#beetlejuice prompts

[writingpromptneeds]

'beetlejuice' (1988) prompts. 🪲

'Well, well, you're a big fella...' 'I'm glad I caught you.' 'Okay, but let's hurry back.' 'Do you remember how we got back up here?' 'I hate it when I'm not in control.' 'Where are all the other dead people in the world?' 'We're not completely helpless.' 'This room is off limits.' 'Did you feel something?' 'What's the good of being a ghost if you can't frighten people to death?' 'Nothing can be worse than this.' 'Death didn't improve your sense of humor.' 'Is this what happens when you die?' 'Aren't you scared?' 'Of course I can see you.' 'This is not a joke!' 'Who do I gotta kill?' 'They'll all run screaming.' 'They're ghosts. They do what they want.' 'Let's just leave them alone.' 'I coulda finished the job!' 'Never trust the living.' 'It's not pretty, but, that's death!' 'Come here, I want to talk to you.' 'They can't feel a thing.' 'Let's leave this crazy world behind us.' 'It's showtime.' 'Get on with it!' 'Some people never know when to leave things the way they are.'

[a-wumper-on-the-internet]

isolation is not used enough as whump.

i love my whumpers (why do you think I have so many of them as ocs compared to whumpees), but sometimes the whumper doesn't need to be there. Sometimes you leave your guy stuck, alone, forever. And then just see what happens.

Drifting in the emptiness of space? free to roam but unable to talk to people or interact with the world in any capacity? just a plain, fully furnished, completely uneventful room, but with no door? Incredible. showstopping. flawless.

like, we all love starvation and dehydration and torture via the elements or weather or nature, but I think we all are sleeping on boredom. boredom is a slow, patient killer, that'll tear apart your mind, bit by unstable bit.

boredom is what pushes a whumpee to be a whumper. it's been so long without stimulus - you might turn to... alternative methods. because if you make them scream, it might just remind you that you still exist.

[sicktember]

what does tales from the waiting room mean? like literally things that went down in the waiting room? or how everybody got there?

i know its supposed to be vague on purpose so you can do more things w/ it but that one is tripping me up so bad ^^ anywasy VERY EXCITED FOR THE PROMPT DROP!! :3

You're right, some prompts are kept fairly vague just for the sake of creative interpretation. And we REALLY love your idea of 'how everyone got there!' But, oh boy, do we have some other fun thoughts on this one!!

If you enjoy angsty whump: You could write about your character, sitting in the waiting room, anxiously anticipating any news about their loved one who is in the back being seen. Brooding and intrusive thoughts cross their mind. They pace and fight back the panic that wants to rise with each passing minute. Every time the doors swing open, their head shoots up, then falls with disappointment when the person passing through it isn't there to talk to them.

If you enjoy hurt/comfort: You may want to consider your characters sitting in the waiting room together. It's crowded and understaffed and the wait feels just a little too long. Your Sick character is miserable and their companion is doing their best to keep them comfortable. Maybe they get a blanket out of the car or offer their shoulder as a pillow. They impatiently press the front staff about when their companion will be seen.

If you enjoy humor: Maybe you want to go with an outsider's POV. The nurse is watching your characters in the waiting room. It's clear the situation isn't dire. As such, they're left chuckling over the dramatics and bickering that's taking place between your characters as they wait to be seen.

If you enjoy pure unadulterated whump/Potential Character Death: You may want to consider what happens when the wait is too long. The longer they sit there the worse your Sick Character is getting. But despite the hospital prioritizing patients by condition, your character's name just isn't being called. Their companion is terrified watching helplessly. By the time the doctors are finally available, your sick character is critically ill and may or may not recover.

Of course, there are plenty of options in between as well! But that should be enough to get you started!

Thanks so much for asking!!

[musical-shit-show]

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!

[viro-lil-goat]

Magtober day 4 - Roleswap

NEW ADDITION!!

[the-oaken-muse]

Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse

Dannymay Day 24: NASA

Read it on AO3, if you dare.

Of all the places in the Infinite Realms Juno could have sent him for community service, it had to be the fucking Ghost Zone. He never thought he’d miss the Netherworld, but at least there he didn’t have to deal with Warden Pasty Face and the stick up his entire ass.

He banked a hard left, bobbing and weaving through the zero gravity obstacle course provided by the ectoplasmic landscape. Behind him, the thud of armor against rock let him know he was down a pursuer, as one of the guards collided with an island of floating debris.

God, this place was a dump.

He dove through a thick patch of green fog before ducking behind one of the many floating doors littering the not-air; grateful that he didn’t have breath to catch. Walker’s goons zoomed past his hiding place, following his previous trajectory on a trail that didn’t exist.

Ha! Suckers!

He may have evaded them for now, but he would have to keep moving. When they realized that he’d lost them, they would fan out and search, leaving no stone unturned until they eventually found him and dragged him squirming back to that hell hole of a prison to be crushed under Walker’s boot once more. He needed to put as much distance between himself and this part of the Zone as possible. Or better yet, find a way to the human realm.

He looked to his left, green. He looked to his right, green. He looked down, an endless abyss of green stared back at him.

Looks like he was going to have to ask for directions. Great.

The next door he came across was a deep shade of plum with intricate panels of solid mahogany and a crystal knob. He yanked it open.

“Hey! Anybody home? Hello? I’m lookin’ for—”

A sopping wet sponge splashed against his face. It lingered there for a moment before slowly sliding down, down, down and falling into the chasm below, leaving his face dripping suds. “…the ...nearest portal to Earth.”

The door slammed shut.

“Ugh, soap.” He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing it with fresh grime.

He floated over to another door, this one a dark weathered indigo with a heavy iron latch. He pulled it open with a loud creak, “Wazzup!”

A burly, tattooed arm emerged from the dark interior and slapped him across the face with a dead fish before slamming the door shut.

Jesus, the ghosts here were rude. At least it wasn’t soap this time.

Next, he spun the wheel on a silvery lavender hatch until it popped up with a hiss.

“Hullo down there!” his voice echoed back. “I’m lookin’ for a human portal! Can ya help a brother out?”

A thick tentacle, in a green so dark it was almost black, snaked out of the hole. In a blink, the tentacle lashed itself around his neck, crushing his useless windpipe.

“Look, I’m a hugger as much as the next guy, but this is a little forward, don’tcha think?” he wheezed.

In response, it whipped him back and flung him into the infinite green like a pitcher throwing a fastball.

He soared, eyes watering, hair whipping, and jowls flapping, for what felt like an eternity, but the five watches on his arm all agreed was only a few minutes.

His flight ended abruptly when he splatted against a strange metal structure. Its surface hummed with energy, vibrating his entire being. He peeled himself off, smoothing out the dents its rivets left in his skin, and took a look. A swirling vortex brighter than the surrounding ectoplasm filled its patchwork steel frame. Unlike the other doors, it remained fixed in place rather than floating up and down gently in a sea of green; it was anchored to something, to another dimension.

Bingo.

He stood on the edge of the portal, plugged his nose, and dove into the pool of light.

The portal spat him out in a large room made of the same patchwork metal as the doorway. Though the scent of death was strong here, in the glowing green of the machinery and in the air, it was mixed through with the unmistakable vitality of the living.

Perfect. Now he just needed to… find a way to get his powers back again…

He slumped forward and groaned.

Living people with The Sight were one in a million, and of those, the ones that were dumb teenagers were even fewer. There was no way Lydia was going to help him out again after the whole fiasco with their wedding either. He needed a new plan, a new pawn… well, there was no time like the present to start looking.

He floated up, poking his head through the ceiling into a modest kitchen. There was a table for four in the middle of the room, but only one chair was occupied. A pair of faded blue jeans and beat up red sneakers bounced impatiently and he could hear the scratch of pencil on paper. Sounded like homework. Bo-ring!

Like a shark fin cutting through the waves, the top half of his head glided across the floor to the fridge. Maybe they had beer.

A small pile of brown crumbs just under the door caught his attention. He sniffed at them, chocolatey. He floated a little higher so that his mouth breached the tile and licked up the remains of someone else’s fridge raid.

“Mmm, fudge.”

The kid at the table startled and looked over in his direction. He could almost believe they were making eye contact right now.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Who the heck are you?”

Looks like it could. He cracked a rotten grin and rose fully out of the floor.

“I’m the Ghost with the Most, pleasure to meet ya, kid.”

He held out a hand to shake, a centipede skittered down his arm and around his dirt-crusted knuckles before heading back into his sleeve. The boy just stared at the proffered digit in disgust.

“The most what? Grease stains on your shirt?”

“That and so much more! You name it, I’ve got it. Charm, good looks, STDs—”

“Modesty.” The boy deadpanned.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I wear pants at least…” he began counting the fingers on one hand, “thirty percent of the time!”

“That’s not what I— You know what? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t soup you right now.” The boy snatched a thermos off the table and waved it threateningly.

Jeez, tough crowd.

He wasn’t sure what kind of soup was in there, but something told him he didn’t want to find out.

“Beeecauuuuse…” His eyes darted around for something he could use to turn the situation to his favor. Math worksheet? No. Half eaten sandwich? Maybe later. NASA t-shirt? Perfect. “I’m a star, kid.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of star?” The boy narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“Red supergiant, Orion constellation… I’m sure you’ve heard of me…”

He crossed his fingers behind his back. Please work, please work.

“Betelgeuse?”

“Got it in one, kid.” He swallowed his relief and winked. “You’re even quicker on the uptake than Lydia!”

“Who?”

“Uhh, no one! Hey, what’s that?”

Betelgeuse darted over to a group of photos on a shelf and picked one up.

“Who’s the chick in the tight blue suit?” He whistled, letting the back of the frame fall open and the picture to unfold. “Really doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it?”

“Um, ew! That’s my mom!” The kid snatched the photo out of his hands and inspected the back of it. “How did you even do that?”

“I’d let her be my mommy any time.”

“…I will literally do anything for you to never talk about my mom ever again.”

“Anything?”

“Like, within reason. I’m not gonna, you know, kill anybody or anything.”

“Would you… be willing to… maybe… say my name three times in a row?” He bit his lip in anticipation.

The kid considered him suspiciously. “Is this like a kink thing?”

“What? No! Pshhh! No! Well maybe sometimes… Absolutely not, no. Cross my heart! See!” He drew an X on the right side of his chest.

“Yeah, no. Still don’t trust you.”

“C’mon kid!” He skidded to his knees in front of the boy. “Please, please, please! I’ll owe you one! I’m good for it! Promise!”

He clutched at the NASA shirt desperately. He couldn’t let this kid slip through his fingers, it might be another hundred years before he found another living person who could see him. He’d tasted the blood of freedom and he wanted more.

The boy grimaced and tried to pull away, Betelgeuse scrabbled after him. “I’ll get out of your hair, promise! Just three little words! Just three!”

“Okay, jeez, fine. If it’ll get you leave,” the boy groaned.

“YES! I mean!” He cleared his throat, “Yes.”

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse. Now get out of my house.”

Power surged then fizzled within him.

“Wow. That was anticlimactic.” He deflated. “Ah well, a deal’s a deal! See ya kid!”

He flew up through the ceiling with a sloppy salute.

What a chump! That was almost too easy.

 -later-

 That was definitely too easy.

Betelgeuse scowled as yet another hand reached through his head to grab a jug of milk.

His powers had been on the fritz ever since he got them back. One minute he was turning the floor into a writhing mass of roaches, the next, poof, they were gone! The unsuspecting sap he’d been about to scar for life left… unscarred.

He could tap someone on the shoulder, but when they turned around, they just looked straight through his carefully crafted horror show of a face; he’d hidden in dumpsters to jumpscare people taking out their trash, but they didn’t even see him; and his fruit fly cream pies went right through their targets.

Figures, it was just his luck that the one fucking human in this whole damn city who could see him was fucking defective.

Betelgeuse opened the glass door and stepped out of the grocery store refrigerator, he needed to find that kid.

[porcelainmoth]

Welcome to my blog

About the author

Name: Elle 🖤

Age: Twenties

Pronouns: She/Her

Currently listening to: Beetlejuice the musical! 🪲🧃

Favorite shows: Helluva Boss and Hazbin hotel. If you couldn't already tell.

A little about me: In my free time I like to write and draw. In the future I possibly want to become an animator or a voice actor.

Fandoms I write for:

-Hazbin Hotel

-Helluva Boss

-Possibly Beetlejuice in the future!

What I won't write: Smut, I just don't feel comfortable writing it or anything NSFW. Anything involving R@pe, Anything r@cist, sexist, inc*stuous or homophobic. That's a big no no and I will not tolerate any of that on my blog.

Reblogs are fine!!

Ask me anything! I'll try my best to respond!

As always take care and have a good day ❤️

[dannyphannypack]

Fuck it, DP Beetlejuice AU

In celebration of me getting to see Beetlejuice on Broadway in less than a month, I thought I would pose a DP AU that’s been on my mind while listening to the soundtrack in which Danny plays Beetlejuice, Sam plays Lydia, & Tucker acts as the Maitlands.

Following the death of Ida Manson, Sam’s parents move them into a gaudy old mansion recently vacated by a family of Foleys following their son’s untimely death. Tucker utilizes the advice of a bio-exorcist named Phantom to try and scare Sam, but given he’s the ghost equivalent of a brown-eyed puppy they just end up becoming friends. By the end, Phantom and Sam are eventually convinced of the value of friend/family relationships and of living, and Tucker and Sam perhaps are even able to eke out a bit of a tragic backstory from Phantom (whose name had been Danny, back when he was alive and before he developed resentment toward the living).

There’s a lot of liberties that can be taken with this, obviously. I just really like the dynamic of a little-bit evil Danny haunting the Manson residence, and through the power of Friendship™ remembering what it is to be human and experience love.

[heart-aflame]

2 8 12 for lydia?

Hi Wiz!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

I love that she's not afraid to be herself and refuses to change for anybodies comfort.

I also very much enjoy that once she decides something, everyone else generally goes along with it. They don't even ask questions, they just trust her.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Ship her with Beetlejuice like there wasn't an entire song dedicated to calling out the pedophilia of that, as well as them adamantly being friends, how they acted together was very clearly hugely different to how he acted to the Maitlands.

( edit: Also she's at the oldest 15, and at youngest 12, and he's hundreds of years old and dead. Necrophilia and pedophilia aint a good look buds. It also doesn't matter if she is aged up, they've still met when she was a child, and waiting until she's an adult, or aging her up, just makes it so much worse because that adds grooming to the bad shit going on there. Also in terms of the movie version, he straight up traumatized her, she is terrified of him, he is her waking nightmare, he forced her into a wedding and used her own voice, preventing her from speaking himself. )

I also hate when they forget how creative and stubborn she is, and write her acting younger and weaker than she is. She's so smart and clearly loves the arts, don't take that away from her.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

She's a lesbian and autistic. I also have the idea in an au I have going on that she's a necromancer, but those work differently in my au than how they're usually depicted.

She's an amazing character, thanks for the ask Wiz! Feel free to send more for her or others!

[shit-id-never-post-on-my-main]

Yknow the idea of Beetlejuice sometimes picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder while he carries you somewhere else?

Yeah what about the first time he does this?

[tofuingho]

Danny can 100% do the stretchy distorted face thing that the Maitlands did in Beetlejuice.

He only uses this power for chaos.

[hehe-philosophy-go-brrrrrr]

If I may propose an idea. Reverse beetlejuice. The deets were there first, then died. They come back as ghost while Lydia survived being adopted by the maitlands. The house is already post modern as hell, so the maitlands renovate to get a homier feel to it. The deets are outraged by a lack of ‘style’ and decide to haunt them, all the while Lydia can in fact see them but ignores her stepmother completely. The deets meet big mr B, and hijinx ensue.

[mordellestories]

Part Four | What Lurks Below | Beetlejuice Podfic

[musical-shit-show]

hi, I love the way you write dewey finn so much!! may I request #18 from prompt list 2 and/or “you are terrible at this.” from prompt list 3 for him please?

close enough to touch

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: #18 (“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.”) from Prompt List 2 and #36 (“you are terrible at this.”) from Prompt List 3, requested by anon

Warnings: Awkward flirting, fluff

Word Count: 2,370

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, anon! I was really struggling with this one but I hope you like it! I’ve been meaning to write some post-School of Rock Dewey, and if people like this I wouldn’t mind doing another teacher!Reader one shot. So please let me know if this is something y’all like in the comments and reblogs! Also, check out my Masterlist, Prompt Lists, and About Me page, and submit an ask! It might take me a little bit longer with some requests but I promise to always make those my priority. I’m also working on my Beetlejuice series (to fill the void of course) so hopefully there will be more chapters of that coming soon. Thanks to everyone who’s supported my writing so far and enjoy!

“Don’t look now, but he’s staring at you again.”

“Who?”

“The music tutor.”

You decided to not look up from your coffee mug, the creamer you had just poured swirling slowly. It was the end of your second week at Horace Green, and Mrs. White had quickly taken you under her wing.

The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with activity, since the second Friday of every month meant free pastries from the local artisanal bakery. Apparently incentivizing the molders of young minds with sugar and fat never failed.

You placed an almond croissant on your plate, trying your best to stay discreet, “What’s his name again? Danny?”

Mrs. White laughed lightly, “Dewey,” she said with the smallest hint of disdain, “He’s the one I was telling you about last week. The one who impersonated a substitute last semester.”

Your jaw fell open slightly, and you decided to get another look of this guy. Turning from the spread of baked goods, your eyes wandered over to the other side of the room, where you saw the culprit averting his gaze from your direction.

He was, in a word, unkempt. His clothes were mismatched and ill-fitting; the button-down shirt hiding under his loud sweater vest was about half a size too large, and his dark jeans looked half a size too small. Most of the male teachers at Horace Green typically wore sport jackets and khakis, or at least a tie. Clearly Dewey didn’t get the memo.

His hair was also rumpled, dark brown and wavy and spurting in all different directions. You guessed he had rolled out of bed without running a brush through that mess, let alone even looked in the mirror.

You also noticed a significant amount of stubble growing on his round face, finishing off the whole scruffy vibe he had clearly committed to. He was almost…cute. His eyes were the same color as your coffee, deep brown with a touch of lightness.

“Not to state the obvious, but isn’t that a crime?” you murmured, trying to be discreet as you gossiped with your co-worker.

She answered with an eyeroll. “Of course it is,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. She took it black, two sugars. “But Rosalie—Ms. Mullins—decided to not press charges and hired him instead. Caused quite an uproar, but the students love him, so…”

You peered at him again curiously. Dewey was had just finished scribbling something in his notebook, breathing a heavy sigh as he slouched back into the plastic chair.

“I wouldn’t get involved if I were you,” Mrs. White warned, clearly noticing your interest in him, “From what I’ve heard, he’s nothing but trouble.”

You nodded. “Believe me,” you lied, “I know when to stay away.”

~oOo~

A sigh of relief left your chest the second the final bell rang at 3:15 that day. Teaching 10 and 11-year-olds how to structure essays all day really drained you, no matter how polite and well-behaved they were.

You gathered your belongings quickly and were walking briskly to your car when you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Dewey, and you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. He was carrying what looked like stacks of sheet music.

One misstep and he’d be picking up papers until sundown. 

“Uh, hi,” he said as he caught up to you, the cold January air making his breath visible. He attempted to extend his arm for a handshake, but retracted when the heaps of music in his one arm began to falter. “I’m uh, I’m Dewey. Or ‘Mr. Finn’ as the kids say, but you can call me Dewey.”

Looking at him more closely, you decided he was even cuter than you first thought. With Mrs. White’s warning ringing in your ear, a part of you wanted to turn the other way, tell him you were in a hurry to get home, make up some excuse to not get involved.

But it was clear he was interested in you, and you’d be lying if you weren’t at least a little intrigued. And besides, it’d be rude to not at least introduce yourself, right?

“Hi, Dewey,” you parroted, giving him another once over. “I see you already know my name.” He was already flushed from the cold, but his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right, well, I got it from the staff directory. Just…wanted to introduce myself. I teach the kids music after school most days.”

“I know who you are,” the statement came out colder than you intended, “I did see you this morning, do you make a habit of hanging out in the teacher’s lounge?”

He gulped. “No,” he answered, “No, I just…I had a meeting with Rosalie this morning about the spring concert.”

Pure enough excuse. However, Mrs. White had also let it slip that he and Ms. Mullins apparently had a fling a few months prior, which only intrigued you more. What was so special about this guy that he could avoid a criminal trial for identity theft and date his boss in one fell swoop?

“I see,” you said coyly, trying to scrutinize him without being too obvious, “And are you and Rosalie…close?” If Dewey’s face was pink before, it had now turned to an embarrassing shade of scarlet.

“Oh, um, no,” he said, clearly flustered. “Nope. She’s a great…lady. And really cares about the kids. But…no. Not very close.” You nodded, completely unconvinced. You didn’t want to believe the gossip, but with a response like that, how could you not at least consider that it could be true?

Dewey shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his grip tightening on the sheet music. “We kissed,” he blurted, exhaling heavily, “Like, twice. She’s great but…I’m single. Very single.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his honesty. It was oddly refreshing. “Should I be taking that as some kind of hint?” you flirted, smiling softly. You couldn’t care less that your nose and fingertips were growing red from the cold.

“Only if you want,” he said, a shy smile dancing on his lips. Panic overtook his features only seconds later. “I mean, shit, not to be too forward or anything—”

“You know, you are terrible at this,” you said, cutting him off. Dewey flashed an embarrassed grin, letting out another breathy laugh, “How about I just give you my number and we just go from there?”

The two of you quickly exchanged digits and walked to your respective cars separately, unknowingly sharing excited smiles that lasted all the way home.

~oOo~

A few weeks later, you found yourself sticking up flyers for the School of Rock’s annual midwinter concert after the final bell had rung. Dewey had somehow roped you into posting the brightly colored papers on every corkboard, chalkboard, and section of blank wall space in the school.

“I thought you’d be headed home by now,” you heard Mrs. White call from down the hall. You jumped slightly, the haughty timbre in her voice surprising you.

Plastering on your most innocent smile, you turned to face your colleague. “I will be soon,” your voice was dripping with saccharine sweetness, “Just hanging these flyers and then I’m home free.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “Any big weekend plans?” You shook your head, turning back to the wall where you stuck up another flyer. You hoped she would just walk past and be none the wiser.

Mrs. White approached you, skeptical. You were friends, sure, but she was old enough and smart enough to know when someone was hiding something.

And unfortunately for you, as soon as she caught a glimpse of exactly which flyers you were hanging up, it all clicked.

“I thought I made it very clear that Mr. Finn was nothing but trouble,” she said, sounding eerily like a disapproving mother. Despite your heartrate increasing rapidly, you remained calm.

An incredulous scoff left your lips as you placed your free hand on your chest, “Mrs. White,” she rolled her eyes at you using her surname, “I was simply assisting another educator in promoting a fundraiser for this school that seeks to promote the arts and enrich our students’ lives.”

“Did you rehearse that?”

“A little. But I mean it, Mr. Finn has been nothing but professional. We’ve barely even spoken outside of planning the concert.”

That was a lie, of course. The truth was, ever since you and Dewey had exchanged information, you had texted and called and even met up a few times outside of school. Of course, they couldn’t exactly be called dates—at least that’s what you told yourself.

He seemed nervous around you at first, sure, but as soon as you got to know him, that faded away and you were left with a carefree, albeit scatterbrained work buddy. And despite the occasional flirt, it was clear that he wasn’t as interested in you as you first thought.

Which only crushed you the tiniest bit.

Mrs. White glanced at the colorful flyer again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Well, of course I’ll be there to support our students’ artistic endeavors,” she said, a small smirk on her lips, “But don’t think I still don’t have my eye on you.”

You could tell she wasn’t being completely serious, but a small shiver of fear still wracked your spine as she walked towards the exit, the click clack of her pumps echoing on the linoleum tile.

You called goodbye sweetly, playing your role as nothing more than a helpful new teacher who was just excited about music education. Stapling up the last piece of paper onto a mostly bare bulletin board, you couldn’t help but overhear the noise of excited chatter coming from the music room down the hall.

The door was closed, but you managed to sneak a peek through the tiny window to see Dewey chatting with the bassist, who was about the same size as her as instrument. You felt a grin creeping onto your face.

Dewey’s passion for music came out the most when teaching the kids; even after watching him play a gig at the Roadhouse, you never saw his eyes light up more than when he was in that practice room.

You turned away and took a few steps toward the exit when you heard the door creak open, the chatter growing louder before muffling again. “Are you spying on me or something? You’re already getting into the concert for free, ya know.”

Dewey’s voice was more hoarse than usual, the gruffness making your stomach flip. “Not spying,” you teased, glancing over at the bulletin board, “Just doing your job for you.”

He clutched his heart dramatically, “You wound me,” he smirked, “But seriously, thanks for doing this. Hopefully we can drum up some more buzz.” You waved off his praise.

“No trouble. Consider us even since you had to suffer through listening to me babble on for way too long last night.” You two had made a habit of call each other late at night, which only confused your feelings even further. Your brain couldn’t decide if you were just co-workers, friends, or something more.

Apparently, Dewey couldn’t decide either.

“It’s okay,” he replied, running a hand through his messy waves, “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” He bared a toothy smile, wiping his palms on his dark jeans. His casual remark was innocent enough but still found a way to make your heart ache.

You decided the best course of action was to turn the attention away from yourself. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with attendance,” you said, referencing the brightly colored flyer again, “From what I hear your kids are incredible.”

He beamed like a proud parent. “Yeah, yeah they are,” he said, “And thank you for spreading the word. Some teachers around here still aren’t too keen on me, after, well…everything.”

You felt yourself frown, your mind flashing to Mrs. White’s warnings. From what you could see, everyone had misjudged Dewey. He was kind, passionate, albeit far less put together than the other Horace Green staff, but he loved teaching and he loved those kids.

Wasn’t that enough to take a chance on?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I did have big plans with my couch and a shitty movie, but—”

“You and me. Tonight. Roadhouse.”

“Okay?” he laughed, taken aback by your abruptness.

“And this is a real date, Finn,” you added. “No take backs.” A look of panic flashed across his face, and for a split second you wondered if you had made a terrible miscalculation. But how could you not take matters into your own hands after his weeks of mixed signals?

Before you could open your mouth to apologize profusely for stepping way over that friendship line, Dewey grabbed your arm lightly, pulling the two of you around the corner and away from the only occupied classroom on a Friday afternoon.

And he kissed you.

Softly at first, so gently that you felt yourself melting into the cold painted cinderblock wall as he grabbed your waist. Prep schools weren’t designed to be the most romantic of places, but perhaps that was for the best.

Nevertheless, you let your eyes flutter shut as your lips molded to Dewey’s, your breath hitching in your throat.  After a few seconds he pulled away, a shocked look on his face that surely mirrored yours.

“Sorry,” he muttered, a smirk creeping its way onto his mouth, “Surprised myself with that little stunt, huh?” You nodded as he peeled himself away from you. You instinctively checked your surroundings, but you were alone.

“Dewey, are you insane—”

You wanted to be angry with him for risking both of your jobs, but the fluttering in your heart was overwhelming. One thing was for certain, there was no mistaking that signal.

“I just, I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “But yes. I’ll see you tonight. No take backs.”

You smiled as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as he happily sprinted back to his students.

*****

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

read part 2 here!

[tickle-bugs]

This is probably going to be long lol so sorry You outdid yourself with the beetlejuice story! I am the anon who requested it and I am absolutely blown away. Everything about it was just pure perfection (including the way you described the musical compared to the movie and your disclaimer for beetlejuice and Lydia shippers) and I laughed out loud so many times. The vibe was exactly like the musical and it was just perfect. The characters were written so perfectly and so much like how they are in the musical. I loved the little Easter eggs like the spin your own yarn kit and the kombucha. Also, a coin collection is such an Adam thing to have. I love how you wrote Adam and Barbara’s relationship and how you wrote them as characters. The way you wrote Barbara was so flustering and wonderful and I am here for it. It was so cute and so accurate. Also beetlejuice eating the game pieces made cry from laughter it’s such a BJ thing to do. The back and forth between BJ and Lydia was just perfection especially how lydia described the maitlands 😭 and her saying she will bring bj back to life just to kill him. This is my new favorite fanfic I have ever read. Thank you so much for agreeing to write for beetlejuice! It was amazing

*cradles this in my hands* this ask can fit so much serotonin in it

First of all, thank you for swinging by to share this with me!! It always warms my heart when the original prompter comes back ;w; I'm so so so glad you enjoyed the fic. Thank you for requesting it!

This is like BEYOND sweet I'm blown away. This musical has a special little place in my heart and brain so it was a blast actually getting to bring parts of it to life!! I really love the way everyone's personalities shine through in the show ahhh!!

Listen. I wanted them to list more attic things in 'Barbara 2.0'. I know Adam and Barbara have the most USELESS stuff in their attic that they constantly just shuffled around until they died. If you made the kombucha and it tasted like armpit why did you keep it, please--

Also I just really love Barbara and Adam as characters?? They're really endearing to me. My favorite pottery barn and dry white wine duo. Had they lived any longer they would've hung a 'bless this mess' or 'live laugh love' sign above the door. Just a wifeguy and his beautiful wife. They both think mustard is too spicy but they'd go full poltergeist if a teenager called them dude. they're so!! yeah <3

AND YES BEETLEJUICE!! I'm so grateful to have seen the show live a few times because like. alex brightman (who played beetlejuice) always did and improvised the smallest but most random things and his mannerisms really stuck with me. There was a night where both he and Adam's actor (i believe he was a swing? or the adam after the original) kept messing with each other and they both broke character during 'fright of their lives' giggling like children and i was like yes. this is the vibe i need. BJ's the living embodiment of 'never let em know your next move'. He's super super fun to write. my beloved wretched little goblin <3

BJ and Lydia's friendship is truly so special to me they're just both so weird. It's one of the main reasons that I love the musical so much--you know where the show is going if you've seen the movie but you really feel like BJ and Lydia could be friends. It's sweet. She's got ghosts in her attic and they care about her, what more could she need?

Also LMAO I'm glad you thought the disclaimer was funny. I made myself laugh writing it. I've unfortunately always gotta put disclaimers on certain things I write but I figured lets at least have some fun with it hehe

ALSO ANON LOOK AT ME. LOOK. NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR LONG ASKS IT MAKES MY DAY!! seriously like!! the fact that you were moved enough to write this much about my silly little fic means the actual world for me. never ever apologize, there's nothing to apologize for <3

[wordwizards]

Sometimes stories are titled after their villains and any time that does happen there will be at least 1 person on Earth who thinks it's titled that way because that's the character they're supposed to life and then they will read or watch it and be flabbergasted