what it was like to be human. Maybe that’s why he stuck around.

“Honestly,” you said, swallowing bravely as you raised your head to meet his eye, “all I could think about was coming home. To you.” Of course, this got the demon’s attention. All he could muster was a surprised “Oh?”, his eyebrows raised in shock and amusement.

You had never rendered Beetlejuice speechless before, so you decided to continue.

“Yeah,” you said, “And I swear, I’m only a little bit tipsy so don’t think I don’t mean this, because I do. But I really want to kiss you right now.”

The demon couldn’t help but flash a knowing smirk.

“Do it then.”

And you did. And it was sweet and soft and not at all what you expected. It took a little liquid courage, but as soon as your lips met his, it felt like a switch flipped inside your brain. You had no idea this had been what you’d been searching for.

After a moment, Beetlejuice deepened the kiss, and you felt a pit form in your stomach. You knew how he was; you didn’t want this to be just a random hookup. Being a notch it a demon’s bedpost wasn’t exactly on your bucket list.

Before you could form a coherent thought, you hadn’t even realized that he had wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to his ridiculously tattered suit. You couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Wait,” you said, your head spinning again, “I don’t—I can’t let this be a one-night thing, Beej. I like you. A lot. I think I’ve just be too stupid to see it until now so, if you don’t want that, we can just pretend like this never happened.”

Pink had started to sprout at the roots of his hair, and he still had a big grin plastered on his face, “Babes, are you serious?” he asked incredulously, “I’ve wanted to be with ya since the first week I started crashing here. I think you’re hot stuff.”

You could feel yourself turn red as you kissed him again, elated, “Plus,” he drawled, “How great will it be to tell your friends the next time you see them that your boyfriend is a demon.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll love that.”

“Make sure to let them know I give great head.”

“Beej!” you hit him playfully, blush now creeping up your neck as he peppered kisses along your clavicle.

“Just so ya know, all you have to do is just ask, sweetheart,” he looked up at you, his eyes now fiery with hunger as he scanned you up and down, “And in that outfit, you won’t have to ask twice.”

***

thanks for reading! please like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed this!

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hereliesbeetlejuice · 2 years ago

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wait why do you not want a proshot of this show? just wanna know cause you’re the only blog whose beetlejuice opinions i trust

oof ok. i didn’t wanna get into it cause i know it’s gonna be an unpopular opinion but like this is so kind?? so i’ll share for you beloved anon <3

(obligatory these-are-my-personal-feelings-and-opinions-based-on-my-own-experiences-with-the-show-and-not-objective-facts-that-i-expect-everyone-to-agree-with disclaimer !!!)

first off just wanna clarify if we do end up getting a proshot (and i have VERY strong suspicions that we will) i won’t be upset or anything i just really, really wish they had been able to film it before the shutdown like they’d planned, for a lot of reasons.

the show of course is a little different now, not so much in terms of the book or songs just small little updates made here and there in terms of the jokes, performances, etc. and 2019-2020 was this show’s peak in popularity, when it was huge on tiktok and selling at 103% capacity. a lot of us fans stuck around for re-opening but for the general public two whole years had passed by so they kinda moved onto other things (as shown in the difference in ticket sales). so for those that aren’t avid longtime fans to get excited about the pro-shot it would probably have to be the same exact show everyone was excited about in 2019, but it won’t be to them

and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, i think some evolvement is good to keep the show fresh. but the way i see it they could’ve either totally revamped and revitalized it or kept it the exact same and instead they went with this weird noncommittal in-between? where yea it’s different but nothing was really added to it. just enough for old fans to say a few “hey that’s new”s but nothing that made it better for new fans. and imo the show since re-opening has seemed to be very much aimed towards the old fans that stuck around from the Before Times. i feel like they relied too heavily on the show’s pre-pandemic popularity and assumed the exact same audience would be the ones coming back post-pandemic. it’s hard to explain but a lot of the small changes, line deliveries, how jokes play out, it feels like they’re switching it up to keep them new and fresh so it’s fun to hear it differently if you know the show but if it’s your first time it’s maybe not,, the best way? sorta feels like they had it right the first time and then felt like they had to switch it up to keep it from getting repetitive to the returning fans (that probably makes no sense it’s hard to put into words idk)

but ANYWAY there’s also of course the sad fact that a lot of the more casual fans will inevitably be disappointed that it’s not the entire OBC, there’s gonna be a lot of unfair comparisons to the actors that originated the roles because the songs won’t sound exactly like the cast album which is what people are used to, i worry that it won’t be received very well by a lot of people.

all this along with other nitpicky things. i think the new makeup design is literally horrid and it’ll look even worse in HD. alex’s character voice has shifted with all of the voiceover work he’s done since the shutdown. i have my personal casting preferences that don’t perfectly align with the current cast though i don’t mind it it’s just not my favorite cast we’ve ever had and not the one i would’ve preferred to be filmed (but i still love and adore them ALL)

tldr; i don’t think a proshot of the current show would be received as well as it would’ve been if it had been filmed when it was originally supposed to and i worry that a negative reception will impact ticket sales (like the dear evan hansen movie), which we can’t afford. although i love the current show it’s definitely not my favorite version so it’s not how i’d ideally like it to be memorialized, and it’s not the version i’d choose to be a lot of people’s first introduction to the show when imo it used to be better BUT i won’t complain either way, this show will still always be my whole damn heart and soul 💜

#i wish i had time to make this a little more coherent but here’s my jumble of thoughts sorry if it made no sense #don’t get me wrong tho i’m PSYCHED the show is back and it and everyone involved in it still own my entire ass #i speak #ask #anonymous

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obsessive-ego · 3 years ago

Text

Jack it to a jacket nsft

Masterbation, voyeurism, you know how I am

Musical beetlejuice x fem reader (reader has a vagina but uses they them pronouns)

Beetlejuice forgets his jacket and you use it while he's gone

Beetlejuice had announced to you he had to spend a few days in the netherworld for bio exorcist meeting or something, you really didnt get it, it's not like he actually had a job, all you knew is that he's been complaining about it since day one. That he had to leave the world of the living for a bit.

The day finally came for him to head out for his little business trip, you could tell the ghoul was less then thrilled to go, slight purple streaks graced his hair, you knew he wasnt too keen on being in the netherworld, the demon had such a fascination with the living, an adoration for living with you, going back to the netherworld, even for a few days was like heading back to work after a long period off, soul sucking.

"Alright Sugar" he starts adjusting his tie, his jacket resting on the arm of the couch "I'll be gone for a few days, try not to miss me too much~"

You give the ghoul a soft smile "itll be quieter for sure" you try to joke

"Yeah..." he trails off, his playful teasing voice dropping along with his grin.

"I know this is gonna suck, but the sooner you get it started the sooner it's over with" you try to cheer him up giving the demon a light punch in the arm.

Beetlejuice's hue was now completely purple, you frown at the sight.

"You know doll, I'm being awfully selfish here, but, how bout ya give me a little sugar before I go?~"

You flinch at the suggestion, you wouldnt say you were shocked at this request, but you were.

"You're stalling"

"Come on babes, humor me, I gotta fill out paper work and deal with my mother, could REALLY use a pick me up~" he nudges you gently and gives a wink, hoping it'll soften you up, it does.

"Fine" you huff out, you grab the demon by the suspenders, yanking him to you level giving him a quick peck.

"No tongue on the first date?~" he snickers, as pink patches pop up in his mossy beard.

"...have a good trip" you utter trying to hide your embarrassment

"Oh doll I will, thinking about your soft lips~" the demon's voice drops to that low growl that never failed to make you warm in your lower areas

"Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Bee-"

You could NEVER make it to 3, the ghoul was always quick to slap a hand to your mouth, pulling you into a side hug.

"Trying to kick me out so soon sugar? So mean~" he chuckles, the ghoul pulls his hand from your mouth and you sigh.

Beetlejuice pauses holding you in this awkward side hug for a few minutes

"Bee?"

"I know" he grumbles, he begrudgingly pulls away

The ghoul makes his way to the empty wall and draws his entrance.

Knock

Your living room wall opens up to the netherworld, it was always a rare sight to you, a little anxiety inducing, you freeze for a moment, but as the demon steps into the world of the dead you shout

"Wait!"

Beetlejuice turns to you

"You forgot something"

The demon's eyes light up and in a flash he was infront of you, his hands cup your face as he slams his lips into yours, you jolt in surprise, as the ghoul pulls away he purrs "almost forgot my second goodbye kiss, thanks doll" and just like that he was gone, the netherworld was out of sight and you were alone.

"Your jacket" you whisper still alittle dizzy from his kiss.

...

The jacket he left behind spent a few hours folded neatly on the couch as you go about your alone time. Everytime beetlejuice was away you always took the opportunity to get some chores done, you liked the demon yeah, but he always got under foot, or he would be creepy while you tried to get things done. There were times where you were just doing the laundry, and the demon would just stare at you, no words, he just sat atop the dryer watching you like a hawk as you loaded the washer, it made your skin crawl and your stomach turn to have that much attention put on you, hell, you'd rather him be lewd and annoying then that.

As creepy as he was, that was just who he was, and you loved him, his awful charms, his terrible jokes, and his over all handsome, to you, look, wormed it's way into your heart and refused to let go.

Every kiss, every grope, every pet name he gave you dug you deeper into your affection. Though you were too terrified to confront him about your feelings, he was a literal demon, could he even share these feelings, let alone would he like you the same way, all in all you didnt want to ruin what the two of you had, friends, good friends.

You missed him, you really did, so what was the harm in wearing his coat, just around the house, and maybe smelling it every now and again, that wasnt too weird right? And it would be fine if you were to fall asleep wearing it right? There was no harm in it, but if beetlejuice was to pop in unexpectedly and if he say you wearing it casually youd never hear the end of it, and yet you never took it off.

It's been a few days since beetlejuice left for the netherworld, you were relaxing on your bed looking at memes trying to ignore how much you missed a certain undead bastard, hell you were wearing the jacket he left behind and stealing a small sniff here and there, beetlejuice never really gives you a time frame as to when he'd be back whenever he goes to the netherworld.

'Time moves differently when you're dead, and boy does it move, but it slows down when I'm with you babes' you shiver and try to swallow the lump in your throat that memory caused, the undead bastard was such a flirt.

You grew a tad lonely without your favorite dead guy, yes you used to live alone before beetlejuice barged his way into your home, but you have gotten used to him, you miss him when he's not with you, especially his no concept of personal space, how the ghoul's hands always found a home on your body, your hips, your waist, your shoulders.

You feel a familiar pulse between your legs, you try and ignore it, though your mind was reeling with old memories of beej touching you, you werent even scrolling through your phone anymore, just staring at the screen, thinking of the demon's strong callused hands running up and down your thighs.

"You win" you grumble sliding off your bed and crouching next to it, you pull out a little tool box. Opening the little box and revealing an average sized bright green vibrator brandishing a nice bulbous tip. You push the button on the toy's base and it buzzes to life, you smile, glad to see the barriers were still alive, it was too late for you to run out and get replacements.

You shimmy out of your pajama pants and panties before you hop back up on the bed. You remove the jacket giving it a deep inhale of its scent before placing it down next to you.

...

Your living room walls silently open up, letting in a thick fog of green reavling your demon friend, the ghoul knew it was late, late enough that his sweet little y/n should be dead asleep, as your living room rearranges itself back to normal the ghoul floats to your bedroom, excited to come snuggle up to your soft warm body after what felt like an eternity with dealing with his mother and newly deads with no sense of humor.

"Ah!"

The ghoul freezes at the sound, standing in front of your closed bedroom door, you could be? He presses an ear to the door, the faint sound of buzzing and muffled moans could be herd.

In a flash Beetlejuice's hair and moss on his face turns electric pink.

"A welcome home present? For me? Oh dolly~" he whispers before snapping his fingers and camouflaging himself. Beetlejuice fazed through the door and froze at the sight of you, yes he has seen you touch yourself before, but this?

There you were Laying on your bed, propped up by pillows, shirt pulled up exposing your breasts, bottom half completely bare, pumping the vibrator he got you (as an apology for messing with your old one) in and out of your leaking pussy, with your face buried in his jacket, muffling your whining.

The ghoul could have blown his load from the sight alone, yes he knew you liked him, and yes he knows you want him, but this? This was dirty, this was naughty, smelling his clothes and jerking off? You were just as horny as him, not really, no one is, but he'll take this.

"And here I thought only I had a scent fetish" he chuckles making his way to the end of the bed, plopping down to get a good view of your soaked vigina, he was fixated on the speed you pumped the toy in and out of you. Beetlejuice fumbled with his fly, pulling out his semi, the ghoul licks the palm of his hand, coding it is a nice layer of saliva before wrapping it around his cock. Beetlejuice starts off slowly, but it isnt long until his pace matches yours, imagining the toy between your legs was him, god slash satan he envied that peice of silicon.

"Beetlejuice" you whine bucking your hips up to meet the vibrator as it slid back in, you take another deep inhale of the jacket's scent and whine, beetlejuice groans in response.

"Such a dirty little thing, fuck- I expected to come home and see ya sleeping it in, ah- but this? Oh babes, I would have left it behind months ago to, oh god- to see you like this" the ghoul babbled, he really didnt want to finish before you, he wanted to enjoy this show for as long as possible.

You were absolutely lost in your little activity, using you non dominant hand to hold the demon's jacket to your nose, the scent drove you wild, you could imagine beetlejuice driving his cock into you over and over again, the idea of him fully dressed fucking you while you were completely naked made you tremble.

“Oh my god Bee, fuck, yes, please, fucking oh my god I want you to…Beetlejuice fuck…” you babble as you begin to pick up pace with the vibrator.

The ghoul drools at the show you oh so kindly are giving him, hearing you moan out his name, oh how he loved that sound, it wasnt the first time beetlejuice herd you moan out his name during your 'alone time' but it still made his toes curl as though it was.

Beetlejuice growls through his teeth, he was almost there, seeing you use his jacket in such a way was better than he ever could’ve imagined, yes he dreamed of you using his things for sexual satisfaction, he just thought he'd never see it.

Beetlejuice found that trying to keep the pace with you was growing too hard, he needed to finish, he needed you to finish. He didn’t want to cum before you, he needed to see you cum while using his jacket, he needed the image of you using his things to cum to be carved into his brain.

Thankfully, Beej is good at edging, this wasnt his first day being a peeping Tom, and it wont be the last, it wasnt easy, but he could do it, watching you whine and buck your hips because of him, sure made it a challenge though.

You were almost there, you stop pumping the toy, only for a second, to crank the vibrations to the higher setting, your hips jolt up as you press the jacket against your face muffling your screams, with the intensity up you were ready for the home stretch, you begin to move the toy again, in and out, imagining it was the ghoul you oh so loved. You could just imagine beetlejuice pressing you into the mattress with every thrust, all the dirty things he'd be saying to you, praising you for how well you take his fat cock, growling, biting, you couldn't take it anymore, you felt like you were gonna explode. God you wanted that smug bastard so badly, you loved him so much, you moved the hand holding the jacket against you face and brought it to your vagina, as one hand pumped the vibrator the other played with your clit. You groan through your teeth at the added simulation, if only you could see the demon infront of you.

Beetlejuice sat before you, jaw dropped, tongue hanging, drool dripping down his chin, panting. His cock was throbbing, leaking pre cum, he was ready to burst, honestly he surprised he hasn't yet, watching his y/n go to town on their pussy. Beetlejuice watched ad you hips bounced, and your toes curled, he could finally get a good look at your face, you were tearing up.

"Feels good doesnt babes? Wait till you get the real deal~"

"LAWRENCE!" You shout as your hips buck upwards, just then, something new happened, you squirted, thought you didnt notice, you were too busy, head lulled back, panting, and using the soft buzzing of the vibrator to ride out your orgasm.

But beetlejuice on the other hand saw, he saw you squirt when you called him, when you called him by his first name, a name you rarely used. The demon blew his load shortly after your little finale, an image that will always be treasured by him. Beetlejuice wipes the cum off his hand on his pant leg, and slides his now soft cock back into his pants. He watches you lay there for a moment before you gingerly sit up, reaching forward to turn off the vibrator and remove it from you, you flinch doing so, still tender. You give out a yawn and toss the toy on the floor mumble how you'll deal with it in the morning, adjusting your shirt to cover hour chest you slide under the covers, in minutes you were asleep, holding his jacket oh so tightly.

Beetlejuice envied the garment, and as much as the ghoul wanted to slide in next you now, he couldnt, you were naked from the waist down. But you did leave him a tasty snack, so he couldnt be mad at you. Beetlejuice snatches up the freshly used vibrator, still warm from your touch, and vanishes

"Good night y/n" his voice purrs in your ears,

"...Lawrence..."

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

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monmuses · 2 years ago

Text

nurturing-starlight:

Unlike her sister, who he’s met, her mother would be on the opposite side of the spectrum. She EVENTUALLY planned to confess to her mother about Beej actually being a demon, but the plan was get her to get to know him first before dropping something so big on her mother. She just hopes he can understand that. Honestly she doesn’t like doing this either since his more earthy smell was gone, something she doesn’t care for.

Once she finishes blow drying his hair, she thinks for a moment before moving to pull a makeup kit from under the sink cabinet. It might be a challenge, but she can probably pull it off…

“I think I can manage this.. Hopefully we’ll only have to do this once or twice at the most.. I’d rather not scare her at the fact you’re a demon right as she first meets you. So maybe if she gets to know you a bit, we can tell her the truth after awhile…”

She feels bad for having to lie to her mother to begin with, but she knows it’ll be understood due to the circumstances… “Just make sure you hold still okay? I used to have to do my makeup all the time back when I worked as an idol. If you wiggle or anything I’ll mess up.”

His ears were a little droopy, shoulders slouched down as he sat there waiting for her. As much as he understood why things had to be done, he hated dropping his whole mojo. Change was something he hated, but he had to get used to it. Grumbling, his little ears perked up at her grabbing the make-up kit, gently rocking on his seat.

“I dunno, babes. First time you saw me, you weren’t even horrified or nothin’,” he shrugged. “You sure your Ma isn’t the same way with scary ghosts and demons?”

Beetlejuice gave an angled head tilt, raising a brow. Surely, her mom was just as calm when it came to the supernatural, right? Kids picked up something from their parents. At least, that was what he chose to believe. Instead, he fixed his head posture, looking up at her.

“Can’t promise I’ll sit still for too long,” he grinned. “Alright, alright, I won’t. I’ll let you do your makeup magic, babes. What kind of makeup do y’got in that bag, anyways?”

#✨{𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔞 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔢!; (𝔦𝔫-𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶)#✨{𝔦'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢; (𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔧𝔲𝔦𝔠𝔢 & 𝔫𝔦𝔪𝔲𝔢)#✨{𝔳; 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔲𝔰𝔲𝔞𝔩}#🐺 * 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 : in character #🐺 * 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 : queue

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submissivekillers · 4 years ago

Note

Can I get uhhhhh HCs of afab reader having the upper hand over Beej and making him weakTM by teasing/edging him but never giving him release? Maybe he calls them Mommy and it makes reader weak to the point where they almost give in but they continue to edge them both and only focus on making the orgasm as intense as possible?

[claps my hands at the speed of light and breaks all me bones] let’s goooo

Beetlejuice might be a lil tease himself, but the minute the tables are turned and you start teasing him? watch the big bad bio-exorcist turn fully pink in the blink of an eye

just being near you is enough to get him going, to be perfectly honest, so when you actually get your hands on him it's very easy to get him worked up

(man gets one look at you in pretty lighting and accidentally starts planning out your wedding, you think he can handle teasing? i have to laugh)

the warm weight of your body against his, the dark look in your eyes as you tumble back to the mattress, the little moans and sighs you let out as you kiss him - it's enough to have him on the edge before you've even so much as taken your shirt off

Beej won’t resist when you roll him over and settle on top of him, happy to let you take control - especially when your hand slips below his belt, wrapping firmly around his cock. your fingers are smeared with vivid green slick immediately, and it doesn’t take long before he’s clearly on the brink, clawing at your clothes and fucking into the tight warmth of your fist - and then you stop

he'll whine the first time you pull back of course, chasing your touch, even going so far as to catch your hand and put it back where he needs you. grab his wrists and pin them up next to his head to watch his eyes go wide, already-pink hair streaking a deeper magenta

he’ll even hold himself down for you if you ask nicely (or, you know, just order him); black-and-white striped tentacles curling around his wrists and spreading his legs apart, keeping him nice and exposed for your wandering hands and mouth

the most foolproof method to get Beej to the edge and back, even outweighing the simple pleasure of your touch on his dick? praise. he needs to hear how much you want this too; how good he looks, how pretty he sounds, how you love pleasing him, touching him. could cum by your words alone (and might, if you’re not careful. luckily for your plans, Beej’s libido is enough to keep him going for much longer anyway)

another surefire way to have him sobbing and whining for you is shameless groping, especially of his chest and stomach. he loves feeling like you can’t keep your hands off him, especially combined with the above. squeeze his love handles, run your fingers through pink-tinted chest hair, leave neat lil bite marks around his sensitive nipples - it’ll just make his moans all the more frantic when you take your hands off him and he falls away from the edge yet again

he’s surprisingly quiet through it all, clearly trying to hold something back - keening and moaning for you, but not talking as much as he usually does. it’s when you allow him inside you for the first time, nothing more than the tip, that he finally slips, looking up at you adoringly as he croaks out a hoarse whine of “mommy, please let me come”

your cunt squeezes around him hard enough to milk a few thick drops of precum out of his swollen cock, and from then on he’s shamelessly loud for you, half-slurred wails of mommy and fuck and i’ll be good i promise

by the time you’ve forced him to kill four orgasms, he’s crying for you, fat green tears rolling down his cheeks - but his hair stays vivid pink, right down to the roots, and when you ask him sweetly if he can get out just one more for mommy he nods, already rocking into your palm

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice imagine #horror imagines #nsft #mommy kink tw #ehh vaguely but just in case

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insomniumstella · 4 years ago

Note

An angsty prompt of roommate!bucky? Like just imagine you’re two idiots who are mutual pinning after each other, but obviously y’all don’t know that you’re in love. I might need some angst there....🥺👉👈

bucky x reader

warnings: some adult themes, a bit of angst, can’t think of any others

word count: 3,279

Monday

Their usually empty apartment is scattered with people tonight, soft sounds of music and chatter in the background.

“You didn’t tell me Barnes’s new girlfriend would be here.” Wanda and y/n are preparing drinks in the kitchen, because who wants to only drink straight vodka or beer. Other duties, such as setting up food in the living room were left to the remaining Avengers, and y/n sincerely hopes they can handle it because last time Sam tried opening a bag of chips he spilled them everywhere.

“She’s not his girlfriend.” She raises an eyebrow, finishing each Mojito with a sprig of mint “Besides, he forgot to tell me.” I do not have feelings for Bucky Barnes, she thinks after noticing Wanda’s apologetic look.

“Of course you don’t” She replies sarcastically, almost singing ‘of course’ for emphasis. Surprisingly the living room looks neat and peaceful when they come back, people sitting on every free space they were able to find, floor including.

“Might have to get you and Barnes a bigger apartment because this shoebox isn’t cutting it.” y/n dismisses Tony’s comment because this apartment is often empty anyways due to frequent missions. Still, it’s cozy; when Bucky suggested they live together, because it’s totally normal for two friends to do so, even if they can get separate places, y/n took up the decorating. While it was not necessarily fancy, multiple fairy lights, and about a million photos made the place feel inviting and safe. Bucky would agree too, having spent hours on the worn out couches, whether it was drinking with the boys or reading, something he recently took up. Steve removes his hand from the couch’s arm rest and nods his head as if saying come sit here, which y/n does, cozying up half on the arm rest, half against Steve’s body. He’s nursing a beer, and smiles at her when she finally settles.

“Truth or drink?” Natasha suggests, taking a shot of vodka straight from the bottle, using her Mojito as a chaser. Y/n turns her head to look at Bucky, whose eyes are burning holes in the side of her head, snickering when she turns her gaze to his new girl and notices her disgusted expression. Yeah, it’ll take her a while to get used to us. Sam’s up first to ask questions. He snatches the bottle out of Natasha’s hands, passing it to Tony, and thinks for a minute before asking “Have you ever been in an orgy?”

“That’s one way to start the game.” Tony laughs before taking a shot. He doesn’t have to answer for others to know. “My sweet Natasha, who here do you think is packing the most?”

Somehow she has managed to find and open a bottle of tequila; it’s been a rough week for her. Taking a shot “Steve.” She answers. “Steve, when was the last time you had sex?”

“Do all of these have to be sexual?” He’s blushing hard; talking about things of this nature is still weird and uncomfortable for him, but so’s drinking hard liquor. “Two days ago.” There’s oohs and ahh’s filling the room, and y/n takes notice of how Steve leans into her, almost as if to escape people’s eyes on him.

“C’mon guys, Steve’s right, at least let’s ease into the sexual questions. Hey Bucky, who do you think is the sexiest person here?” That’s a good way for him to include his new girl more, y/n thinks, but to her surprise, Bucky’s taking the bottle of vodka from Tony and taking a shot. The teasing stares from Wanda, y/n tries ignoring for the rest of the game.

Tuesday

“Who do you think is it?” Natasha is still wandering about last night when Bucky decided to take a shot instead of answering who’s the sexiest. For a spy, she’s surprisingly unaware. It’s just the girls at the apartment, because y/n invited them over after James announced he’s going a date. It worked out kind of perfectly; girls nights are very important, yet neither of them can remember when was the last time it happened. Thanking the delivery guy and coming back into the living room with a pizza, y/n turns to Natasha.

“I think the real question is what made you think Steve’s packing the most, when our team has a literal God?” A deep crimson colour paints Natasha’s cheeks. She’s hangover from last night, so it’s one of the rare times anyone ever sees her blushing. y/n knows she’s got her; two days ago, after a mission gone wrong, she decided to sleep at the compound, and guess who was sneaking out of Steve’s room in the middle of the night? As the sun sets, the conversations get more open, and wine bottles, one by one, disappear from the fridge. It’s about 1am when Bucky comes home to find a messy apartment and his girl sleeping on the couch; Natasha and Wanda somehow managed to drunkenly call a taxi back to the compound. Not my girl, he corrects himself after the thought accidentally crosses his mind, I have a different girl, he thinks.

“You’re home.” y/n slurs, reaching her arms out to hug him.

“I’m home.” He chuckles, leaning down to pick her up, bridal style.

“Did you have fun?”

“Not as much as you, apparently.” He answers, walking up to her bedroom door, opening it, and gently places her on the bed. “You’ll have a lot to clean up tomorrow.” This is not true. Bucky Barnes will clean it up himself, the way y/n does after he has one too many. “Goodnight sleeping beauty.” And with a kiss on her forehead she’s out. Not my girl.

Wednesday

Winding down after a long day is one of life’s most simple pleasures, and with Halloween right around the corner, a spooky movie marathon was bound to happen.

“Beetlejuice or Hocus Pocus?”

“Neither of these names mean something to me?” Bucky’s answer sounds more like a question. Of course he wouldn’t know the names of the two classics, yes, life really has been rough on him, y/n thinks. She’s sitting on the couch with a bag of popcorn, legs comfortably placed on the coffee table, when Bucky comes out of the kitchen and puts their drinks down. “Also, you drink too much.” He points out her wine obsession.

Leaning her head on his shoulder after he sits down “You talk too much.” She answers. It feels weird to sit so close when he’s seeing someone, but hey, this is Bucky, the guy, she’s been living with and crushing on for months, she might as well enjoy this while she can. Besides he’s acting casual about it. Not, he’s not casual about it. From the inside at least, because yes, Bucky looks completely calm, reaching down to her lap to grab some popcorn from time to time, but his heart is skipping beats a little too much for his liking.

Maybe next time Steve’s staring at her with those love-filled eyes, I should just tell them to get a room? Bucky considers, this is too hard and at least that way, I won’t see her as much. He’s so still she wonders if he fell asleep, but the turning of his head assures he didn’t. His lips form a smile and she smiles back. I wish Bucky liked me back, like how Steve likes Natasha, y/n thinks to herself, they’re so cute together.

“I don’t like this Beetlejuice guy or whatever he is.”

“I think he’s charming in a way.” y/n lifts her legs from the table and places them over Bucky’s, so she’s sideways and looks up at him.

“You’re charming in a way.”

“Oh sergeant, thank you.”

“Said no one, ever.” Y/n laughs and playfully hits him with one of the many decorative pillows they have placed on the couch.

“You love me, Bucky Barnes.”

Oh you have no idea. That he doesn’t say.

Thursday

8am

Knife, gun, extra ammo; yes, pretty much everything she’d need she has on her.

“Don’t die out there, pretty lady.”

“Okay, Birdman, shut it.” y/n teases as they both walk up to where Bucky’s standing. “This mission is like a piece of cake, right Buck?” But he doesn’t answer, lost somewhere in his own thoughts, face painted in worry. “You alright?” She asks when Sam goes to check on Cap, placing her hand on his shoulder. “This is an easy task.”

“It’s not the mission I’m thinking about.” He shrugs, but there’s no time for her to answer, because Steve is already opening the quinjet door, shouting at them to prepare for jumping.

8pm

“You’ve been quiet all day. If there’s anything, no matter how small, you know you can talk to me.” They’ve been hiding in some random bushes, the apparently quick and easy mission turning into something no one expected.

“Do you like Steve?” Bucky’s face is completely serious, no teasing eyes, no toothy grin he usually has when talking about guys with her.

“Of course I like Steve.” Like a brother or a friend. “This is what’s been bothering you?” y/n laughs, because it’s funny, surely he must know she likes Steve, otherwise why would they spend so much time together.

Yes, that’s what’s been bothering me. “No, just something that I thought of right now.” He manages to smile, but it’s the fakest smile y/n has seen on him yet. “Did you ask him?”

“Yeah.” y/n scrambles to get her phone out of her suit pocket. Of course she texted Steve, asking if they can pack up and go home already as the suspect they were after has not shown up all day.

“Cool.” It’s cool she asked him if he liked her back, James thinks, it’s for the better, “What’d he say?”

Unlocking it, y/n opens up the text messages app “He said yes, we should head back to the jet.”

Looks like they might be going on a first date tonight, Bucky takes a deep breath, that’s good, right?

Friday

Whatever has been bothering Bucky all day yesterday, y/n’s glad is gone. He walks into the meeting holding two trays of coffee, passing them out to those attending.

“Good morning.” He smiles at her, after sitting down and turns his head to look at Steve, who’s standing at the end of the table, ready to start the meeting. His hair is messy and he looks peaceful, a little too peaceful, considering last night’s failed mission. y/n laughs.

“Something you can say to all of us?” She shakes her head and they both share a look which makes Steve’s cheeks turn pink.

“Nothing, Captain.” They both know y/n is mocking him and Natasha, after overhearing her scream the word over and over in the gym’s locker room; the screams clearly cause by pleasure of them going at it.

Bucky shifts in his seat uncomfortably and speaks up “I think we should start, as me and Sam don’t have all day, right Sam?” Whatever Sam’s caught in the middle of, he’s not a fan.

“Actually, I’m not that busy to-“ He’s cut off by James.

“Well, I have a date so start talking lover boy.” He says casually, his words filling the room with an awkward silence, before Steve goes over the plan for their next mission.

Saturday

“Are you sure you don’t mind if a couple of my old college friend come over today?”

Every free Saturday they like to go grocery shopping together. Bucky’s attitude is much better than it was in the meeting yesterday, which is good, except y/n keeps sourly wondering if the reason for that is the date he had.

He picks up a carton of eggs “I’m eggcited!” And places them in the cart. “Butter than ever.” Bucky says putting butter in there too. They’re at a different aisle when y/n notices him reaching for a jar of jelly.

“Don’t you dare-“

“Just don’t be jelly if they’ll give me more attention than they’ll give you.” He laughs.

“I should have never used a single pun in the grocery store around you. Hey, mango annoy someone else.” y/n laughs back, pointing at the fruit. She drags him away before he can grab the olives and say you know olive you.

There’s not much time left to set everything up when they get back, but as Bucky once called them, they’re a super duo. Y/n’s reaching for the wine glasses when the doorbell rings, and before she can make her way to the door, Bucky’s already answering. If he wasn’t into y/n so much, and if he didn’t have a girlfriend, he’d definitely go for her friends, he thinks and scolds himself right after.

“So you must the boyfriend y/n has been telling us so much about?” Wait, this is confusing.

“I’m n-“ Y/n quickly interrupts him.

“Yes! Guys, meet James, a man who is very much real, and very much my boyfriend, right?” Her hand wraps around his waist and she’s looking up at him with the act along or I’ll kill you kind of eyes. This is going to be fun.

“Yes ladies, please come in, it’s nice to meet you.” He gives them his signature smile, and as they pile into the living room, y/n pulls him aside to whisper “They can’t know I’m single.” Maybe if he wasn’t so excited about pretending to be her boyfriend, he would have heard the fact, y/n is not dating Steve.

The evening is hard to describe, because yes, the girls somewhat miss each other, however y/n can’t help, but notice the jabs they take at her for being an Avenger, and their wondering eyes at Bucky. He, on the other hand, is doing a great, too great, of a job at being her boyfriend. Anything she needs, he get up to get her, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist, before he’s pulling her onto his lap completely and to top it all, the language he’s been using is driving y/n crazy. She knows he’s enjoying this very much, but the phrases like would you like some more wine, darling? or is my baby comfortable on my lap? are affecting her more than she’d admit.

“So tell us, y/n, how did you score a man like this? I mean the constant fighting you’re doing can’t be good for that body. Does it look like a cutting board underneath the clothes?” Okay, maybe Natasha was right about them being bitches the first and the only time she met them.

“Believe me, everything is smooth and tight there.” Bucky winks, hands resting on top of her thighs; that evening he tries to say the most provocative words to keep her busy from noticing the thick bulge forming in his pants. She’s so busy at enjoying their jealous faces, it works.

Sunday

It was the most beautiful morning October in New York had to offer yet. Last night was a lot; maybe it’s time y/n reconsiders finding new friends, because to say that was exhausting is underestimating. It’s almost like y/n is on autopilot, letting her feet take her wherever they want. For better or worse, she ends up at Bucky’s favourite breakfast spot, noticing him and his girlfriend through the window. She’s mad, stuffing her things into her purse, and storming out of here, yet James is weirdly unbothered, slowly sipping his coffee; he waves his hand at her to join him when he notices y/n outside. A big plate of waffles is bound to make anyone’s morning better; they don’t talk while they eat. It’s only when the waitress refills both of their coffee mugs that y/n speaks up. “So what happened?”

“Told her this was never going to work out.”

“I’m sorry.” She’s really not. This is one of the best thing to happen all week, and besides Bucky doesn’t look sad, so it’s not bad to feel happy about it, right? He doesn’t answer her. When the waitress comes up with their check, he quickly snatches it, so y/n doesn’t have an opportunity to pay, and they both put on their jackets before leaving.

“Would you mind if we go to the Central Park for a bit? I know we have to get to the compound by 12pm, but-“

“Yes, why not, I’m sure Steve won’t get mad.” Bucky forces a smile, he won’t because you’re dating? He thinks. This is y/n he’s thinking about, so why is it so hard to just straight up ask if she’s dating Steve or not. Could it be the fact, he’s too scared to heard the words, I am? Bucky doesn’t recognise where they’re going; y/n moves through many parts of Central Park before arriving at an area he’s never seen or been in before. It’s very secluded, but how has he never been there before still blows his mind. “I love the view here.”

“Me too.” Bucky isn’t talking about the park.

“Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night, I should have told you, that they thought you were my boyfriend. I shouldn’t have been so scared to admit, that yes, I’m single, so what?” Wait what?

“What do you mean single?”

“Single, as in no boyfriend? Bucky, do you not know what single means?” y/n laughed. Oh, Bucky knew very well what that meant.

“So you’re not dating Steve?” He wanted to punch himself so hard at this very moment. What other parts of this has he missed, in fact, it totally wouldn’t of made sense for her to pretend Bucky was her boyfriend if she was dating Steve.

“No, I mean he is very attractive, but I don’t li-“ y/n turned her head to look at Bucky “why would you think I was dating Steve?” This was very confusing, however she couldn’t get excited just yet, so what that he thought she was dating Steve? It does not mean that’s the reason he never made a move on her; perhaps he didn’t even like her.

“The way you’re always touching, the looks you exchange. He’s practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“James, Steve is dating Natasha. Why else would she say she thought he was packing the most? Surely, she’s seen it.” They sat down on the only bench near by, y/n bringing her knee up to her chest out of nervousness. “Who do you think was the sexiest person in the room that night?” Bucky was avoiding her eyes.

“You.” Be a man James Barnes. “You’ve been the sexiest person in the room ever since we met.” He thought for a moment “That sounded better in my head, but you know what I mean.” Standing up, y/n pulls Bucky up with her; nerves always make her fidgety.

“Bucky, I like you.” He looks like he’s about to say something but y/n continues “I liked you being my fake boyfriend more than I should have.”

“To be honest, I was doing more than a fake boyfriend should have.” He chuckles. Taking his phone out of his jean pocket, Bucky dismisses Steve’s call, because whatever it is, can wait. “I like you too.” A comfortable silence falls between them, Bucky’s hands resting on y/n’s waist. In truth, the whole moment lasts about a couple seconds, but it feels like a lifetime to them both. Brushing the hair behind her ear, Bucky leans down and connects their lips together. It’s something worth waiting for; passionate, intense, and y/n cannot wait to run her hands through Bucky’s hair to bring him closer. “Perhaps next time they come visit, I’ll be your real boyfriend?” She does; lightly grabbing his hair she brings him closer.

“Perhaps you will.”

#bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky fluff

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lazuli-bloom · 3 years ago

Text

Roses and Styx

Chapter 1 - An Inconvenient Attachment

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5365

Sure life wasn’t always easy, it had it’s ups and downs, but you were doing alright for yourself. Mostly. However when you find a strange sight while on your lunch break one autumn afternoon, your life gets all the more unusual.

Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

The sun beat down on you, unobstructed by a single cloud in the vibrant blue sky. A pleasant breeze wafted by, chilling the heat of the sun’s kiss. Summer was in its death throes, but stayed determined to linger as long as possible. It gave an odd contrast to the scenery. The blazing warmth of a summer sun illuminating the turning leaves and tombstones on that early October afternoon.

You sat on a stone bench enjoying your lunch in the quiet peace of the graveyard. Most people avoided visits to the cemetery, not wanting to keep the company of the dead. You, however, frequented it. With few visitors and lovely Gothic inspired architecture, the cemetery made a relaxing place for lunch breaks. Plus, it was only a short walk from your job.

While there were benches throughout the graveyard, your favorite spot was one off in the corner and closest to the gate. That day, however, there had been a funeral held in that corner of the cemetery. So as not to impose, you picked a different bench to occupy. You tried to not let your gaze stay fixed on the graveside service, but the task proved to be easier said than done. The funeral repeatedly pulled your attention back to it by partly virtue of being an event you’ve rarely seen.

Many people, dressed in black, all focused on one grave. Most of the figures standing there were adults, but among the crowd were children clinging onto parents. The group was too far to get a proper look at any of the mourners, but there was one that stuck out. A man, slightly broad in build, wore a peculiar striped suit with wide vertical bars in black and white. You noted the clothing choice as strange, but tried not to judge. Perhaps he wasn’t able to get a solid black suit on short notice.

The strange pattern of the suit made it easy to pick him out against the other mourners. He didn’t stay still. He moved around, seeming to want to get other’s attention only to be ignored. The man’s bizarre actions, coupled with the indifference of the crowd, were major reasons you kept glancing back to the funeral.

You shake your head and check your phone, almost two o’clock. Time to head back to work. You grab your trash and get up with a stretch. With one last glance back to the funeral, you find the striped suit man looking back your way. You pay him no mind and check your phone once more before heading to leave.

To wring the most time and relaxation out of your lunch, you amble back to the hardware store. You turn to the next street where brick shops sat side by side. On the corner was a shop with a rounded, sun-faded green awning stretched over most of the front facade. Your eye glanced over the printed “Rose Creek Hardware” in yellow letters for what must have been the millionth time.

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside. To your left an older mustached man stood behind the front counter. He wore a light blue button down under a green apron, both tight around his rounder stomach. He gave you a warm smile that you returned.

“Back from lunch already, Cass?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice out today, I can hardly believe it’s October already.”

“Hopefully, when I get the Halloween decorations up, it’ll give things a more autumn feel.”

“Can’t wait to see it, Mr. Turner! Oh, and is Sam still here? Or have they left already?”

“They’re still around. Sam was helping the new hire.”

You nod and make your way behind the counter to retrieve your apron. After you get the strings tied, you do a sweep of the store. You found Sam in the back corner pulling merchandise forward. They didn’t notice you straight away, so you softened your footsteps for your approach. You stayed at their back until they turned enough one way that you could slip around to their side and not get caught in Sam’s peripheral. Once close enough to the shelving yourself, you slap your hands down on a bare spot- “-Missed a spot!”

Sam seized up, grabbing the shelf for support. “Geez, dude! You trying to kill me?” A wide grin breaks across your face. You chuckle to yourself as Sam regained some composure. They took a breath, shot you a glare, and got back to work.

“Heard you were training the new guy.”

“Yeah, he left already.”

“What’s he like?”

“Eh. Kinda boring? White bread personified, if you ask me. Dude came in with a dress shirt and tie.”

You shrug and start helping pull forward items. While turning products to have labels front-facing you continue on with your conversation. “Sounds like all I’ll have left to talk to will be Mr. Turner.”

There was a pause in that moment, and a sting of sorrow poked at your heart. You do your best to smother the feeling and focus on your work. It’s better to cherish the moment. You force yourself to smile and keep your chat going.

“So, there was a funeral today-”

Sam groaned and rolled their eyes at you. “You went to that creepy graveyard again? How are you not haunted?”

“Hey! I told you, it’s close by and usually quiet. I enjoy taking my lunches there. Anyway, there was a funeral and one guy there was in a weird suit with black and white stripes. Kinda like the Hamburglar.”

“I swear. You’re a magnet for the weirdest shit. It’s all those shitty movies you watch that seep into your head. How the hell do you not get nightmares?”

You stay silent and look over the product in your hand as your mind wandered back to your most recent nightmare. Piercing blue dots masked in shadow, watching every move you made. You shake your head to dismiss the thought.

You huff out a small laugh. “Guess that stuff just doesn’t get to me.”

“Whatever. Just don’t let any of your weirdness rub off on my cat.”

You press your lips into a tight line and tap your finger against the pliers in hand. “You sure there isn’t anywhere else he can go?”

“Cassie, I already told you I checked.”

“I’m just worried. I don’t think this is a good idea. My apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

“It’s just for two weeks. I’ll pick him up on the sixteenth. Hell, that’s not even a full two weeks, just thirteen days. You’ll be fine.” Sam finished with their side of the aisle and took a step back. “When do you want me to drop him off?”

You breathe out through your nose and make a noise somewhere between a hum and a groan. “Seven should be alright. Donna’s always heads out to the bars on Saturdays, so it should be clear by then.”

“You need to lighten up and not worry so much. Maybe a cute roommate is exactly what you need.”

You don’t give a reply and go back to work. The two of you split off and start tackling other sections of the store. Time marched on, and all too soon, Sam’s last shift ended. Mr. Turner bid them a farewell with a handshake and handed Sam their last paycheck. You give them a small wave and focus back on your task. You knew full well you were going to see them later that night, so you didn’t see the point of having a drawn out goodbye right then.

Once Sam left, the rest of the day dragged on slower than a sloth on crutches. When there weren’t any customers needing help, you talked with Mr. Turner. It gave you something to do, sure, but time still crawled.

That day was one of the worst kinds you can have in retail. The kind that’s just slow enough you bored out of your mind, and peppered with enough customers that you couldn’t slack off and dick around on the store’s desktop. It’s like they coordinated to space themselves out to be the most annoying.

As grueling as it took to get there, five-thirty eventually rolled around. You and the boss took the last half hour to close the store. Sweep, wipe down the counters, count the till, all that good stuff. You were in the middle of dusting when Mr. Turner handed you an envelope. You thanked him and opened it to count the bills inside. Five whole Benjamins. With another thanks, you move the bills into your wallet and get back to dusting.

Once all finished, you headed out, followed by your boss. He locked the front door and walked with you around the side to the small parking lot. He hopped into his old pickup while you climbed into your little junker. The bucket of rust masquerading as a car was on its way out, but you planned on getting every mile out of it you could. Mr. Turner had driven off by the time you coaxed your car into starting. The car sputtered and hissed, but you got the clunker going.

The drive to your apartment complex was as mundane and silent as ever. Your only option for music was to sing it yourself, since the previous owner had beaten the hell out of the radio. CDs weren’t an option either as the owner before the last had stuffed the disc slot full of cookies. For what reason remained a mystery.

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel as you drove, watching familiar sites go by as you neared your apartment. Nicer well-kept buildings and streets slowly turned to the more rundown variety. The street grew more broken and in increasingly desperate need of repairs as you went.

Building after building, you passed by until finally it was time to turn off. You pull up to your complex’s parking lot, just as run down as the roads leading to it. Two buildings sat facing each other, both in contest for which one can be the most rundown. Your building nudged ahead of its twin with the recent addition of graffiti marring the exterior.

You park in your designated spot, managing to not bump up against the two cars encroaching on your space. You worm your way out without adding anymore dents to the black sedan, and head to the complex’s front door. Standing near the door with a cigarette between clawed yellowed fingers was a scrawny older woman with a perpetual sneer on her wrinkled face. Cold steel eyes narrowed at you as you dared to approach the harpy.

“Hi Donna. How are you?”

“Parker! Where’s the rest of your rent?”

You force a smile to mask the spike of irritation. This harpy is going to be the death of you. You clear your throat to help prevent your ire from bleeding out into your tone.

“Right here, Donna. I get my pay on Saturdays.”

“Not my problem. Rent is due in full on the first. Today is the third.”

“I tried paying you last Saturday, but you-”

“The first, you stupid child. Not Before. Not after.”

“Yes Donna, I know. I’m sorry, I needed to replace a flat tire an-.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just pay the rest of your rent and get out of my sight. You worthless leech, can’t even follow basic instructions.”

You press your lips into a tighter line to keep yourself from screaming at the horrid bat. It was best to bite your tongue and get the interaction over and done with as quick as you could. You pull out your wallet and hand over four bills. It was nice while it lasted.

Donna snatched the money from you and promptly counted it. Once satisfied, she took a long drag off her cigarette. She ordered you to leave while smoke seeped out of her mouth like a dragon.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You hurried off to your apartment, climbing the stairs to the second floor and making a beeline for your door at the end of the hall.

You shut the door, leaning against it and breathed out a deep breath. After calming yourself some, you set your keys on the counter by the door and step further into your little abode.

You make your way back to the small living room and crash on the dingy brown love-seat, tossing your phone onto the stained coffee table. You lean back and stare at the ceiling. A boring white painted over heavy popcorn texture, collecting all kinds of dust. You close your eyes and let your mind wander, wanting to squeeze some relaxation time out of the rest of the day. Too bad your phone rang.

Sam called to tell you they were on their way with the cat. You told them to be careful and not let Donna see them on the off chance that she hadn’t left for the bar yet. Sam, however, brushed aside your concerns and told you not to be so worried. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned at that. Sam wasn’t the one that had to deal with Donna and hopefully never will.

It wasn’t until a long while later that there was a knock at your front door. A quick check through the peephole showed you Sam was on the other side with a backpack and pet carrier. You open the door and hurry them inside. Sam stepped in, stopping in the space between the kitchen and living area, and looked over the place.

“Wow. This place is shitty.”

“Thanks, hadn’t noticed.”

Sam set the carrier down on your couch, and the cat inside growled in a low tone. Sam took off their backpack next and handed that one over to you.

“Here’s all of Rigel’s things; food, bowls, litter box, toys. I’ll be back in town to get the last of my stuff on the sixteenth, and I’ll pay you then.”

“I thought we agreed half now and half when you got back?”

“It’ll be easier to just pay you all at once.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh and let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. It will be nice to get two hundred dollars all at once.”

“See! You fuss over the smallest things.”

You change the topic by offering Sam something to drink but they declined. Sam still needed to pack up a few more boxes before the end of the night. You nod and give a small wave goodbye, only for Sam to pull you into a hug. Your muscles tense up, but you did your best to return Sam’s sudden hug.

There was a unique funk around Sam that made the hug even more challenging to bear. An overly strong lavender tried and failed to cover some mix of sweat and burnt coffee. Sam left shortly after, telling you to just call them should you need anything. You nodded and waved them off.

Once they left, you turn to Rigel stuck in his carrier. His hissing got louder the closer you got to the carrier, and was full on slashing at the front when you reached down to open it.

You recoil and let him be for the moment, choosing to set up his things in the bathroom instead. While your bathroom was on the smaller side, it seemed big enough for one cat to stay in. You pack up all the various toiletries that a bored cat might knock down and set out Rigel’s things. Litter box in the corner across from the shower stall, while his food and water were against the opposite wall between the door and the sink.

With that set up you go get the carrier. You did your best not to jostle it too much, but Rigel wasn’t pleased and let you know. He let out some of the most chilling demonic screeches as he knocked against the fabric carrier, desperate to break loose and slaughter you. You set the carrier down in the closet, closing one of the bi-fold doors so he had a dark corner to hide in. You braced yourself with a few steadying breaths before swiftly unzipping the front. Once open, you pull your hand back and leave the bathroom completely, making sure the door shut behind you.

You did your best to salvage the rest of your night, enjoying your cup of noodles while watching a movie. It was a B-Movie slasher about a supernatural being going on a killing spree in Las Vegas. And this somehow led to the being going to space in the next film. Overall, it was pretty cheesy, but got a few laughs from you.

Soon you had to wrap things up and head to bed. You sneak into the bathroom to swipe your toothbrush and clean them at the kitchen sink that night, and probably for the next two weeks. With a yawn and a stretch you change into sleepwear and crawl into your bed.

Sleep didn’t come to you easily, but it wasn’t a night full of endless tossing and turning, either. The rest you got didn’t feel like enough, as the buzzing of your alarm woke you too early for your liking.

You sat up rubbing your eyes and checked your phone for the time. The small screen on the back of the thin flip phone showed the time was seven o’ two. You heave out a sigh and pull the warm covers off.

While your body went through the motions of your morning routine, your mind wandered back to the images you saw in your dream. An island floated in the middle of a dark ocean with storm clouds rumbling high above. The cold wet sand pricked against your bare feet like needles, yet you kept on walking. You had found yourself on a rickety dock at least fifteen feet above the violent waves below. There was nothing around you, but you knew you weren’t alone. Down below, lurking beneath the water, two hungry orbs of blue glared up at you, waiting. Expecting. When you didn’t move from your perch, the beast thrashed at the pillars of the dock. You lost your footing and tumbled down to the abyss.

You shook your head, forcing your thoughts to jump back to the present. Chills ran down your spine as the nightmare crawled around in the back of your mind, clawing its way forward. You stuffed it as far back as possible and carried on with your morning.

You soon were out the door and on your way to work. You grip the toilet paper wrapped over your forearm, letting the lines of blood soak into it so it can better rest on your arm. Rigel had given you a few nasty scratches when you got him fresh water, the ungrateful bastard. At least there’s a first aid kit at work.

The bell above the door chimed as you looked at the time on your phone. The damn cat almost made you late for work. You make your way to the back room to grab your apron, only to bump into a man turning the corner. It took a second to get your bearings and notice you ran right into Mr. Turner.

“Oh shit. Sorry, sir.”

He laughed and waved you off. “Morning Cass, see you’re in a hurry.”

“Ah- no, well, kinda. I hit every red light getting here and-”

“You’re fine, don’t worry. No need to rush. Just get your apron and I’ll introduce you to the new guy.”

You nod and scurry back to grab the green apron. It hung by itself on the hooks, speckled in paint and smudges. By that point the thing was overdue to get tossed and replaced, but the same thing would end up happening to the next apron.

You throw it on and tie it behind yourself before going out to the sales floor. Mr. Turner stood next to a man younger than himself but older than you. The boss was the first to notice you and gave another wave. “There they are.”

The new guy turned and flashed you a wide smile, showing off straight white teeth in a hollow smile. Tamping down the disquiet, you force yourself to offer a smile in return. The man strode up to you and held out a hand. “Great to meet you, I’m Brandon! Mr. Turner was just telling me how great of a worker you are-” He squinted at your apron before going back to that fake smile- “Art. Interesting name.”

“Thanks,” you said, and hesitated a moment before taking his hand for a brief shake. On contact that strange buzz of discomfort shot from your palm through the rest of your arm. Once your hand was free, you fight the urge to rub off the non-existent traces of him. There wasn’t anything there, nothing real, and you knew that, but more than anything you wanted that feeling gone and the only way for it to leave was to brush it off. Why did people have to insist on handshakes, just needless physical contact with strangers? It’s stupid, and you hated it.

For the first half of your shift the boss had you go over the day-to-day tasks with Brandon. There were few customers in the store that Sunday morning, so you mostly had the guy pull forward merchandise and clean some shelves. Brandon did the tasks, but they all came with questions. Most of the questions were mundane things about the products stocked, store hours, and what times saw the most customers. The problem came when Brandon veered his questions towards you personally.

“So, is Art short for anything?”

“Artemis.”

Your answer was short and pointed. You already didn’t like that he was the type to read name tags over asking for someone’s name.

“Interesting. So you from around here?”

A shiver shot through you, and you’re quick to stop that line of questions. You ignore the question entirely, instead cutting in to tell him to finish front-facing the aisle while you go check on Mr. Turner.

The day dragged on until finally getting to your lunch break. Brandon, thankfully, caught on that you weren’t one to disclose much about yourself to a new face. However, that didn’t make the morning smooth sailing. You grab your lunch and speed off to the cemetery, eager to get a break from Brandon.

Your usual bench was free, and you took your place to enjoy lunch. Munching on your meal, you take in the sights, finding a serenity in the quiet. The sun shined brightly, causing some of the glossier headstones to reflect the rays. You hum to yourself and scan over the graveyard. To your surprise, you spotted someone in the far corner opposite you. Your brows furrowed, perplexed by the other. You watched the figure, curious of what they’re doing.

They wandered from gravestone to gravestone, kicking at the earth with hands stuffed into pockets. The build of the figure suggested a man, and one dressed in monochrome. You squint your eyes at them making sure you weren’t mistaken; but no, that was the same bizarre suit you saw a man wearing the day prior.

You keep your gaze fixed on him, wanting to figure out why he might be here a second day in a row visiting completely different graves. Did the man simply like to visit graveyards and have a limited wardrobe? If so, you didn’t want to comment on the matter out of fear of shattering the glass house.

You ate lunch with glances at the man. You wanted to piece together why he might be there. He wasn’t mourning; he moved from one grave to the next as if searching for something. The man in the weird suit went down one row of graves, heading away from you, only to hit the end and turn back for the next row.

You forced yourself to not look at him for fear of getting caught. But your curiosity burned, and you chanced a look up. He didn’t notice you, too engrossed in whatever he was doing. Embolden by that, you continue to munch away at your food and sneak glances at him. That is, until you swallowed wrong and went into a coughing fit.

You got your breathing under control a minute later and checked to see if he noticed. And oh boy, did he notice. The man was staring straight at you. It was awkward enough to get caught looking, but you noticed the man closing the gap between you two. He was still at the far end with well over two hundred feet between you, but you didn’t want to stick around and have that plummet to single digits.

Nope. You scoop up your belongings and speed-walk straight back to the store. You didn’t even chance a look behind you. Eyes forward and keep moving. You weren’t sure if he was actually still following; you didn’t hear any footsteps behind you. So that seemed like a good sign.

You blew past the door, bell violently chiming, and you made a beeline for the back. Your heart pounded against your ribs, wanting to break free and make a run for it. You take quick breaths, forcing the next to be longer than the last to get yourself to calm down. In the middle of collecting yourself, Mr. Turner walked into the back area with worry knitted on his brow.

“Cass, you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Is there a man in a striped suit in the store?”

He gave you a puzzled look, but left to do a sweep of the store. He came back half a minute later, shaking his head. “No, no one’s in the store dressed like that. What happened?”

“Nothing really. I just saw him in the cemetery and it looked like he was starting to follow me.”

He frowned. “Well, you just come to me if any creep is giving you a hard time. I’ll knock his teeth out for you.”

You manage a smile and nod. You take a few more breaths to calm down before you grab your apron. Things were going to be okay. The guy might not have even seen what store you went into. Heck, that guy probably didn’t even leave the cemetery. And even if he did, Mr. Turner was there to help you out of a tight spot. You smile a little brighter and step out onto the sales floor where you see the stripe suit guy looking at paint chips.

A strangled scream catches in your throat. You step back, dipping back into the employee’s only area of the store before he could see you. What the Hell were you going to do now? You couldn’t hide back there all day.

You push aside the fabric curtain dividing the sales floor from the back, and get a look at the man. With him much closer, you could see his green hair and the distressed look of his suit. He leaned forward, looking over the paint colors. Maybe he didn’t know you were back there. If so, you could wait in the back for a few minutes for him to just leave.

You close the curtain and slip your hands into your apron pockets. Your fingers brush over cool metal, and your thumb flicks up the slider on the side. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly better than nothing. Box cutter in hand, you look back out.

The stranger stayed put in front of the paint colors. You take a shallow breath, prepping yourself to go out. In the middle of psyching yourself up, you see Brandon wander over to the paint section. Hope bubbles up in you. The new guy can take care of him for you.

Brandon scanned over the section. He pushed down some color chips, looked over the desk before looking your way.

“Art! There you are.”

Brandon’s voice bellowed in the small store, not only earning a squeak from you but also causing the stranger to turn and look. You yank the curtain closed, hoping the man in the monochrome stripes didn’t get a good look at you.

Brandon parted the curtain a moment later and looked you over with knit brows and lips in a thin line. “Art, what are you doing back here? I don’t think it looks very professional for an employee to skulk around in the back all day.”

“The guy over at paint followed me from the cemetery.”

Brandon raised a brow at you. “There aren’t any customers in the store, and certainly not in paint, I would have seen them.” He pulled open the curtain with a flourish to reveal the man standing just on the other side. “See, no one’s there.”

Your eyes dart between the idiot holding back the curtain and the green-haired man tilting his head some with a grin plastered on his face. Thought processing came to a crawl as you tried making sense of what you were seeing. Your gaze lands on Brandon in the end.

“You don’t see anyone there?”

He rolled his eyes and looked back out to the sales floor. He then looked back at you with brows knitted further. “No, there’s no one there, Artemis. Perhaps you should stop taking your lunches in the cemetery if they’re just going to put scary thoughts in your head.”

Brandon frowned at you before stepping out onto the sales floor, going right through the man in the striped suit. He stopped to shiver, only to keep walking a second later. Once he left, your wide eyes landed on the man still standing there, still grinning and showing off sharp yellowed teeth.

“Hi there!”

Nope. Nope nope nope. You grab your box cutter and pull it out to point at the guy. And without a word you push aside the curtain more and go around the man. The man whined at your action and followed you.

“Come on babes! Don’t ignore me, I know you can see me!”

You keep walking, heading straight for Mr. Turner. He turns to you at your approach and the small smile fades from his face. “Cass? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The gravelly laugh behind you sent shivers down your spine. You did your best to shake off the feeling and forced a smile.

“I’m not feeling too good. I was hoping I could go home early today.”

His lips sink further into a frown, but he gave you a nod. “It’s fine by me. But what about that man you were talking about that followed you from the cemetery? Are you going to be okay?”

The man behind you continued to laugh. You tighten your hands into fists, the metal of the box cutter pressing hard into the flesh of your hand.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay Mr. Turner. See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, and you handed over your apron while keeping the box cutter in hand. You offer one last quick goodbye and head out the door, the bell only chiming once. You march down the sidewalk and hear the strange man continuing to talk.

“So, babes, where are we heading?”

You pause at your car door. You take a few quick breaths and finally respond to this... person. “I’m going home. I’m obviously not feeling well and seeing things that aren’t there.”

You slip into your car and promptly lock all the doors. You heave a sigh and lean against the steering wheel as your brain sorts through all this nonsense. A groan rumbles in your throat and you lean back in your seat. In your peripheral, the man in the striped suit sat in your passenger seat sporting a sharp grin. Well shit.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years ago

Note

Yandere (Freddy/Beetlejuice) being obsessed with a girl who makes it pretty clear she's far from interested (like "good sir if you come any closer you WILL be struck with a baseball bat").

I hope you like these! They were fun! Heheh, I got a bit dark, so I hope you like that ^^

Warnings: Hah… so… this does get kinda NSFW? Not explicitly or even really descriptively, but it’s worth mentioning. So yeah, sexual harassment, and also talk about reader getting traumatised and twisted.

~~~

Okay so there’s a lot here that we can say for them both BJ and Freddy. Here’s a section for those things:

This, a person not being interested and trying to get away, is of course not new to either of them. In fact, they enjoy it. They’re both nasty lil’ freaks that enjoy seeing you uncomfortable, scared and forcing a translucent brave face on. “That’s my (Insert affectionate nickname like Princess, Pumpkin, Biscuit, etc)’

Nothing is sacred for you. They just love to turn up at the most inconvenient and uncomfortable times (Getting changed, in class / at work, at a family dinner or reunion, on a date, etc) and they absolutely love to twist your most innocent and/or beloved interests into something horrible and gross that will forever remind you of him. They do this by making jokes about it, literally popping out of it, and incorporating it somehow when they’re hurting you. (I’ll elaborate on this more in Freddy’s section- he’s more for the psychological torture then BJ is)

You get many unsolicited compliments.

Hit him with said baseball bat and he’ll:

o Beetlejuice: Ask you to do it again. If you’re into that kind of kinky stuff, he’s totally on board!

o Freddy Krueger: Break it and decide he needs to punish you.

Beetlejuice:

BJ doesn’t have a level 0, no. He just blinks right past that, and number 2-99 as well. He’s a hundred, and then possibly a thousand if you get him drinking.

Don’t do that.

The fact that you aren’t interested and keep trying to get away from him (I mean, you do escape him a lot because he’s spacey and frazzly-brained, but never for long. He gets distracted briefly and then when you’ve relaxed with a relaxing book or something else for some lovely, long-awaited non-Beetlejuice related time, he pops up again in place of your chair and its very, very awkward when you slowly notice the warm, sort of damp feeling of his belly, chest and legs and the, seemingly perpetual bulge in his trousers.) isn’t a new concept for him. But he doesn’t take the hint, either. He’s nasty and he likes to be the bane of people’s existences.

Especially you! ~ You’re his fave! Congrats.

Every rebuff and nasty look you give him makes him ‘love’ you even more. Mm, sexy.

Not the type to chain you up anywhere or kidnap you (Except for frequent day trips- he’ll always take you back home though). No, no. He makes your regular, everyday life difficult instead, by popping up at school (And I mean University. Or at the very least year 12) or work, at lunch dates, at the shops (Changing rooms come to mind), etc. You’re the only one who can see him, like Lizzie and Drop Dead Fred, but he can touch things and make a whole mess and you’ve been kicked out of shops, restaurants and classes for, not just being noisy, or disrupting people, no- The words used most often are ‘wreaking havoc’.

He just pops up, and he doesn’t care at all what you’re doing- he’ll take one look at it and make some ‘fun’ out of it. Steal things (Like lollies, pills, condoms, and smokes and alcohol- yes, he will smash glass and pop behind counters to grab shit) and shove them down your clothes to hide it (Which is loud and obvious and you get caught), massacre a prized garden to get you flowers (Roots, worms and dirt still intact) to serenade you with (song and dance included and, of course, improvised) which distracts you entirely and makes you unresponsive or weird to people who cant see him, flicker the channels on a TV you’re watching with some friends and turn on a porn channel when the remote is in your hands, or just outright try to ravage you right there in the middle of class. What does he care what happens? Getting you frustrated and embarrassed is half the fun.

Freddy is not the only one that has you waking up with markings or changed in some way, nay. BJ changes your clothes in your sleep- usually to his signature black and white stripes.

Your continued braveness and the fact that you refuse to give in to him and just give up entirely… uhh, well, it turns him on. Hence the perpetual bulge in his pants around you.

(And he is around you MUCH. OF THE. TIME.)

Freddy Krueger:

Like said in the first section, this is not a brand new kinda situation for him. In fact, he prefers it, likes it this way. Especially seeing as you’re strong and won’t give up trying to get away. Gives him a chance to use his… you know… whole personality, and full abilities, to break you. And once he has, you’ll be his little pet.

Look, before we get into the nightmare of it all, I’ll say this for you: At least you wake up. For BJ, he can come and get Reader whenever he wants (And he does). Freddy’s at least confined to the dream world.

But, of course, the dream world also does offer its own advantages for your antagonist. Because, as we all well know, Freddy can conjure, be or make up anything he wants. The sky is not the limit- its but a suggestion. Which brings us to this horrendous thing that he loves to do to you.

Beetlejuice takes the place of the chair you’re sitting in- Freddy takes place of your crush. He sets up neat little dreams for you where you’re with your crush (It could be real life, celebrity, or fictional. Whatever. Just someone you’re attracted to and have innocent feelings towards that he can warp, distort and pervert. Nothing is sacred here) and then at the last moment, like a reverse froggy prince kind of deal, your crush turns into Freddy and he has some terrible pun and he kisses you, and it’s all very shocking and unpleasant. And you never see it coming because you’re dreaming. No, it’ll always be just as horrifying.

Its not just people you have warm, fuzzy feelings for that he perverts and distorts, no. Hobbies that make you feel at peace, that he knows make you feel safe and forget about him for a little while. You better hope he doesn’t find out about things like that because if he does discover that, that you’re enjoying a peaceful and hopeful moments, he’ll figure out how to immediately crush that. Conjure up a nightmare for you where all you can paint or draw or write about are horrible memories about him or where you can’t help but obey him and literally destroy the special object that maybe your parents gave you, or you got yourself at a hard time that reminds you that you’ll be okay in any way, with your own two hands.

Because that’s what Freddy does, its why he’s scary- he takes something so comforting that we know will always be there for us and take us away from the world for a little bit like sleep and our snuggly beds and ruins it.

There aren’t many mornings that you wake up without a new cut or bruise or other kind of mark. He once took a dream permanent marker and wrote his name across your forehead in thick font and that materialised in real life for a whole 3 days.

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laurawritesandgames · 4 years ago

Text

For Beetlelands Week 2020

Title: Write Like the Wind

Fandom: Beetlejuice (Musical)

Rating: T

Ships: Beetlejuice/Adam/Barbara

Prompt: One Bed

Summary: Adam wants to do something for nerd-kind now that he has ghostly powers. Beetlejuice and Barbara help out. Spoilers for The Winds of Winter.

When Beetlejuice returned from the Netherworld, he came back powerful. Barbara wasn’t exactly sure how—the story changed with each telling.

But he returned with enough power to teleport her and Adam pretty much anywhere he could visualize. Thanks to Google Street View, he could visualize quite a few things.

Being able to teleport was very helpful when Adam had a specific request.

The ghosts and demon appeared inside a very fancy home, with sunlight streaming in the windows. Beetlejuice was hovering between Barbara and Adam, holding their hands. Barbara suspected this wasn’t strictly part of his teleportation ability, but it was a nice excuse to hold hands.

The demon shimmered in and out briefly, wincing.

“Everything okay?” Barbara asked.

“Teleporting all the way to New Mexico is a lot. We’re definitely gonna need to stop by a bolt-hole on the way back.” According to Beetlejuice, undead travellers could recharge in places with a lot of “death energy”—graveyards, usually, or famous battlefields.

The clicking of a keyboard drew the three of them to an office where a large, grey-haired man sat in front of his computer.

Adam sucked in a breath. “There he is,” he whispered.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. “Sexy, you’re dead. He can’t hear you.” Sure enough, the writer hadn’t turned around at the sound of Beetlejuice’s voice.

“Oh.” Adam looked a bit disappointed. “I guess I just assumed that he’d be attuned to the supernatural. He’s a master of the sci-fi/fantasy genre! Anyway, let’s go see what he’s working on.” He crossed his fingers as the three of them huddled around the author’s computer screen.

Barbara felt a bit awkward reading over someone’s shoulder, and looked politely aside. She’d never gotten into sci-fi and fantasy the way Adam had; he’d know better than she would what they were looking at.

Her husband’s face fell. “Wild Cards?!” he spluttered. “Wild freaking Cards! I know he only edits the anthologies, but they’re a distraction!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Just write the books, George!”

“I can take over his computer and threaten to start deleting files until the books are done!” Beetlejuice crowed. “Make it seem like he’s got a computer virus!”

Adam’s gaze flicked between Beetlejuice and the author’s computer a few times.

Barbara cleared her throat.

“No, of course not,” Adam said quickly. “Thanks for saving me from myself, sweetie.” He kissed her cheek. He focused on the author, holding out his hand. “Sorry about this.”

The author stopped what he was doing. He saved then exited out of the document. Adam searched through the computer files for a moment then made the author open up a document titled The Winds of Winter.

The document opened after a few moments. ‘Want to pick up where you left off?’ Word asked helpfully, and the author clicked on it. There were a bunch of unfamiliar words and names on the page that showed up.

No sense in me reading this. Barbara decided to look around a famous author’s office. She’d expected him to have a bunch of memorabilia from the TV show, but the furnishings were really quite ordinary. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of bookshelves filled with books.

There was silence from the author, whose fingers were poised over the keyboard.

“C’mon, Sexy, get writing.” Beetlejuice hovered in mid-air, bobbing slightly. He was also eyeing the author’s office, but he was probably wondering where to put spiders.

“Er, there’s no way I can give him partial control, can I? I can’t write the next book!”

“Not how it works, newb.”

Adam sighed. “Okay. Um, my thoughts definitely won’t be his, but maybe I can make a start. Barbara, you took that course in creative writing in college, right? Do you have any tips?” Adam was an amazing man with many good qualities, but pure creativity wasn’t one of them.

“I can try, but I wasn’t writing award-winning fantasy novels back in college.” Barbara dredged up some memories of the TV show. “Maybe you should make the White Walkers show up! You know, inject some tension.”

“It’s an Arianne Martel chapter.”

Barbara had no idea what that meant. “Um…have a dragon show up?”

“I appreciate the thought, but Arianne is going to treat with Young Griff, and the entire point is that he’s a supposed Targaryen that doesn’t have dragons.”

Beetlejuice spoke up. “Have some brothers and sisters bone. Shove a little smut in there.”

“Not only does that not work in this chapter, I’m also not comfortable with that.”

“Or skip to a Dany chapter,” Barbara suggested. “I just want good things for her. How’s she doing, anyway?”

“Not well.” Adam made the author pull up a Dany chapter. He watched the blinking cursor for a few moments, frowning in thought.

Beetlejuice added, “You could write a bunch of dialogue in what’s basically a white room and see where it takes you. That’s an A-plus writing strategy, right there.”

Adam sighed, rubbing his forehead. After a few more moments of intense concentration, he looked away from the computer screen.

The author shook his head, blinking a few times.

“Maybe just having the document open will prompt him to write?” Adam asked hopefully.

The author closed out of The Winds of Winter and went back to a document called Wild Cards_edits.

Adam’s shoulders slumped.

Beetlejuice hovered closer. “Just casually mentioning that we can take out the phone, snap some pics of these new chapters, and threaten to leak them if he doesn’t write the books.”

“Photos of chapters over his shoulder?” Barbara said. “That’s pretty terrifying.”

The demon chuckled darkly.

“Ah. And that was exactly the point.” Beetlejuice might have changed a lot since his return from the Netherworld, but his love of fear and chaos that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“No, Beetlejuice,” Adam said. “It wouldn’t work anyway. What kind of writing would you get if someone was bullied into it?”

“Bleh, you’re no fun. Where to next, Sexy? That Rothfuss guy?”

“Let’s just go home.”

“Have to make a quick stop first, but okay.” Beetlejuice grabbed their hands and teleported them away.

They landed in someplace pitch black. Beetlejuice lit a match of neon green fire, revealing a small underground crypt barely large enough for the three of them. Every surface was draped with dust and cobwebs. A half-open coffin showed patchy, stained velvet. If there was a door to this crypt, the match didn’t reveal it.

Beetlejuice tilted his head. “Ahhh, that’s better.” He frowned slightly, as if listening to something. Barbara couldn’t hear anything. “Yep, think it’s still sandworm free! Lemme just recharge for a while.”

“You’ve been here before?” she asked.

“Nah, but I saw drawings from some ghost hunters back in the Netherworld. Ghost hunters can go topside to bring ghosts back, and they need places to rest, too.”

“So, ghost hunters are ghosts who hunt other ghosts?”

“Yeah, and they’re the worst. The Bureau of the Dead won’t let anyone go topside unless they’re a boot-licker. But it was good to know a few of their tricks when I got banished up here.”

Barbara glanced at Adam, who normally would’ve loved Netherworld lore. It wasn’t every day that Beetlejuice opened up about a place that was, in his words, “total Meh-ville.” But Adam wasn’t even listening. The gloomy atmosphere of the crypt fit his gloomy expression perfectly.

“Hey,” Barbara said softly. When Adam turned her way, she squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to.”

“I guess art just has to happen at its own pace. You can’t force it. I just feel bad for all the other dead readers who’ll never get to read the end of the series. All they’ll have is the TV show’s ending.” He snorted in disgust.

“Maybe you planted a seed. Who knows? Inspiration is a funny thing.”

“And there’s always fanfic,” Beetlejuice added.

“It’s not the same,” Adam said with a sigh.

“Heh, speaking of fanfic….” Beetlejuice hopped into the coffin. “Oh noooo. There’s only one bed!”

Barbara and Adam stared at him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Beetlejuice huffed. “Oh, come on. None of you ever read a romance fic? Hell, a romance novel?”

“No,” Adam said.

“Not really my thing,” Barbara added. She was a fan of biographies and autobiographies of famous people, personally. “And, also? Not a bed. It’s a coffin. And sleeping in a coffin is also not my thing.”

“Jesus, so picky.” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and the coffin became their bed at home. “Get over here.” He hesitated then said, “Please.” Barbara and Adam had had conversations with him about asking instead of demanding; happily, it looked like those conversations were sticking.

Beetlejuice had just done them a huge favour, and a little cuddling might cheer Adam up. Barbara went to join Beetlejuice, shooting a questioning glance at Adam. He followed them, though he was still brooding.

She and Beetlejuice let Adam slide between them as the three sorted themselves out. (Sometimes, Beetlejuice would throw in extra limbs or a few clones just for the added challenge.) After some scooching and wriggling, Barbara’s cheek rested on Adam’s shoulder as she stroked his chest gently and held his left hand. Beetlejuice had one arm over the two of them and was, for some reason, nibbling on Adam’s hair, which sometimes became kissing the top of his head. After a while, you got used to a certain amount of weirdness.

Gradually, Adam began to relax. First, the tension left his shoulders. Then, he cracked his neck and his jaw untightened. (He’d needed to wear a mouthguard when he slept when he was alive. He was always grinding his teeth.)

“Maybe…” he murmured. “Maybe I could write the ending to the books. It’ll be fanfic, but it’ll be something, at least. I can work on that project while the Deetzes are asleep. I’ve never written fic before, but I could try. It’s not like I need to eat or sleep. And I’ve been looking for a new project ever since I finished the model.” His model of the town had a place of pride in the attic, which the Maitlands had cleaned out and repurposed into an arts and crafts room. They still kept up with their hobbies, but they had fewer now that they were busy rehabilitating Beetlejuice and parenting Lydia.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, hon.” Barbara kissed his cheek. “I’ll help however I can.”

“And I can tell you all about what fic tropes you can put in!” Beetlejuice said. “Or what fic tropes we can do ourselves.” He must’ve been thinking about some sexual ones, for he chortled and squeezed Adam’s butt. “Gotta keep the rating PG-13 for Beetlelands Week, but…you know which ones.” He winked at no one in particular, it seemed. Sometimes, he pretended he had an audience; Barbara and Adam just ignored it.

Beetlejuice moved to nuzzling Adam’s throat. After a few moments, he began patting Barbara’s hair.

Barbara giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to be recharging?”

“It’s called multitasking, baby.” Idly, he commented, “Shit, fluff is hard to end. How do you even end something that by its nature has low stakes and minimal conflict?”

What was he talking about? Barbara shrugged.

Adam thoughtfully said, “Maybe with a kiss?”

“Hah!” Barbara couldn’t help but grin when Beetlejuice laughed like that. This wasn’t an evil cackle or a dark chuckle, but an open, cheerful sound that she’d been hearing more and more since they’d started dating. “Perfect! You’re so ready to be a fic writer, Sexy!”

Beetlejuice kissed Adam on the lips, and the cuddling in a false bed in an underground crypt continued.

Not for the first time, Barbara reflected, My afterlife is so weird.

But it did have its perks.

#beetlelandsweek2020 #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #beetlelands #adam maitland #barbara maitland #adam x barbara x beetlejuice

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heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

Text

IV. The First Taste*

Summary: NSFW Chapter. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy!

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

Since you kissed Steve Rogers in your classroom on that Thursday afternoon, you’ve kissed him again and again after each meeting. It’s been precisely two more lunch dates, one more dinner date, and one long walk in the park on his day off before he was suddenly called in for an emergency pastry situation. That’s five kisses. Five dates. Five moments you lie in bed and think about while trying desperately not to scream.

You scold yourself every time because a part of you is embarrassed that you’re so—thirsty! But good God, the man is a tall glass of water you want to drown in. It’s been two stupid years since you’ve kissed anyone, and when you’re in bed at night, you hope that it’s not your lack of practice that’s been keeping him from moving forward.

You can’t be that bad, right? … Right?

But it’s always you who initiates, and Steve always keeps it short and sweet. Once, you felt the slightest flick of his tongue against your bottom lip, but then as quickly as he’d done it, he pulled away.

Grumbling, you press your pillow over your face and punch it a couple of times before settling back down into bed. You peer at the back of your hand in the darkness of your room and contemplate on trying it just like you used to when you were a kid. God, this feels stupid.

Tomorrow, you’ll just ask. Because you’re both adults and because he was your… boyfriend. You smother yourself with the pillow again, because that was an even more mortifying thought than making out with your own hand.

In the morning you go for a jog and make yourself a quick protein and fruit shake breakfast afterward. Then you head to the pool for about an hour before coming back home. Everything is quiet, and the world is peaceful, now that you don’t have the lives of twenty-five children hovering over your every waking moment. You shower and lie down on the couch before turning on a baking show. Looking around, you survey your apartment. It is so damn barren and cream-colored. You’re not strong nor brave enough to go get a bunch of furniture by yourself and start arranging.

Sighing, you settle on an easier task: maybe today you’ll go buy some houseplants.

Steve texts you a picture of a cheesecake around noon as you’re spraying water into the soil of two new succulents and a hanging fern. You show him your fern, placing your hand next to it for size reference. The messages between you are short and brief, since you see each other pretty often.

Summer break unravels you a little bit, but you’ll be damned if you let your new (very adult) boyfriend know. You play video games and browse the internet with a bottle of wine on the weekends, and your summer is just a giant weekend. It’s almost troubling, really, because every summer you have to either find a new hobby to keep yourself entertained.

Last year you took up rock-climbing and baked a lot… but with Steve around, that just seemed like a good way to get laughed at. And of course, the summer before that one was spent moving out of your ex’s apartment and trying to keep your head above water. You shudder at the thought. If it wasn’t for the very fortuitous call back from your current workplace, you would have probably had to move back home or continued spiraling into credit-card debt.

You text Steve, asking him to suggest a new hobby to you.

Right away, he responds and recommends that you join his watercolor session at the bakery:

I’m teaching a two-hour workshop Sunday after we close. The sign up sheet is already full but… it helps knowing the teacher personally doesn’t it? I do a ceramics one in the winter, too!

You blink.

Steve… I can only draw if I invoke the spirit of Other Steve from Blue’s Clues.

Oh perfect, now he’s calling.

“Yes?” You answer. His laughter is ringing on the other line.

“Hey! Blue’s Clues is an excellent show! And, I gotta admit, that guy can really draw.”

You huff and sputter at him, “Stop messin’ with me. Last year I baked a lot but now that you’re here… I really need a new hobby- a doable hobby!”

He chuckles again before his voice grows quieter. Bossa nova plays in the background, and the coffee grinder is buzzing intensely. “Oh honey,” He whispers, and you’re nearly gasping at the way his voice sounds—low, deliberate—like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Come to the workshop, won’t ya? It’s just a beginner’s thing. I think you’ll really like it. For me?”

The quick-draw refusal you were so sure you could unholster on time is nowhere to be found, not with him asking you so sweetly like that. You grouse jokingly and accept, warning him that if he laughs at your unskilled hand, you’ll never take his advice again.

“Me? Laugh at you? Never, sweetheart. I can’t believe you would think that of me.”

“Oh hush, Steven.”

A puff of air escapes him and everything grows quiet. Steve mutters something you can’t quite make out, and then, even louder than before, the coffee grinder screeches. “Everything okay?” You ask, worried.

“Yeah. Um, yeah. Everything’s good.”

You’re suddenly reminded of the way he pulls away after a good night kiss and reach to unholster that gun.

“Hey—uh wha—why do you--- um.” What the hell is the right way to ask this question? Why have our tongues not fought for dominance? Why haven’t both my hands gotten lost in the front of your button-up shirt? Why have you not pressed your hard, broad chest against me?

Maybe you’ve been reading too much Cosmo or Buzzfeed Relationships in your quest to find the right answers.

“Huh?” Steve asks. “What’s that?”

You holster the gun.

“Nothing! Ha! I’ll see you Sunday!”

“Okay, hon… See you then. Don’t be nervous! It’ll be great!”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you place your phone on the coffee table. Crisis averted. Then, you search for basic video tutorials on watercolors as well as tips for beginning artists on your phone before casting it to the T.V. It’s entirely baffling and when you pick up a pencil and try to draw your new succulent on a nearby notepad, the voice coming through the speaker sternly states that you should “make marks deliberately-- not fiddling about with sketchy, hairy lines like a fuzzy caterpillar!”

What you’ve been working on looks exactly like a fuzzy caterpillar, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

So you try again, erasing furiously before attempting those “deliberate” lines. After nearly fifteen minutes, you sit back and peer at your creations.

“Jesus.”

Your smooth, plump, glossy plant looks like one of those inflatable tubes outside of an auto dealership in the middle of deflating.

You feel deflated, too.

Over your dinner table is a corkboard of photos and postcards, and you walk over to snag Steve’s thank you card from its place in the corner. You study his technique and peer at the delicate forest green line of each stem- just a single, continuous stroke. The petals seem to be merely blobs of color if you’re looking closely, and where the flowers touch, sometimes the pigments bleed over each other.

No, it’s not a perfect thing. But it is gorgeous, still.

So, you try… again. This time, you tear off the deflated succulent drawing and place it on your coffee table in the left corner. Just for good luck, you chant “Steve, Steve, Steve!” as if he’s Beetlejuice, and get to work. Half your brain is thinking of the striped green shirt and oversized crayon, and the other half is thinking of a striped blue shirt and oversized pecs. Either way, both of them could art.

You’ve drawn all year for your students- especially your ESL kids who struggled with codeswitching. Sometimes, when they were unable to find the right word, or you were, you’d draw a picture instead. According to twenty-five first graders, you were an amazing artist, so… what the hell!

Ten minutes later, you tear off the top of the notepad and set it down next to its brother.

The two are stark differences, and your second one is little bit better. You’re almost proud of it—smooth flowing lines, rounded edges, and even a flat plane of the table to ground the pot.

Sitting back, you click around some more, making sure to choose videos that are most helpful to your current ability. Those speed-up painting videos were hella tempting, but you do not want to get lost in the rabbit hole.

Sunday is two days away. At the very least, you were going to be able to draw a damn good succulent.

---

You come in early to help him close before the workshop begins. Cap&Co. closes on Sundays right at six, and the workshop would start half an hour later.

The baristas say hello to you and smile, and you do the same back before you grab a rag and spray a counter down. The leftover pastries and sandwiches are placed on a tray and put in the middle of the room, where the tables and chairs have been pushed together by Steve.

“Snacks!” He smiles, “For the students.”

“Does that make me your student too?” You tease, finding the situation a bit ironic.

He winks at you before hanging up his apron. Between the four of you and the work that’s left, it’s quickly finished in the next ten minutes and the employees leave, wishing you a good night as they go.

Steve lets you choose the music for the night as he brightens the lights, and you randomly scroll through the shop’s selection before picking an old album you used to like as a younger girl—Fiona Apple’s 1996 Tidal. Right away, the singer’s brassy voice catches his attention.

“Who is this?” He asks excitedly, “I think I heard her on the radio the other day!”

You tell him, and he nods along to the music as he sets out sheets of watercolor paper clipped neatly on boards. Then he lays out five travel-sized round palettes already filled with an array of colors. By the time all the paintbrushes are next to each clipboard, people are starting to arrive and Steve is back and forth saying hello and giving hugs. You finish the end of the preparation and fill up heavy mason jars with water and set them at each spot. Then, you take your seat with a cake pop and eagerly and watch him lead the demonstration.

“Thanks for coming, everyone!” He smiles widely at the end of the table. “Good to see some of you again!”

This must be what your students feel like, you think—you hope, because you are absolutely enthralled with everything that pours from his mouth. Even the way he stumbles over his words fascinates you, and the fact that he is so animated and engaged makes you love it even more.

Steve tells the group that he’ll demonstrate for about twenty-five minutes before everyone can start either trying out various techniques, or if they’ve done it before, can begin on painting whatever they please and he’ll come around to offer help. He suggests the plants for a nice still life, or other knick-knacks around the shop. Some returning students have even brought their own objects and you want to pinch yourself because you could have brought your succulent!

Then, he begins, showing you the right way to load the paintbrush with paint and water, and how water tension is so important to the medium. He shows you the difference between a wet brush and a dry brush. He shows you how to layer the colors. Your brain can hardly keep up with your eyes as they enthusiastically soak up the colors over his paper and the way his wrist moves easily back and forth from the mason jar where he cleans the bristles, to the palette saturated with pigment, to the paper where strokes are being placed.

“Here is a quick and easy way to make a flower.”

Steve loads a fat brush with water and pulls two shades of orange onto the white of the palette. In one swift motion, he streaks a daub of it onto the paper, letting the water gather more heavily on one side.

“We’ll let that dry for just a second— but we can do this for now.” He presses the tip of the brush into a tiny bit of red and makes another mark similar to the first one. The edges of the paint that touches leaks into each other, creating a tiny blossom of red into the first petal.

“This is what will happen when your paint is still wet—but that’s okay!” He makes two more petals—slightly more yellow than the last and touches his finger to the one with the accidental red bloom.

“It’s pretty dry now.” He blows softly on it for good measure and mixes a rosy coral shade into his brush.

The last petal is swept over the first, and the overlapping area where they touch turns into a vibrant shade of ripe orange. Then, quickly, he sticks the wood handle of the brush sideways between his teeth and picks up a smaller brush, wetting it, loading it with a deep purple that’s almost black, and makes a spray of dots in the middle.

“There ya go!” He takes the brush out of his mouth.

A part of you thinks that you are fucked because you may have just fallen in some deep shit here, as you stare at him, grinning widely—so proud of himself and somehow proud of you, too, for listening.

He’s made it seem impossibly easy. An absurdly beautiful blossom from his imagination stares at you from the watercolor pad in his hand as you shakily pick up the brush next to your hand.

“Well… shit, Steve.” You whisper before breaking out into a silly laugh and putting your forehead into your palm at the thought of the herculean task at hand. The woman to your right laughs along with you as she makes scribbly marks and drips globules of blue water onto her paper. Steve beams at you lovingly as you try to imitate the way he made the first petal, steering the water where you want it to go.

It doesn’t.

But you’re determined, damn it. Because one, you really want to impress him, and two, you really need a summer hobby.

The next hour flies by as you paint diligently, occasionally humming along to Fiona Apple’s resonant vocals in the background, chatting with the other painters. They’re all regulars at Cap&Co., and they adore the Rogers family.

Steve circles the room and answers questions, giving pointers, and sometimes putting his hand over yours to lead your paintbrush. He even kisses you on the top of your head when you finish your first flower—a lavender five-petaled ...cephalopod.

The affectionate gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the others as they smile and quietly ask him questions when they think you’re not listening. Your ears go hot the rest of the night—just as hot as the top of your head because Steve!

Before you know it, it’s time to pack up. The album has already repeated, and it’s back to an early track. No one seems to mind, however, as they take their papers and wave goodbye. You linger in the area, pouring out dirty water and putting the jars back under the sink. Steve puts away the paints, fixes the rest of the tables, and you return to the café area to join him. He’s patting his thighs with his wet hands when you come in, nodding along to the music.

You gaze at the damp spots on his legs, the fabric of his trousers slightly clinging onto his muscles. Quickly, before he sees you, you look away.

“This exact song was on in the car.” He mutters amusedly, “I really like this… she’s got a great voice.”

Steve walks closer to you, stopping a few steps away and leans against the edge of a wooden booth. He crosses his arms and press his lips together, eyelashes fluttering as he smiles.

“What now?” He asks. His voice echoes the same low and deliberate tone you’ve heard before, and you think that the question isn’t really a question at all. But you’re not really sure what to make of it—tonight may have been the most forward he’s ever been.

The lights are dimmed. The piano melody crescendos before the song ends. There’s a pause of silence before the next song begins, and you feel your heart leap as the first few words start.

I lie in an early bed, thinking late thoughts.

“Um…” Your voice cracks.

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught. But daddy long-legs, I feel that I’m finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you.

Steve cocks his head to the side, also listening—to the music, perhaps to your now uncomfortably loud heartbeat. You run your hand through your hair. The music chimes into a more upbeat tone as the chorus starts.

Give me the first taste. Let it begin. Heaven cannot wait forever.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me first?”

His eyebrows raise briefly before he blinks a couple of times. You tilt your chin to your chest and lace your fingers together, foot tapping anxiously as you stand in wait. “I mean, I think I’m just a little confused. We’ve seen each other for like, two weeks now. I feel like it’s always me who initiates—but tonight you did a little bit more of that. And… I guess we’ve only kissed—Am I bad kisser? Steve? Am I?”

You’re full of rambling, nervous energy but you try your best to play it off. It was such an awkward thing to say out loud, and there was no way you could come out and spit: Why have we not had sex yet?

Steve surges forward and takes your hand in his, “No!” His head his shaking wildly, “You’re a great kisser! The best!”

His blabbering catches you off-guard and the snort of laughter that comes from you is anything but attractive. “Jesus, Steven, that’s too much.”

Steve slaps his palm to his forehead. “Ah… I’m sorry. I think I’m just nervous.”

“About what?” You ask, leaning forward and looking up at him, “Steve, I just… snorted. You can’t be nervous about this. I should be the one who’s nervous! Look at you!”

He takes a step back and puts one hand on his hip, the other reaching forward to signal to you. “Look at me? Look at you!” He gawks.

The two of you stand there, pointing at each other, making scoffing noises of disbelief for a good two minutes before you put up your hand. “Okay. Pause, mister. You look like someone Photoshopped a rugged Ken Doll and then 3-D printed it. Westworld-style. You bake, you paint, you’re a ceramic---ist? Ceramicist? What! Steve!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “Come on! Your fuckin’ arms!”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m thirty-five and divorced. I sleep four hours a night. I’m a walking disaster.” Then he narrows his eyes at you.

“You’re gorgeous! You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re so sweet…! You’re honest?” He ticks off each adjective using his fingers, “You’re patient? God, Sarah throws half a tantrum and my world collapses. You’re dedicated. You’re---“

“Okay. Stop.” You mutter, cheeks burning hot, “I sleep on the couch next to a bottle of wine and have three pieces of furniture. We’re both disasters.”

Steve laughs and steps forward again, putting his hand over yours. “I just… didn’t want to mess anything up.” He whispers, “I like you so much… and… if we’re… talking about that. I haven’t… been with anyone in … two years. Other than you, I’ve only kissed one person my entire life… So, the question is—am I a bad kisser?”

You giggle as he gives you an apologetic smirk, shaking his head at the way you two have been aggressively complimenting each other. Standing on your tiptoes, you move to nuzzle your nose against his. “You’re a great kisser, Steve. The best.”

Darkness flutters over his eyes briefly before Steve expertly dodges your nose and catches your mouth with his instead. With a half-whimper, half-moan, Steve Rogers grabs the back of your neck in one large, warm hand and your lower back with the other and presses your body flush against his.

Oh.

He’s so tall he has to bend over and you’re so small against him that he’s nearly picking you up. A brief parting of your lips give you a moment to catch your breath, but he’s back again, tongue sliding against yours sweetly, as if asking a silent question.

Is this okay?

With a sigh of pleasure, you ask him to continue in the same, secret language. Your chest his burning hot, tummy quivering with nerves and delight as his hands roam your body. Firm. Strong. Almost desperate. Your own hands rest against his chest before one reaches up and cups his face, trailing your fingertips through his beard.

“D-does it bother you?” He mutters against your mouth before he slides down past your jaw and lands his lips on your neck, “My beard?”

“Mmm—no—” you’re breathless as he kneads his fingers into your waist, moving up to position them just below your breasts, “I like it—mmm-- lots.” You sigh, as his scruff tickles your shoulder, sending tingles all over your body. “I’d like to feel it… elsewhere, too.”

He freezes and pulls away. His hands place you back down on your feet-- back to Earth-- as he swallows hard, looking at you with open, red lips. Steve rolls the bottom one between his teeth and clenches his jaw, eyes half-lidded and lustful. You’re probably a wreck, too, you think as you catch yourself against a table.

“Can we---”

You cut him off. Your purse is already in your hands, keys swinging around your finger.

“God. Yes. I’ll follow you.”

Steve tugs you from the driver’s seat of your car, hand entwined with yours as he leads you up the walkway and over the step. Once the front door shuts behind him and he’s made sure it’s locked, you’re pressed up against the wall, purse, shoes, keys, clattering onto the hardwood.

“Oh, honey,” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, scooping you up into his arms. “Oh, Jesus, sweetheart.”

You’re glad he knows how to navigate his house with his eyes closed because the whole way there, you can’t stop kissing him. Your hands tug his hair and your teeth pinch his bottom lip. Steve responds by growling softly, biting you back, squeezing your thighs before slowly easing you onto his bed.

It’s dark in his room, but you feel the bed dip as he climbs on too. Both your eyes are trying to adjust—trying to find each other. Your hands fumble around until you catch him, his knee. His hands find your stomach. Slowly, he reaches for the hem of your shirt and peels it up over your head. Then he does the same to his own shirt and both of you shimmy out of your pants.

He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been two years and the first man you touch is more like a mythical creature than any man. It should be illegal for someone to feel this good.

Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.

“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This--” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already...”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.

“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of thick muscles.

The mischievous chuckle that pours from his throat vibrates against your chest. Steve grabs onto your thigh and eases your leg over his hips inching closer and straightening himself until you’re aligned perfectly. He tilts back and guides you against him until your center slides against his bulge.

Just as you find the elastic of his waistband, he jerks away and places himself in-between your legs as he moves you onto your back. You scoot until your head hits the wall, propping yourself up on your elbows, giving him more room at the foot of the bed.

“You wanted to feel this?” Steve caresses your thighs with his cheek, the hairs on his beard tickling your sensitive skin. Your toes curl up reflexively as he moves back and forth, trailing his lips and face all over.

You squeal when the tip of his nose touches your mound, mouth hovering over your soaked panties. His mouth latches on, almost in a bite before he takes them off. Both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls your hips forward. You land on his face, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss he presses to your folds. His breath comes out in a smug puff of air that purposefully continues to drive you unbelievably closer to what feels like breaking entirely.

“Baby…” he mutters—right into your cunt, Jesus! You groan at the way his face is nestled there. “Baby---mm— It’s been two years for me.” He whispers, “If I don’t get you off now, in a really good way—it’s not gonna be good at all.”

“Steve—you know—ah! It’s been the same amount of time for me too, right?!”

He ignores you, crawling his hands around onto your hips to keep you from squirming. When you settle finally, he moves one hand to your center, sliding a finger up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto your clit as his finger continues their trail. You fist his hair with both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But he doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your swollen clit, Steve doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion builds a terrible itch inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to scratch.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, pumping them in and out. He sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive bud, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching your back into his hand and face, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

“C’mon, that’s it. Thassa good girl. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked thighs, beard tickling your sensitive skin.

Instead of pulling away, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, and your heart stills. Ready?

You voice your concern, “What do you mean?”

With a slight chuckle, he sits up, wiping his mouth and parts of his beard with the back of his hand. In the dark, Steve reaches for your arm, guiding you to feel exactly what he’s talking about. A strangled cry escapes your throat as you wrap your fingers around his cock. Hot. Throbbing. Big.

Sweet, sensitive, divorced, baker, artist, ceramicist, father Steve fuckin’ Rogers was packing. And it isn’t until you nervously grip him in both hands do you realize the importance of his last statement.

“Can I get you ready, baby?” He asks again.

For the millionth time that night, your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean against the headboard with a whimper. Steve crawls over on top of you, scoops you up once again in his arms, and places you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, previous two fingers pushing inside gently.

You rest your head on his shoulder as your body shakes under his ministrations, already tired and overstimulated. Your hands find their way to grip him, massaging his length tenderly, savoring the temperature of his body, spreading the beaded precum at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, scissoring his fingers inside of you, spreading your walls.

The third finger meets resistance as you tense up.

“S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m… I’m pretty nervous…” But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear. It’s a few minutes of this exploration before you feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination. Steve takes the message as a confirmation and reaches into the end table for a condom.

It’s slipped on and you follow suit, gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could emerge from your throat.

“Oh… my… God!” You cry. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the sweetest sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re afraid to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, holding onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you mutter, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He flexes within you, grunts into your ear. A dry chuckle escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, my love… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his. The two of you feel welded together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. You body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away and clean himself up. He goes into the bathroom first, lying you down and covering you with the blanket.

When he returns, Steve finds you already dozed off. You palm rests under your cheek as you lie on your side, breathing deeply.

As quietly as he can, he squeezes in beside you, fitting himself against your back. He’s read it somewhere, that falling in love was a little bit like falling asleep. As his eyes slip shut, he feels it happening, just like that quote had said: slowly at first, then… all at once.

In the darkness behind his lids, there is strangely so much light.

Next Chapter

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #self insert #slow like honey heli0s

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