#betelgeuse musical

[hobi-gang]

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[jetsetlife138]

39. “At least put your guards down for me.” Pairing: Beetlejuice x Reader Warnings: Fluff 

“Beetlejuice,” you began, your voice shaking. “How do I know that you won’t lose control again?” 

His expression was mischievous, but his body went rigid as he replied, “You don’t.” 

Disappointment ebbed through you at his lack of reassurance regarding your safety. You outwardly scoffed at his bluntness. “Thanks, Beej. That’s super comforting,” you replied sarcastically. 

Luckily, the sarcasm wasn’t lost on him and he smirked at your response. For an older ghost, you were surprised and also grateful that he adapted well to current culture. “Would you prefer if I lied to spare your fragile little feelings?” he teased, though his tone was serious. 

“No,” you snapped back, not appreciating his implication that you were weak. “But there’s no point in helping you if you’re going to continue on this path of destruction.” 

All humor had vanished from his face at that point and his eyes flashed at you in the darkness. He began to approach you slowly with a hungry glare, making you instinctively back up into a table, catching you off-guard. When you turned to face Beetlejuice again, he was directly in front of you, inches from your face. “Are you afraid of little ol’ me?” he breathed, his gaze flickering from your face to your body. 

Your heartbeat quickened as it pounded against your chest while you decided on your answer. “I’d be stupid not to be, right? That’s what you’re going to tell me?” 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he spoke so lowly with such intimidation and captivation that you had to catch yourself from falling into a daze just staring at him, the way his lips formed each word that he spoke. 

You inhaled briefly, preparing yourself for the backlash of your answer. “No.” 

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked a couple of times in disbelief, still coming impossibly closer to you. “No? You’re not afraid, huh?”

“I’m not,” you breathed, trying to maintain your train of thought. “I’m not afraid of what you are, Beetlejuice. I’m afraid of what you can do.” 

“Oh?” he replied, somewhat taken aback. “Care to elaborate on that?” 

You rolled your eyes, placing your hands on his shoulders and pushing slightly. “If you don’t already know what I mean by that, then there’s no point in talking about it further.” 

He remained unmoved, even after you pushed harder, indicating that you wanted him to back off of you. “Tell me, Y/N,” he demanded, his tone severe. 

“I’m done talking about this. I’m not getting into this with you right now after you just attacked me and nearly made me your next victim. Let me go, B.” 

He remained unmoved, his eyes searching yours for what seemed like an eternity until he apparently couldn’t help himself. He lifted his hand, causing you to flinch away instinctively as you had done previously in fear that he was going to pull some elaborate prank that made you fear for your life. Instead, he tenderly brushed the hair out of your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

His body was pressed against yours now as he entangled his fingers into your hair, settling his face in the crook of your neck while he brushed his lips against your pulse point. You trembled beneath his touch, but you didn’t know if it was from fear or arousal. Maybe both? It was ridiculously difficult to determine your feelings about him anymore. 

His voice rang through the room then, bringing you out of your mess of thoughts. “If you don’t tell me what you’re afraid I’ll do, I’ll just have to find out myself. And I promise you, babe… that won’t be as pleasant as it sounds.” 

You didn’t know if he was teasing you or making an actual threat, but considering what you just experienced minutes prior, you didn’t want to take the chance. “You have to know by now that you can destroy someone without actually killing them.” 

Lifting his head from your neck, he eyed you questioningly. “Maiming?” 

“Ugh,” you huffed. It was like speaking with a child sometimes. “No. Think of what it would have done to me if you had actually killed my friends just because they dared step foot into this house? I swear, you’re not happy unless you’re making out with someone or actively plotting their death.” “I’m just lookin’ for a good time, sweet cheeks. I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he snickered, which irritated you, causing you to glare at him. “That’s the problem!”

The demon said nothing, but you could tell that he was listening intently, trying to process your words. For all you knew, he was incapable of understanding such a thing considering he had never experienced friendship. Or, even love for that matter. At least, that’s what you had assumed. 

Looking away,  you continued. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m more afraid of what you can do to me while I’m alive than when I’m dead. If I help you, and you intend to be in my life, I need to know that everything’s going to be okay. If I helped you, and you ended up killing someone I love because I kept you in my life… it would destroy me, Beej. Do you understand?”

A slight smirk graced his lips as he mulled over your words. “The cute little breather wants to make a deal?”

“Haven’t I already made enough deals with you?” you scoffed. “No. No more deals, no more games. This is it. Either you can promise me that you can contain yourself or you can’t. It’s as simple as that.” 

“I can’t.” 

You held your breath at that. You must not have heard him right. He was literally deteriorating in front of you, and you were offering your help in exchange for something as small as a request to not hurt those you love, and he couldn’t abide by it?

“What?” you snapped back in response. 

He stepped back, his fingers flexing like he was trying to contain whatever emotion was building up inside of him. “I’m not a damn dog,” he spat, clearly irritated. “I’m not just going to sit around and wait for your permission to have fun. I have given you so much more leniency than I have given any other breather that’s come strolling through here, and still, you want more.” 

You blinked in disbelief, mouth agape trying to find the right retort. “You want me to be grateful that you haven’t killed me?” you practically snarled. “Fine, Beetlejuice. Thank you. Thank you for tormenting me every day with your creepy ghost presence and your fucked up sense of humor and the looming threat of death of those I love. Thank you for stressing me out with your plots of destruction and chaos. Thank you for trying to trick everyone into saying your stupid na-mnf.”

A finger was pressed to your lips suddenly and you realized that you had gotten so lost in your own ranting that you didn’t even notice him approaching you to the point where he was almost resting against you, his eyes blazing. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he mocked, a sinister gleam in his eye. “So ungrateful. You’ve got no idea the things that I’ve done for you, babe.” 

“Really?!” You snapped back. “Granted, you haven’t killed me or my friends, yet, but I’ve had enough of your threats. Either kill me or don’t, because I’m done playing your games.” 

Turning your heel, you went to walk away, ignoring the fact that you had no idea where else to go, but that didn’t matter to you at that moment. However, before you could take a couple of steps, a hand wrapped around your wrist and spun you around so that you were flush against his chest, the chill of his skin radiating through his clothing. 

“Beej, what-” His lips crashed against yours, moving with such a desperate need that you felt like you could dissolve into him completely. The kiss was intense, almost angry in the way that he gripped you tightly against him, as if he were afraid that you would try to walk away again.  Your hands slipped up his torso and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as you kissed him back, a need that you didn’t realize you had clawing through your subconscious to get more and more of him. After a few more moments of contentment, you broke the kiss, licking your lips to savor the taste of him as he kept his eyes closed and pressed his forehead against yours. Brushing your lips against his as you spoke, you pleaded, “At least put your guards down for me. Just be real with me.” Pulling back, his eyes bore into yours as he contemplated your words. Finally, he replied, “I can try, babe. No promises.” “I can work with that,” you confirmed, smirking slightly. “For now.”