#when barbara hears whats up adam has to hold her back but even hes a lil upset | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goulets · 3 years

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Heartland

Chapter: 3/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Colin Wilkes, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas Rating: T (for now) Case Fic / Kid Fic a03 link

The library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to the baby. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for her one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

***

(dick)

Venice is a nightclub that has gone by many names during its Gotham tenure, and just as many owners. Dick has been undercover here at least twice, back when the club was catering to the wealthier patrons of Little Italy. The current management clearly hasn’t bothered with maintaining that exclusivity - the building is now shabby and outdated, even for this neighborhood. One thing that hasn’t changed, though, is the real draw of Venice, which is the illegal casino in the back rooms beyond the VIP lounge. Through all the club’s owners, the casino has always been run by the Falcones, and always frequented by the city’s most morally flexible elected officials. In the past four nights that Dick’s been staking the place out, he’s seen five judges, two city council members, and even the new police commissioner slipping out the back door into the alley, stinking of gin and cigar smoke and patting their coat pockets with an air of satisfaction. It’s good intel to have, Barbara’s told him. Always helpful to keep the files updated on who’s being bought and by whom. None of that really makes him feel better about the fact that he’s been staking this place out for four nights and still hasn’t managed to pin down their actual target.

It’s embarrassing, is what it is. He’s Nightwing, for God’s sake. He’s taken down whole Russian mobs in Bludhaven, and now he’s being completely eluded by a third-string Falcone no one’s even heard of.

Oracle had ID’d the doer of the Torres/Howard murders in a matter of hours, true to her word, and the ballistics had predictably matched up with a few other murders that the police never bothered investigating. Susanna “Susie” Falcone, a second cousin once removed with a rap sheet that puts many of her relatives to shame. Her name must still have some pull in political circles, because she’s only done time once, in spite of being indicted almost a dozen times. Gotta love good old fashioned judicial corruption, Jason had said. No one had been able to argue, looking at the number of charges dismissed.

All in all, it was supposed to be a fairly simple tag-and-bag. Once they’d found her place of work - officially, the Venice nightclub, unofficially, the family casino - he’d been tasked to track her, question her, and then turn her in to the police. He’d chosen his stakeout perch well, on a hotel roof high above the alley, he’d followed her, unseen, and so far, she’s given him the slip every freaking time. The woman has vanished through every doorway from here to Robinson Park, as only the most enterprising criminal can. Were this a different kind of case, Dick might have been impressed.

Instead, he’s annoyed, and having to compromise - his vantage point is lower, closer but more exposed in the thin shadows of a third story construction platform right above the alley. He can see the door to the club without any difficulty, but the moment he moves, he’ll be open to attack.

He’ll just have to move fast. Fortunately, that’s what he’s best at.

There’s a soft motion behind him, almost quiet enough to escape his notice entirely. It’s Jason - Dick hadn’t expected him to actually turn up. No doubt he’s here to make sure they finally succeed in catching their mark tonight, but he’s been so adamant about not leaving Danielle with anyone except Dick that it’s still a surprise to see him. What’s equally surprising to Dick is that he was apparently hoping Jason would show, if the relief he feels at seeing him is anything to go by.

It’s a nice moment of solidarity, until Jason opens his mouth. “So, fourth night’s a charm, huh?”

Dick bristles. “What happened to not leaving the baby?” he retorts.

Jason bristles back, but doesn’t rise to the bait. It’s a little wrongfooting - a reminder that things are changing between them. Dick is used to the veneer of antagonism that hangs over his relationship with Jason, the unresolved tension they both pretend not to notice. They’d gotten into a pretty good groove when he was acting as Batman, staying out of each others’ way for the most part, and working together when necessary. Dick’s pretty sure Jason doesn’t actually harbor any murderous feelings towards him, just like he doesn’t actually hate Bruce, no matter what he says.

“The girls and Alfred ganged up on me,” Jason says, leaning back against the scaffolding. “Whatever. I needed to get the hell out of there anyways. I don’t know how you stand being around them all so much.”

Dick laughs. “They’re not as interested in me,” he admits. “I’m not the cool sibling.”

Jason doesn’t respond right away. It's hard for Dick to tell, when he’s wearing the helmet, but he thinks Jason is probably waiting to see if Dick is joking. It’s another way things have shifted between them - Jason’s holding back, not jumping straight to lashing out, like he used to. It should be a good thing - it is a good thing, but it’s throwing him off balance all the same. He feels like he's spent most of the past several days looking for Jason, even when Jason is right in front of him. He’s used to trying to find the Jason he knows - or knew - the Jason who was taken away from him. Now there’s a new Jason, a Jason he’s still getting to know. Dick can’t choose between them, can’t decide which one he wants to find every time he looks at him. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to find his one lousy mafia shooter.

“Looks like the cops are covering up the ballistics report on Reynolds,” Jason says, after a moment. “Go figure.”

Dick frowns. “Just Reynolds?”

Jason grunts. “Hold on. What.”

Dick turns to look at him.

“Did you burp her?”

Oh, Dick realizes, he’s on the comm. Someone back at the Manor must have pinged him on a private line.

“Then get Alfred to do it.”

It’s curious that the ballistics on Cy Reynolds’ murder are the ones being suppressed, Dick thinks. He was the only one killed with a submachine gun - the bullets from most of the other crime scenes had come from a standard Beretta APX, and the object of his stakeout, Susie Falcone, had used a Glock on Danielle’s parents. The Glock matched a few other shootings, the Beretta matched none. None of that is particularly noteworthy - after all, Susie is a criminal, and Beretta shell casings are a dime a dozen at any mob shooting.

“Fine. I’ll check back in five. If you asswipes don’t pick up, I’m coming back there.” Jason makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, which Dick takes to mean he’s hung up.

“Everything OK?”

“Just peachy. By some cosmic fucking joke, I’m the only person in the family who can get the baby to take a damn bottle. I told her they just need to burp her, but I guess that’s too complicated a task for a family of genius detectives,” Jason grumbles. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her. Shit.”

“Jay, relax. She’s fine.” Dick can’t help but grin at him. It’s honestly sweet, the way Jason and the baby have gotten attached to each other. Dick likes to think he’s her second favorite, but it’s pretty hard to tell. No matter who’s holding her, she’s always looking at Jason, and Jason never stops looking at her.

“It’s fucking cold out here,” Jason says mulishly.

Dick raises an eyebrow. “I noticed. It’s April, not August. If you really want to go back, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“I don’t…” Jason sighs. “Look, I’m here, okay? You bungled this grade school op three nights in a row, so congrats, you triggered the bat buddy system. If I leave and you fuck it up again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dick supposes it’s his turn not to rise to the bait. “Fair enough,” he says easily, turning around to face the alleyway again. “What were you saying about the ballistics on Reynolds?”

“Oh, Oracle ran the bullets through Interpol. Turns out our ill-fated gang boss was offed by one of Carmine Falcone’s personal weapons. The record’s been scrubbed from US databases, but Babs had a hunch.” Jason sounds impressed.

“Been scrubbed meaning...there was a record,” Dick follows, “and some people might still remember, if they saw the bullets. Hence the coverup.”

“Yup. Hence the coverup.”

“Could explain what the commissioner was doing here the other night,” Dick muses.

Jason snorts derisively. “See, this is what I hate about the mafia. They’re so goddamn predictable. Kill the competition, pay off the cops, around and around forever. It’s so pedestrian.”

Dick laughs. “You’d rather deal with Clayface?”

“Fuck yes I would. Clayface has flair, you know? Anybody can be a mobster, shit.”

Jason has started shifting with agitation, or maybe impatience. Either way, their vantage spot isn’t hidden enough for him to be moving around. “Get low if you’re gonna be twitchy,” Dick tells him. “Or if you’re gonna have a cigarette, but I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Lucky for you I quit then,” Jason says, crouching down next to him. “I’m not jonesing, I’m just fucking cold.”

“We could huddle together for warmth,” Dick jokes, grinning unabashedly when Jason’s helmet fixes him with a death glare. “Wait, you quit smoking? When?”

“When I started taking care of a baby, obviously.” Jason goes still, suddenly. “Is that her?”

The door to the alleyway opens, and they both tense - but it’s just a man, a bodyguard, by the looks of him. Close-cropped blonde hair, early 40s, used to throwing his weight around. Feeling there’s something familiar about him, Dick nudges Jason and motions for him to take a photo. Jason starts almost imperceptibly at the contact, but follows suit. They both hold perfectly still in the shadows as the man looks around, glances in a cursory way along the rooftops, and then sets off down the alley towards the street.

“I know him,” Jason mutters. “From Tim’s case files - he was with Intergang.”

Dick doesn’t say anything about Jason calling Tim by name, but it’s a welcome development. “Looks like he switched sides, if he’s hanging out here.”

“Wonderful,” Jason says. “All right, I’m gonna check on the kid again.”

Dick represses the urge to give him a shoulder squeeze, or ruffle his hair. It’d probably result in him getting shoved off the platform, but Jason’s being so....not different, because Dick’s always known that this Jason was still in him, somewhere. Always hoped, anyways. When Jason had been younger and acted like this, surly with his words but tender with his actions, Dick had always thought of him as cute. It’s like that now, too, except it’s not just cute, because Jason has several inches and at least two weight classes on him. It’s cute in a different way, an adult way. It’s cute in a way that makes Dick want to push harder against Jason’s armor, to catch as many glimpses of that side of him as he can. If he thinks about it too long, it’s cute in a way that makes him want, recklessly.

“Red Hood to Batgirl,” Jason says. He’s calling on the family line this time. “Give me an update.”

“You’re seriously a helicopter parent, you know that, Hood?” Steph laughs in Dick’s ear. “We figured it out. Well...Black Bat figured it out.”

Jason’s shoulders sag a little in relief. Cute, Dick thinks, involuntarily. He needs to get a grip. “About fucking time.”

“She prefers being propped up,” Cass says. “It helps her swallow.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. And she likes her back straight.”

“You said none of that, actually,” Steph says. “You just told us to support her head. Which we have been, thank you very much.”

“You have her now?”

“Robin has her.”

Dick and Jason look at each other. Jason says, “What the fuck?”

“Right?” Steph sounds amused. “I was surprised too....his friend is here, that ginger kid? He’s the one that took her from the orphanage, right?”

“Batgirl, I swear to god, if anything happens to her - ”

“Oh, calm down, jeez,” Steph groans. “They’re being supervised, okay? It’s honestly precious, you would agree with me if you could see it. I’ll text the pictures to N.”

“Please do,” Dick says. Speaking of cute, in a way that’s much safer to think about.

“Go do your job now,” Cass tells them. “We’re handling it.”

“Yeah, what she said. Batgirls out.”

“Feel better?” Dick asks, after a moment.

“Don’t ask me that,” Jason grouses. “And show me those pictures when you get them.”

Dick grins. “Sure, Jay.”

“Ugh.”

Dick decides to change the subject, before Jason gets too antsy and tries to bail. “So how do you want to play this, when Susie shows?”

Jason points to a dumpster halfway down the alley. “We wait until she’s there. I’ll get the club door, put a taser on it to stop her getting back in or anyone else from coming out. You cut her off before she gets to the street, and we question her on the backside of the dumpster. I’ll take line of sight, since I’m packing.”

Dick nods. “So is she.”

“So is every goon in those back rooms, sure. That’s why we lock their asses in.”

“And if they come out the front?”

Jason spins a gun in his hand. “Rubber bullets do the job just fine if you know how to aim. Let me worry about the backup.”

Another thing that’s changed about Jason - or that hasn’t changed, depending on how far back Dick looks. He uses rubber bullets now, whenever he’s working a case with one of them. Supposedly it’s a stipulation from Bruce, but Jason didn’t use lethal force on the couple cases he and Dick worked together, either, back when Dick was wearing the cowl. Dick thinks Bruce just gave him an excuse - whatever bloodlust Jason was fueled by when he first came back to Gotham has long since dried up. There are still things that set him off - Barbara had informed them about a dead rapist in the Narrows just last month - but Bruce hadn’t even commented on it, besides the barest acknowledgment. Dick thinks he might be the only one that actually cares when Jason kills someone, anymore. And what’s really disturbing is that he’s not actually sure how much he cares. For instance, he knows Jason has a third gun, holstered under his jacket, loaded with live ammo. He could call Jason out on it, insist he ditch it or at the very least unload it.

He says nothing. Let me worry about the backup. If this mission ends in a massacre, Dick will only have himself to blame.

The door opens again, and out steps Susie Falcone.

She immediately looks around, staying still in the doorway for a minute or more. Dick is pretty sure she hasn’t seen him following her, but he’s familiar with the sensation of being watched. He and Jason both shrink further into the shadows, waiting for her to make a move.

The whole process takes about six seconds. The moment she gets a few paces into the alley, they drop down. Jason electrifies the door handle, and Dick outmaneuvers her easily, slapping his police-issue cuffs on her and kicking her gun aside, then spinning her into the wall behind the dumpster. She hits it with a grunt. By the time she’s glaring at him, Jason is at his side again.

“Nightwing and Red Hood?” she says. “Damn. Didn’t expect to see you fellas out here.”

She doesn’t seem scared of them. Dick guesses they’ll have backup coming their way soon.

“Hey, what do you know,” Jason says conversationally, picking up the gun and emptying the clip in one swift motion. “Nightwing, I do believe this is our Glock.”

“Not mine,” Susie objects. “Picked it up off the club floor.”

“Come on, Susie, you’re smarter than that.” Jason crosses his arms. “Look, I can appreciate a sensible weapon. The Berettas the rest of your family favors? Too flashy for me. I loved Sopranos as much as the next guy, but come on.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. “Thought you were a Sig man,” he says in an undertone. He hadn’t expected Jason to take the lead, but it’s working. Susie looks agitated at the mention of her family.

“Wow, stalker. Remind me to move safe houses,” Jason quips back. “Aw, look, she slipped your cuffs.”

There’s a taser in Susie’s newly freed hand, and Dick quickly sidesteps it, twists it out of her wrist and sends it clattering down the cobblestones of the alley. Jason sweeps her legs out from under her and knocks her down flat, maybe a little harder than Dick would’ve. Thankfully, she goes down without a fight.

“Let’s try this again,” Dick says, kneeling next to her and zip-tying her wrists. If he wasn’t sure before, he is now - she was expecting them. They won’t be alone for long. He throws a couple smoke pellets down to the ends of the alley, and clips a nearly invisible wireless mic to the shoelaces of her boot under the guise of patting her down.

“You’re obviously not surprised to see us, so just tell us what we want to know,” Jason tells her, squatting down. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really give a shit that you shot Big Mouth, but what did Linda Torres ever do to you?”

“Let me up,” Susie snarls.

“No. Talk, or I’ll give you a taste of that taser you tried to pull on us.”

“Hood,” Dick hisses.

“See? He knows I’ll do it. Save yourself the grief, Susie.” Jason points the barrel of his gun lazily at her temple.

Susie narrows her eyes. “Fine. The two of them robbed me, last September. Dumb motherfuckers didn’t know who they were messing with. But I let them live because the bitch was pregnant.”

Jason makes a noise of disbelief. “Oh, sure. You’re a real bleeding heart, is that it?”

“Like you’re any better,” Susie fires back.

“You said you waited on Linda because she was pregnant,” Dick says. “Why’d you wait to kill Big Mouth?”

Susie’s mouth twists. “Guess I just felt like it.” Dick doesn’t need to see the tension in her shoulders to know she’s lying.

“Strike two.” Jason clicks the safety off. “Who put the hits out?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Susie answers. “I’m dead if I talk, so pistol whip me if you want to. Here’s the God’s honest truth: I really didn’t need a reason to kill those assholes. I was out for ‘em anyways. But I’m not crazy enough to kill a baby, all right? I don’t need shit like that on my conscience.”

“Keep talking,” Jason growls. Dick hears the whoop of a siren a few blocks off. “Where’s the baby now?”

“Somewhere safe, I swear. If anybody comes for her, it won’t be me.”

Susie still thinks Danielle’s at the orphanage, then. That’s good for them, but potentially bad for all the other kids, Colin included. These guys clearly have no problem killing children, even if Susie won’t do it.

The sirens are getting closer. Someone inside must’ve called the cops. Dick motions to Jason, indicating they need to wrap things up.

“Who is coming for her,” Jason barks, every line of his body a threat. “You’ve got five seconds.”

“You don’t.” Susie looks triumphant. They can hear the shouts of police from behind the smoke. “But don’t worry, boys. You’ll find out who really runs this town soon enough.”

“Hood,” Dick mutters. “We need to go, cops in this neighborhood aren’t cape-friendly.”

Jason stands, visibly enraged, and for a moment Dick thinks he’ll shoot Susie anyways. He’s prepared to move - but then Jason pulls out his grapple, fires, and flies up onto the roof.

“Talk about a bleeding heart,” Susie says to Dick. “He have kids or something?”

Dick doesn’t like her tone of voice at all. She’s too relaxed, too unconcerned about being under arrest. She won’t stay in long.

“It’s Nightwing! Get your hands up!”

Dick obliges, ready to pull his escrima sticks.

Three police officers come through the smoke, weapons drawn. “You better have a damn good reason for being this far out of Bludhaven,” one of them shouts at Dick.

“Sure do!” Dick calls back. “Arrested a murderer for you, no need to thank me!”

“Shut up,” a different officer retorts. “Keep your hands up, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Jason mutters over the comm. “I’m throwing you an escape, we’ll recon on the library roof. Stop being so goddamn chatty.”

One smoke pellet later, Dick is three rooftops away and flying. He gets to the library before Jason, exhilarated as ever from a good run.

Jason drops down next to him after a minute or so, laughing when he gets a look at Dick’s smile. “Running from the cops still does it for you, huh?”

Dick elbows him, momentarily forgetting to keep his distance. “Doesn’t it for you?”

Surprisingly, Jason doesn’t move away. “Usually they’re shooting at me, so.”

Dick leans closer, testing. “So…yes?”

“You’re so annoying,” Jason says, but he lets Dick nudge his shoulder, bump their arms together. He’s so solid, Dick thinks. So big. More like Bruce than any of them.

“So, how fast do you think she’ll get out?” he asks, when Jason stays quiet.

“Fucking tomorrow, probably,” Jason sighs. “Next week if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds like she didn’t know about Danielle, at least.”

“She’s not the problem,” Jason says, shrugging Dick off and standing back up. “Falcones will blow up the whole orphanage if they get wind of it. We need to put them down first.”

“We need to find out who’s in charge,” Dick agrees. “I planted a mic on her shoe. In the laces. Hopefully she won’t find it for a few days.”

“Good thinking,” Jason nods. “You gonna keep patrolling?”

“Might as well,” Dick says, standing up next to him and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m still stiff from that stakeout, I need to move.”

Jason’s gone quiet again. Dick thinks he hears his breath catch, but the helmet muffles it enough that it could be a yawn.

“You’re going back to the manor?”

Jason groans. “Fuck my life, yes.”

“You miss her, huh.” Cute, his brain chants.

Jason doesn’t answer, but Dick has a feeling he’s getting the stink-eye.

“I miss her too,” Dick offers. “It’s okay.”

Jason sighs. “Dick…”

“It’s a good thing, Jay. You care about her! We all do,” Dick adds, seeing the rigidity in Jason’s posture. “I mean, you’re practically her parent right now. Of course you miss her.”

“...Don’t say it like that.” Jason’s voice is low, almost pained, and Dick knows he pushed too far. “Like…like I have a right to, okay, just. Don’t.”

“Jason, wait,” Dick starts, but he doesn’t get to finish. Without a backward glance, Jason fires off a line to the neighboring building, and then he’s gone.

***

(tim)

The docks are quiet, unsettlingly so, as Tim prowls around the towers of shipping containers, keeping to the deep shadows they cast along the chipped pavement. It’s overcast, so there’s no moonlight to expose him, but it’s also too dark to see which of the trucks and campers parked all over are occupied, which ones might suddenly turn their headlights on him and catch him out.

One truck in particular - an innocuous looking Isuzu with a stunningly weaponized interior, is the object of his search. The driver, Felipe, is one of Tim’s best informants within Intergang - or had been, prior to the upheaval. Tim’s reasonably sure that Felipe is too lowly a grunt to make an example of, but still, he’s concerned that he hasn’t heard from him in a few days.

As it turns out, he needn’t have worried. He finds Felipe a hundred yard away from his truck, taking a piss off the wharf. He lets himself into the passenger side of the truck, and immediately notes that it is packed. There’s hardly a spare inch in the back, and Tim has a tough time even getting into the passenger seat with all the bags, clothes, and blankets stuffed into it. He pushes the majority of it to the floor, and waits.

Felipe comes back a few moments later. He opens the door and starts, eyes going wide when he sees Tim, but Tim puts his finger to his lips and motions for Felipe to get in so they can talk.

“Red Robin,” Felipe says, once the door is closed. He looks even more shaken than usual. “What the fuck, man?”

Tim crosses his arms. “You tell me, Felipe. You’ve been dodging my calls for days, and now I find out you’re skipping town?”

“I ditched that phone, man. Boss Reynolds had my number in there, you know? Ditched it as soon as I heard about him. I wasn’t trying to ghost you, honest.”

“Relax,” Tim tells him. “I’m not mad. I’d dodge me, too. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll shadow you out of town. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“Shit, man,” Felipe sighs. “Okay, look. There’s shit I can’t tell you, not if I ever want to hench again. You gotta figure that all out yourself, yeah?”

Tim shrugs. “Fine.”

Felipe swallows. “It started last week when Boss Reynolds met with somebody - I don’t know his name, God as my witness, but from what I heard, ‘cause I was unloading some of that funky alien tech, and you know Boss Reynolds wanted to supervise that personally - anyways, this guy in a suit took a meeting with him, and it sounded like he was offering Boss Reynolds a job. Said he had a new operation, bigger than Intergang, bigger than anything Gotham’s seen in a while.”

“Did Reynolds believe him?”

“Nah, he told him to get lost. They had some words, and then everybody started pulling guns, and I went back to the ship so I didn’t get fuckin’ shot, but I didn’t hear anything after that. Next thing I saw, Boss Reynolds was calling his son up and telling him to demo some building down by the old boardwalk - a hotel, maybe. Guess he wanted to expand that way, I don’t know.”

“That was the old Falcone hotel,” Tim says, mostly just to see Felipe’s reaction. He isn’t disappointed - Felipe goes pale, and his eyes flash to the rosary hanging off his rearview mirror. Tim likes Felipe as an informant because he’s nosy, shockingly competent for a henchman, and because he really likes to gossip. He’s never held back on Tim before this.

“Few days later, one of ours, this merc named Tiberius, comes down to the warehouse and says he’s got something to show us. Takes out a fat fuckin’ folder full of pictures…man, it was some sick shit. Boss Reynolds, his wife, Reynolds Jr, and every fuckin’ guy under him. Kids, man. He just passed it around, made everyone look at it. Then he says, we can either be in the folder, or we can come meet the new boss.”

Felipe takes a shaky breath. “Obviously I go with Tiberius, like everyone else. I heard a couple guys stayed on the ship that was docked, thinking they’d wait ‘em out, but the new boss blew it up. Says we’re not in the tech business anymore, and anyone caught trying to smuggle it is gonna get tied to it and tossed in the harbor. You can imagine my concerns,” he says, gesturing to his truck. Tim estimates half or more of the weapons in it are salvaged from alien junk. Roy Harper would have a field day with the setup this guy’s made for himself.

“So that’s why you’re bailing,” Tim says, understanding. He can hardly blame the guy. “Why not just hide the truck somewhere?”

“Well…I did think about that,” Felipe admits. “Tiberius made us a pretty sweet pitch, once we went along with him. Not gonna lie, I was tempted. Tech is my thing, you know, but I can make a gun out of pretty much anything. I could see the possibilities, is what I’m saying, but that was before we met the new boss.”

Tim nods encouragingly. This is what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Listen, Red Robin - I know we’ve had our differences, but I respect you, man, you know that. You’ve been good to me, so I’m gonna give you some advice here. Stay the hell away from the new boss. Like, don’t even get involved. I’ve been henching for a while, and I’ve seen some messed up shit, but they are crazy. Está loca, you feel me? I’ve seen the hit list, and you’re right at the top of it. You and all the other capes. Half of Arkham, too. And they’re connected, like you wouldn’t believe. Shit, I’m already saying too much, man. You see the position I’m in here?”

“I do, Felipe,” Tim tells him. He hands over a stack of hundred dollar bills, their agreed-upon rate for information. “Where are you going?”

“You’re crazy too, if you think I’m telling you that,” Felipe scoffs.

Tim wasn’t expecting a straight answer anyways. “Fair enough. You heading out now?”

“Soon as you get the hell outta my car, yeah. You said you’d shadow me out?”

“I will,” Tim says. “From a distance. If you don’t see me, it means you’re clear to cross the bridge.”

“All right,” Felipe nods. “In that case, I hope I never see your ass again.”

Tim laughs, and climbs out of the truck.

He finds his own way out of the shipyard, pulls a bike out of a safe house, and catches up with Felipe’s GPS signal halfway to the Fashion District. Once he’s sure there’s no immediate threat, he calls Barbara.

“Red Robin to Oracle. I’m uploading a recording to the server.”

Barbara is in his ear at once. “You met with your informant?”

“He wouldn’t give me a name, but he let a couple things slip.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she says.

“First, he flinched hard when I brought up the Falcone name.”

“Confirms what we already know,” Barbara says. “Good. There’s more?”

“There’s more.” Tim tries not to gloat. This is, after all, a serious situation. “He was being cagey about mentioning the leader’s gender, so I was already suspicious, but then said ‘está loca’ when he was trying to warn me.”

Barbara whistles. “Well,” she says, sounding satisfied. “That’ll certainly narrow it down.”

“Yep,” Tim says grimly. “Looks like the new head of the Falcone family is a woman.”

***

(jason)

When Jason was Robin, the library had always been his favorite room in the Manor. It had spoken easily to his idea of what wealth was - rich people had fancy cars, sure, and maybe pools and expensive wardrobes, but wealthy people had art collections, and gardens, and libraries. Jason had spent hours upon hours browsing the shelves, reading anything he could wrap his brain around (and plenty of things he couldn’t), suggesting additions to Alfred, and avoiding his schoolwork in favor of learning about more interesting things, like string theory, or cryptology, or chemical warfare.

That was then.

Now, the library is the only place he can get a minute of peace from the constant barrage of his obnoxious, nosy, boundaryless family members. They’ve been characteristically persistent in their curiosity about him, and about Danielle, who is now Dani, courtesy of Stephanie. This is a nickname family, she’d said, and Jason hadn’t known how to disagree. So now she’s Dani, and Jason is family, and that apparently means he is no longer entitled to any privacy, or personal space for that matter. The only person who hasn’t barged in on him is Bruce, which is almost worse, in a way, because it’s one thing when nobody seeks him out, and it’s quite another when everyone does and then Bruce...doesn’t. Not that he wants Bruce to come up and bother him, God. But he’s in the man’s house, he’s hearing him on the comm constantly either on patrol or down in the cave, and all the other Bat brats and even Alfred are buzzing around him like flies. It’s too much - it feels like before, except for Bruce’s conspicuous absence reminding him that it’s not.

Sharing a bathroom with Dick is another before experience that Jason didn’t need a repeat of. In some ways, it was worse when he was Robin - stripping and showering after patrol in the cave with Dick a few feet away from him is a memory he really wouldn’t have minded leaving back in the Pit - and in other ways, it’s worse now, because Dick is always freaking around. There’s no reprieve, he’s not flitting off to the Titans every week like he used to be. Jason hasn’t gone half a day without Dick getting in his space, drawing up close to him and making that earnest eye contact he’s so annoyingly good at; sometimes wet, sometimes half-naked, sometimes both. And what can Jason do? He’s not going to leave Dani, and he needs Dick to be there so he can get some sleep every once in a while, or patrol, or shower. It’s actually been pretty helpful to have him around, in that regard, but if he has to see the guy walking around with bedhead and nothing but a pair of boxer briefs on one more time, he’s going to fucking explode.

So, the library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to Dani. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for Dani one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

He wonders, not for the first time, what exactly he thinks he’s doing, playing at this whole parenting thing. The rational part of his brain knows that this is a case, that Dani is a victim, that Jason is protecting her because it’s his job. The emotional part of his brain has gone completely off the goddamn rails. Case in point: he’s here with her in the library, prepping her for early literacy like some kind of Crest Hill soccer mom wannabe. Like he’ll even be in her life when she starts doing her ABCs - God willing, she’ll be as far away from him as possible by the time that happens.

It’s fucking hard to think about. He never thought he’d get this attached to a person who can’t even burp on their own. It’s been over a week, and he still struggles with putting her down, with stepping away from her, even when he knows he’s coming right back. Steph and Damian have been wanting to hold her all the time, and Jason knows that they’re capable, knows he has no claim over Dani, doesn’t even mind either of them all that much under normal circumstances, and still, he can’t help feeling like something has reached inside and gripped at his heart every time he passes her over. Which is ridiculous, because she’s not his, he has no more claim over her than any other schmuck off the street. She’s just a kid with unbelievably bad luck, and he’s the idiot who followed Dick up the stairs instead of booking it out the door like a sensible person.

He settles down with her on the couch, propping her up on a couple of pillows, giving her foot a little squeeze. She squeals, smiling at him, and stuffs her fingers in her mouth. God, Jason didn’t know he could feel the way he feels whenever she smiles at him. It’s gonna kill him when he has to give her up.

“If music be the food of love, play on,” he reads, walking his fingers up her leg. “Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.”

Dani watches him, chewing happily on her fingers. “‘O, it came over my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets.’ That’s you, you know.” He pokes her in the cheek, grinning. If music be the food of love…but hell, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. Especially when she’s all calm and engaging, the precious few minutes that he’s learned to appreciate in between finishing eating and being tired and cranky, when all she wants to do is look around at things, and all Jason wants to do, ever, is look at her.

The door to the library opens, and Jason goes from content to murderous in a fraction of a second. “What the fuck is it now,” he hisses, expecting Damian or maybe Tim, coming to nag him some more, and instead sees Damian’s friend Colin, who looks horrified to have intruded on him. Jason immediately feels like the world’s biggest ass.

“Sorry,” Colin whispers, mortified, and Jason waves a hand apologetically.

“My bad, I didn’t know it was you. Come in, it’s fine. She’s awake, you don’t need to whisper.”

Colin looks unsure, but soon nods and steps into the library, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Once inside, he dawdles by the nearest bookshelf, clearly at a loss. Jason probably should’ve just let him back out, because this is awkward. Should he keep reading to Dani? Talk to Colin? Ask him why he looks like someone just kicked him and stole his dog?

“You good?” he ventures, figuring he ought to at least attempt to be the adult in the room.

Colin glances at him over his shoulder, smiling tentatively. “Yeah, just bored. Damian’s sleeping, we had a rough patrol last night.”

“We?” Jason repeats, stunned. Bruce isn’t an exemplar of child welfare practices, sure, but letting Damian take other kids on crime-busting playdates? What the hell?

“Oh, I guess you don’t know,” Colin frowns. “I’m….uh, it’s probably easier if I just show you.”

He slides his jacket off, threadbare t-shirt hanging off his skinny frame. Jason tenses, not sure what to expect. When Colin’s arm starts to expand, his eyes widen. By the time his fist is as big around as Jason’s thigh, he thinks his eyebrows have probably disappeared into his hairline.

“Oh.” Jason has no idea how he’s supposed to react to this. Is Colin a meta? He’s pretty sure he would know if Colin was a meta. “How…?”

“Scarecrow,” Colin explains. Jason’s heart sinks. “He experimented on me with synthetic Venom. Batman saved me.”

Dani fusses, twisting her body and scrunching her face up. Jason sympathizes - this conversation is giving him gas, too. “Shit,” he says. Not the most articulate way of expressing his condolences, but Colin’s friends with Damian, so tact can’t be of great importance to him. “I didn’t know.”

Dani starts to cry, and Colin takes a couple steps forward, putting Jason’s hackles up at once. Stop it, he tells himself sternly. He might have fallen down a few pegs, but he’s not pathetic enough to square up against an abused fifth grader. He picks her up, rubbing her back, and then glances over at Colin. The kid’s gone shy, looking down at a point somewhere between Jason’s legs and the floor. Jason feels all the hostility bleed out of him, and he sighs.

“You can sit down.” He gestures to the couch, trying to sound nonthreatening. Dani burps, mouths at his shirt, and then gurgles and kicks her legs again. She leans back against his hold to stare at Colin, and Colin’s face splits into a huge grin. He tucks himself down into the cushions, keeping plenty of space between them, but Jason can sense from the inclination of his body that he wants to be closer. Well, if anyone has a right to be close to Dani, it’s the kid who rescued her in the first place.

“Here,” he offers, turning Dani around in his arms. His heart clenches, and he clamps down on his desire to flee. “You can hold her for a minute, if you want to. She likes you.”

Colin looks at him, eyes shining. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Go ahead. Honestly, you probably know a lot more about this shit than I do.”

Colin takes Dani from him carefully, smiling at her and laughing when she reaches forward to grab at his jacket zipper. A few seconds later, it’s in her mouth, along with most of her fist.

“Should I…?” Colin looks at Jason hesitantly.

“I mean…she’s had worse things in her mouth,” Jason tells him. A ringing endorsement of his child-minding abilities right there. “It’s fine, right? That’s how they build an immune system, or whatever.”

“Well, Alfred washed this for me last night,” Colin admits, looking embarrassed. “So it shouldn’t be too gross.”

Jason leans back against the couch cushions, crossing his arms. “Getting all the perks, huh?”

Colin shrugs, casting his eyes down again. “I like it here.”

Considering where Colin grew up, Jason supposes he can’t blame the kid. Still, he’s not quite wrapping his head around this sweet, genuinely nice kid being buddies with Damian. The demon brat isn’t exactly known for his winning personality, and Jason only knows vaguely how the two of them met, but what he’s heard doesn’t strike him as being particularly conducive to forging the lasting bonds of friendship.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to just ask. “Why’d you call Damian, the night you found her?”

Colin looks surprised. “I...don’t know,” he says, slowly. “I didn’t know who else to call? Damian’s my best friend, and he always knows what to do.”

Jason can’t keep the skeptical look off his face.

“And if he doesn’t, Bat….Bruce, I mean, definitely always knows what to do.”

Jason scrubs a hand over his face. Time to change the fucking subject. “How’d you two get hooked up, anyways?”

Dani turns her head to look at him, still eating Colin’s zipper. Sometimes, Jason gets the bizarre feeling that she can somehow tell when he’s about to blow a gasket. It’s probably a coincidence - she moves around a lot, and Jason has anger issues that flare up every ten minutes, so there’s bound to be some crossover - but it works, because it takes the fight right out of him every time.

“We worked a case together,” Colin says, holding Dani a little more securely against him. “About a year ago, I guess. Kids were disappearing from my orphanage, and from the shelters. I don’t think you were around.”

“I wasn’t,” Jason shakes his head. He and Roy had been busting a trafficking ring in Ibiza, and it had taken Jason over a month to get all the major players. “I heard about it a little, from Dick.”

Dick hadn’t given him too many details at the time - Jason had chalked it up to him having a few other things on his mind, but as Colin fills in the gaps, he starts to suspect Dick just didn’t want him going on a rampage. Which he absolutely would have - he still wants to, God. God. All those poor kids, just a stone’s throw from his old neighborhood. And of course the police had done jack shit - Zsasz is practically Black Mask’s pet, he probably paid them off to look the other way, not that most of them need the excuse - and Bruce was gone, and Jason was gone, and Dick was in over his head, and - fuck, it should never have fallen to Damian and Colin.

He waits for the fury to subside a little, not trusting what will come out of his mouth. Dani hums around her fist, blinking at him, and it helps. “Jesus,” he says, finally. “This fucking town.”

Colin’s mouth twists a little. “Yeah. But you were Robin, right? You probably saw worse things.”

Did he? Jason doesn’t remember. He doubts it, though. He can’t imagine he would’ve been satisfied with Bruce’s way of dealing with it.

“I wouldn’t have pulled my stroke, when I was Robin,” he muses. “Probably why Bruce never gave me a sword.”

No, Jason would’ve bisected the fucker. It still has appeal, though he thinks he would lean towards his favorite Sig rifle if he was taking care of it today. Headshots for the henchmen - anyone who signs on to that kind of operation, even in the most menial capacity, doesn’t deserve to breathe. Kneecaps and crotch shots for the spectators, to make sure they couldn’t get away. Gut shots for the kid-wranglers. And Zsasz....it’s tempting to want to draw it out, but Jason can feel the desire leaving him the longer he thinks about it. His imaginative tortures fade into a simple headshot, and even that isn’t satisfying. Fuck. He just can’t seem to hold onto his rage lately, even when he wants to. It’s all being replaced by some kind of anxiety, some kind of tenderness that aches, burning deep into him every time Dani looks at him, or touches him. Every time he thinks of her. Every time he feels Dick watching him with her, all warmth and affection.

Colin bounces her a little, making her laugh. Jason feels his revenge fantasy slip away.

“What’re you reading her?” Colin nods to the book still laying open in Jason’s lap.

Jason looks at it. “Oh, Twelfth Night. Shakespeare,” he adds, recalling that Colin is eleven, and likely not perusing great literature in his free time. “Figure it’s never too early to start her on the classics.”

Colin grins. “That’s cool,” he says. “Does she like it?”

“Beats me,” Jason shrugs.

“Read some?”

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Colin flushes. “Um. I mean, if you want…”

He decides to humor him. What the hell. “Sure, why not. ‘O spirit of love! How quick and fresh art thou, that, notwithstanding in thy capacity, receiveth as the sea.’”

Dani yawns widely, relinquishing her fist in a long string of drool. Jason laughs, and so does Colin. “Maybe jumping the gun a little,” he admits. “I don’t really know what kids are into these days.”

“Me either,” Colin says. “I think she liked it, though. See, she’s just sleepy.”

Jason feels a lump forming in his throat, and swallows hard against it.

“What does it mean? The part you were reading,” Colin asks.

“Um.” Jason doesn’t really know, he’s not exactly a literary scholar, but he’s always liked to work Shakespeare out on his own, finding meaning in the wordplay and running the metaphors through his mind until they line up in a satisfactory way. He doesn’t know if his interpretation is correct, exactly, but: “So this Duke, a guy called Orsino, is saying that he doesn’t want to be in love anymore. He’s talking about love and how everyone thinks it’s this wonderful thing, but the truth is that it actually just makes people miserable.”

Jason pauses, feeling like he just showed way too much of his hand. “Basically, he’s just complaining,” he finishes, uneasy.

Glancing at Colin out of the corner of his eye, he’s relieved to see that he’s occupied with Dani, and not paying attention to Jason at all. Thank fuck. If it’d been anyone else in the house sitting there, he’d be in for some horrible armchair psychology session, and he’d have to book it out the window and not return for several months.

“I think she wants you,” Colin says, as Dani ramps up her fussing. Jason takes her gratefully, holds her to his chest as she rubs her eyes and grumbles her displeasure at being passed around.

“All right, I hear you,” Jason murmurs, gently tugging her fists away from her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, come on. It’s not so bad.” Like he’s one to talk.

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, ever since pursue me, he thinks, rocking her tiny body into a comfortable position. Colin was only holding her for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and Jason was sitting less than five feet away, but he missed her. God, what is happening to him?

“Damian didn’t want to bring her here, at first,” Colin says quietly. “But I think he’s glad that we did. He really likes her, you know.”

Jason doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. It’s sweet, on some level. And he’s well aware that Damian likes her, going by the amount of time he spends hovering in the hallway outside Jason’s room, not to mention the increasingly expensive toys that keep showing up among her things.

He looks down at her, dozing off. “Well, she’s pretty easy to like.”

Colin nods, looking pleased.

“Damian, on the other hand....”

Colin grins. “He’s not so bad.”

He’s really not. Like hell Jason will ever tell him that, though. “You have bizarre taste, kid.”

Colin blushes, hard, and Jason blinks. Well. That’s interesting, isn’t it? Or it will be, in a few years. He makes a note to ask Dick about it, later.

“Are you gonna adopt her?” Colin asks, bringing Jason’s amused thoughts to a screeching halt.

Automatically, he says, “No way.”

Colin looks wounded. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t,” Jason replies. “I’m the last person who should be a parent, trust me.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

Doesn’t feel that way either - the thought floats up, unbidden, uninvited. He can’t. “She deserves better,” Jason says, heavily. “Even if….even I could handle it. She deserves better than this family.”

“But your family is - ”

“A death sentence.” He’s being harsh, but if Colin’s gonna be hanging around, he’ll find out for himself soon enough. “It’s fucking cursed, look. I couldn’t do that to any kid, especially her. You should get out too, while you still can.”

Colin looks angry, which surprises him. His hands are balled into fists, and Jason sees a tremor in them, a bulging that immediately sets off alarm bells in his head.

“Kid,” he says sharply. “Colin. If you’re gonna hulk out, take it outside. Alfred will have an honest-to-God stroke if you do it in here.”

A few deep breaths later, Colin looks normal again. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. “You’re wrong, though.”

Jason’s temper flares. “No offense, but I think I would know better than you,” he snaps. Dani grumbles sleepily in his arms, and he sighs out in frustration. “Trust me, okay? She’s better off. It never ends well, not in this family. I’m proof of that.”

But Colin shakes his head. “You don’t know,” he says. “My mom said the same thing, when she dropped me off at the orphanage. She gave the nuns a letter - she said I’d be better off with them than with her.”

Jason stills.

“It didn’t matter,” Colin continues. “Scarecrow still got me. Victor Zsasz still got me. Maybe they would have gotten me with her, too. Maybe I wouldn’t have been that much better off with her, but at least I would’ve been with her.” He sniffles, and Jason holds Dani a little tighter.

“I know she loved me.” His voice cracks. “I just wish...I wish I could’ve stayed with her. I wish she would have known that I never would’ve been better off away from her.”

He looks absolutely miserable, pitched forward and rubbing hard at his eyes. Jason is reminded painfully of how young Colin is, closer to Dani’s age than his own. He remembers being Colin’s age and younger, thinking the same thoughts about his own mother. How fiercely he’d guarded her, chased away the cops and the social workers, doing everything in his power not to be separated from her. Not that it mattered, in the end.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Colin, I’m sorry. For the record, I actually kind of get where you’re coming from.”

Colin looks up at him.

“Wish I didn’t, but. That’s life.”

“You should adopt her,” Colin says again, softly.

Jason shakes his head. “Colin…”

“You’ll think about it.”

He exhales. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” Like he’ll be able to think about anything else after this.

“She needs you,” Colin insists stubbornly.

Jason doesn’t reply. He knows on some level Colin is right - Dani does need him right now. She needs someone, at least, someone who can take care of her and protect her. Someone who isn’t afraid to shed blood to keep her safe. Jason doesn’t relish the thought, but he’s certain this won’t end tidily. Mob cases never do. It’ll be messy, and bloody, and Bruce will have a shit fit, and Dick probably will too, and Jason will go back to Crime Alley and Dani will get shipped off to Witness Protection or something, and damn, does that hurt to think about.

He looks over at Colin, still hunched over on himself, vulnerability written into every line of his posture. He’s desperately in need of a hug, or some kind of affection, validation, maybe. Or that’s just Jason projecting, who the fuck knows. If Dick was here, he would know exactly what to do for him. Jason’s at a loss, unable to separate his young self from the damaged kid sitting next to him.

He adjusts his hold on Dani carefully, laying her down flat along his arm, while he works out what to say. Finally, he settles on, “Damian’s lucky to have you.”

Colin sits up a little straighter. He looks like he’s waiting for more, but he’s shit out of luck, because Jason has no idea what else he needs to hear. No idea what he could say that wouldn’t be completely insincere, anyways. We can be your family, Colin. Like hell. Bruce has enough kids lined up waiting to die for him, he’s not about to encourage another one to be turned into cannon fodder for the man’s principles.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason says, after a moment. “That’s all I got.”

Colin smiles wanly. “Thanks, anyways.”

Jason snorts. “Sure.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jason stares. “Can you…what? Me?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Colin adds, averting his eyes.

Jason can’t even remember the last time someone hugged him. He thinks Roy might’ve, some eight or nine months ago, after they’d narrowly survived a warehouse explosion. Jason’s whole body had been ringing from the blast, so he doesn’t exactly remember the sensation of it. And before that…?

He imagines Dick’s reaction, if he was here. He’d be disappointed in Jason, that’s for sure. Really, Jay? You can’t hug a child? It’s a fair argument, he has to admit. Jason’s fucked up personal space issues don’t really apply to children, or babies, clearly. Colin’s obviously attention-starved, and Jason’s already holding one kid. What’s another, really.

“Okay,” he relents. “Hit me.”

There’s a shuffling motion next to him, and then Colin is hugging his free arm, leaning his head against Jason’s shoulder. Jason can’t quite contain his surprise - it’s weird, as expected, but it’s not dramatically increasing his desire to bolt through the nearest exit like he’d thought it would. It’s a little funny, actually. He’s pretty sure both Bruce and Damian would lose their shit if they could see him right now. Dick, too, most likely, but to his credit, it would be a happy kind of shit-losing. Damian would probably try to gut him.

Are there cameras in the library? Jason can’t remember. He kind of hopes there aren’t, because if anyone else sees this, he will absolutely never live it down.

***

(dick)

“Wait, I think that’s him.” Dick leans forward to peer at Tim’s screen. He points to the familiar looking figure. “That guy. Do you have a clearer shot?”

Tim skips a few photos ahead, and zooms in. “Him?”

“Yes. That’s the guy. Jason said he recognized him from your surveillance files. He was at the club the night we caught Susie Falcone.”

“The fourth night, was it?” Tim asks, innocently.

“Don’t be mean, Timmy.”

“Just clarifying,” Tim grins. Dick raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. I don’t have a ton of intel on this guy, he’s really slippery. According to my informant, he goes by Tiberius - some kind of mercenary, Greek or Albanian national. I doubt that’s his real name.”

Dick nods, studying the photographs. Tim continues, “He came over with Intergang as an enforcer, I think. Might’ve been Reynolds’ personal bodyguard.”

“Could explain how Reynolds got taken out,” Dick says thoughtfully. “He’s on the Falcones’ payroll now, but he’s not family. Might be an easy target.”

Tim opens his mouth, about to reply, when there’s a choked-off sound of fury from the Batcave below them.

“Was that Damian? He’s up already?” Dick asks, glancing down towards Bruce’s computer. He hops over the ramp to see what the fuss is about. Tim follows close behind.

“Everything okay?” Dick asks, approaching the wall of screens. There’s nothing that jumps out at him as being particularly alarming; Bruce is looking at DNA analyses, and Damian is looking at the Manor surveillance, tapping furiously at his ear.

“Todd!” he hisses. “What do you think you’re doing? Colin is my friend!”

“Robin,” Oracle’s voice comes through the speaker. “No names on the comms. And Hood isn’t wearing his earpiece, so you’ll have to tell him in person.” She sounds amused. “Oracle out.”

Damian swears.

“Holy shit,” Tim says faintly. “Look at them.”

The screen that all the Manor surveillance feeds run to is showing just one room - the library, of all places, but Dick vaguely recalls it being some kind of sanctuary to Jason, years and years ago. It makes sense that he’d end up back there, and it makes sense that he’d have Dani with him. What Dick doesn’t expect to see is little Colin Wilkes, all five feet and change of him, snuggled up to Jason’s side and hugging him, wrapped around his arm like a gangly koala. Dick can’t help but notice that Jason’s bicep is about as big around as Colin’s head, which is certainly...something. He’s not quite ready to classify how he feels about that, so he refocuses on the hug itself, which is nothing short of charming.

Damian grinds his teeth audibly. “It’s still going.”

“Oh, man.” Dick can’t help the grin he feels creeping up the sides of his face. “Bruce, are you seeing this?”

“I am,” Bruce says, stiffly. He looks like he’s in pain. Dick fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you? Look how sweet they are!” he exclaims, gesturing. It’s adorable.

“It is not sweet,” Damian snarls, whirling on him. “Todd is a corruptive influence, and Colin is young and impressionable! Where is your concern for him?”

Tim coughs, and it sounds a little bit like “jealous”. Surprisingly, this does not diffuse Damian’s indignation.

“I don’t get it,” Dick says, stepping between them quickly to block Damian’s spinning kick. “I thought you and Jason were fine, Damian. You’ve been spending enough time in our - in his room lately. Where’s this coming from?”

“Incredibly, I don’t feel as concerned about Todd recruiting an infant onto the path of lawlessness,” Damian retorts. “Colin lacks paternal guidance in his life, as you know. Todd clearly senses it.”

“Jason is very paternal these days,” Tim agrees.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a hug,” Dick says in exasperation. “No one’s recruiting anyone, Damian. And look, it’s over. Your friend is just a hugger, that’s all.”

“I must agree with Master Richard,” Alfred says from behind them. “Having been the recipient of many such embraces from young Master Colin myself.”

“See? I’ve gotten hugs from him too,” Dick tells Damian. “And I know you have, so don’t bother denying it. He’s probably gearing up the courage to get one from Bruce one of these days.”

Bruce looks slightly alarmed by the prospect. “He is?”

Damian looks conflicted. “He is?”

Dick casts his eyes heavenward. “Colin, I’m so sorry.”

Before he can say anything else, the Cave door opens below them, and Duke’s bike comes shooting in, whipping around into its parking spot in a move that would send Dick flying over the handlebars. Bruce takes about half a second to look impressed, and then clears the main screen to pull up their intel on the Falcone case.

“What’s up, guys,” Duke calls, pulling off his helmet and jogging up the steps. “I’ve got news. Where’s Jason?”

“Being hugged, in the library,” Dick tells him. “You just missed it.”

Duke looks nonplussed. “Damn. Wait, that’s not some kind of weird euphemism, is it? If it is, I don’t want to know.”

“It most certainly is not,” Damian says venomously.

“Cool. I tried to get him on the comm, but he didn’t respond. Should I go get him? He’ll want to hear this.”

“Damian will get him,” Bruce says.

Damian is…already on the elevator. Dick spares a thought for Jason. At least he’s holding Dani, so Damian won’t attack him outright.

“Your news?” Bruce prompts.

“Right,” Duke nods. “I’ve been all over City Hall records, and spent yesterday afternoon getting intel in the East End. I’ve got names and faces of most of the major players in this. They’re trying hard to front some distant nephew of Carmine Falcone as the head of the whole operation, but it wasn’t quite adding up. You said the new Falcone boss is a woman, right?” he asks Tim.

Tim nods affirmatively.

Duke looks triumphant. “Then I know who she is.”

***

#jaydick #in which there is so much plot all to justify the existence of 1 baby #low key this fic is my maternal love letter to colin wilkes #i miss him dc bring him back #my fics #heartlandverse

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demonwifey · 4 years

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Hey! Love your works, btw, it's really cute! Anyway..That's not what I'm here for. I'm here for a writing prompt? Request? Whatever: Basically I wanna see someone write headcannons/fanfics on loneliness. Yes, I know it's a deep and sad topic, but I want some cuddles with the bug boio

Thank you so much anon!💗💗💗 And thank you guys so much for being patient with me. I haven’t posted in a while because I was in a little bit of a slump. But I’m gonna do my best to put out more some more stuff. Hope you guys enjoy!💜🖤💚

Beetlejuice x fem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abusive parents

Word count: 3,602

What’s the one thing you and Beetlejuice had in common? You were both lonely. And it’s crazy how similar your stories were.

Beetlejuice had been alone his whole afterlife. His mother was a demon and a bitch, stuck raising a child she didn’t even want. And to do it all alone, she took her anger and frustration out on the only person around, Beetlejuice. She abused him both mentally and physically. She made him think he was something no one, not even her, could love. And for the longest, he believed it.

Your parents didn’t want you either, but they tried so hard to not show it. Your mother got pregnant in senior year of high school. To which both of their lives had to halt. While they did still graduate, college became a push back. The two of them had to find jobs to support you and themselves. They weren’t as harsh as Juno but they weren’t saints either. Making off-hand comments or blaming you for the way their lives turned out. There was barely a day when you didn’t hear “If it wasn’t for you, I could’ve been…”. The things you are never supposed to say to your child, they would say to you.

Even after you turned 18, you still needed to stay home. At least for those 4 years you needed for college. Once you got that out the way, you were on your own. Finally moving into your own house.

Beetlejuice finally found the family he wanted for so long. But now everything was crumbling underneath him. Lydia was 18 and now going off to college herself. Once they dropped her off at school, Charles and Delia were off to enjoy a vacation now that they had time to themselves. Adam and Barbara still had things to figure out in the Netherworld. So while they still would come home at the end of the day, they weren’t around as much. Beej was in desperate need for something to occupy his time. It was boring being in the Deetzes house with no one around. And if he couldn't scare the neighbors with Lydia, what was the point?

And that’s when you came into the picture. Beej’s powers allowed him to see and hear almost everything around the neighborhood. So, of course he had to watch you while you moved in. Without realizing it, you were only a few blocks away from the Deetz’s home. When you first arrived in town, you remember being curious about the strange looking house at the top of the hill. Your friends joked about it possibly being haunted, trying to scare you a little, but you only ignored them.

Even though they helped you unload the cars, you insisted that you didn’t need help unpacking. It would give you some time to yourself. Once they said their goodbyes, you started to notice the eerie energy of the house on the hill. It was a while away and looked so small from your window. Get it together, YN, you thought. This was the first time in your own house. You couldn’t let yourself get scared and huddle up in the corner like a baby. Everything’s scary when you’re on your own. You just gotta get used to it.

It really didn’t take much for Beetlejuice to show up. As funny as it would’ve been for him to scare you and your friends all together, he waited until they left. There was no limit to the fun he could have scaring this unbeknownst breather while you were alone.

Once he emerged into the house, he saw you were still unpacking boxes. There were random items and boxes scattered everywhere. The smile on his face was nothing less than evil. You were making this way too easy for him.

You were bent down, rummaging through a box or silverware and other kitchen items. You thought, at least you could start unboxing something easy. Of course, Beetlejuice wouldn’t be Beetlejuice if he didn’t stare at your ass while you leaned over. As he got closer, he realized your ass wasn’t the only great thing on you.

Beetlejuice has been dead for a millennia, which means he’s seen A LOT of breathers. And yet, you seemed to be one of the most beautiful ones he’s seen in a while. Boy, he was about to have fun with you.

While you were unwrapping some cups and placing them on the counter, you heard one of the cabinet doors behind you open. The creaking was so loud, it almost mirrored nails on a chalkboard. You turned around to see it just sitting wide open. Okay, you thought, maybe the hinges are a little too loose. Just something to try and give yourself a little reassurance. You walked over to close the door but before you could, it slammed shut right in front of you.

Umm....nope.

Beej couldn’t help but cackle at your face as you backed away from the cabinet slowly. As he was finished with you yet. He zipped around to the counter. Your back was still turned as he picked up one of the glasses you set down, loosely holding the edge with his finger. He leaned with one elbow on the counter and dropped the glass to the floor, not really needing to put in more effort. Your entire body jumped at the sound of the glass behind you, letting out a mini yelp while doing so.

“Well, aren’t you a cutie pie? Come one, dollface. Let me hear you scream.” Beej spoke as he looked around to see what else he could use to scare you.

This dude basically terrorized you all night long. Knocking stuff over, opening and closing doors, and finding anything to make eerie sounds. It was like you were stuck on the same level of a horror game. It was too late to call your friends back as they were already miles away from you. You didn’t call the police because what were they gonna do? Tase a ghost?

At first you were panicked but you realized that the ghost wasn’t actually going to hurt you. More like freak you out so you couldn’t sleep that night. It was going past midnight and you were still unpacking things here and there. After the last few boxes got knocked over, you had enough. You plopped yourself down on the couch before speaking loudly.

“Alright, ghost or demon or whatever. I’m just gonna assume you’re friendly like Casper since you haven’t done anything to me.”

Even though Beetlejuice was invisible, he was visibly frustrated. Why weren’t you getting scared? You should be screaming and running out of the house in utter fear. After about an hour, whenever he knocked something over, you just stared blankly before picking it back up. No matter what he did you didn’t flinch. Now here you were comparing him to ‘Casper the Friendly Ghost’? Hanging out with Lydia and the Maitlands really made him lose his touch, huh?

The demon man floated his way in front of you, watching as you laid on your side. He could see that you were on the verge of falling asleep, clearly worn out from all the unpacking. Your eyes were fluttering closed as you got comfortable, pulling your legs in towards your stomach and resting your hands under the side of your head.

“Mm, thanks for keeping me company.” You moaned out, your words slurring a little as you dozed off.

Was Beetlejuice about to let such a simple sentence get to him? Yes.

Before even meeting Adam and Barbara, if Beej couldn’t scare a breather, he wouldn’t waste his time. Although he’d be upset by it, he’d count his losses and go. With you he considered it...for like 2 seconds. But he couldn’t look away as you snored softly. He was so entranced at the way your chest rose and fell as you breathed lightly. You seemed so tired but still slept so delicately.

Wait, delicately? Since when was Beej using words like ‘delicately’?

He couldn’t dwell on it too long as you stirred in your sleep. Why did he flinch? You couldn’t even see him. The demon man just bent down watching you, admiring how soft and, again, delicate you looked. He wasn’t sure how long he watched you for until he saw the sun starting to come up.

Did he mean to watch you all night long? No. It just happened, okay?

For a second, he’d forgotten he was invisible to you. When you finally woke up, he flinched and moved backwards once your eyes met his. You only yawned and stretched to help wake yourself up.

You looked around at the left over boxes still scattered around your living room. It seemed like you did so much unpacking but there was still so much left. Rubbing your eyes, you went to make yourself some breakfast. But you stopped, looking at the shattered glass still sitting on the kitchen floor. That’s when you remembered last night’s weird occurrence. The apparent ‘ghost’ in your house had dropped one of your glasses on the floor. Along with making 100 other failed attempts to scare you. It seemed so real but you were also really tired. Maybe you imagined it all.

“Are you still here, ghost? Pfft, probably not-” And then you saw one of the glass shards rise a little into the air and then fall back down. “Okay, nevermind.”

****

So, now you were living with a ghost. You finally get the chance to leave your parents house, and this happens.

You weren’t exactly sure what to make of it. It’s not like the ghost was actually bothering you. You didn’t get scared at its antics anymore, and it even seemed to take on the role as a friendly ghost after a while.

If you were cooking the kitchen and dropped something, it would pick it up and place it back in your hand. Sometimes it would open the door for you when you walked into a room. After you got extremely comfortable with it around, it would even help you with little tasks around the house.

There was more than one occasion where it would hold the flashlight while you needed to hands to fix something.

You couldn’t explain it but you were just glad to have someone around. Even if it was a ghost.

Beetlejuice wasn’t sure what made him want to be around you. A simple answer was that you were an extremely hot breather that he liked looking at. If that was the case he wouldn’t put so much effort into being nice to you. Which is what made it difficult for him to understand.

Being around you filled something in him that he didn’t know needed to be filled.

Spoiler alert: you both are lonely idiots that don’t realize how lonely you are.

One particular night, you came home from your new job extremely worn out. Your position was entry level so they basically treated you like a college intern. “Bring me this, take this here, do this right now.” Were the only things you heard all day. And it didn’t help that your mom had called you as soon as you got home.

She called to ‘check in’ but really it was her putting you down. Making back-handed compliments about finally moving out. Practically insulting you without even being provoked.

To end the night you took and shower and cozied up in your favorite hoodie. While only wearing a pair of panties underneath. You were laid out on your bed, trying to find something to watch on TV. Of course, just because you needed a distraction there was nothing on.

And social media didn’t make you feel any better. All you saw was your friends posting pictures and statuses about hanging out for the weekend. You missed them, and missing them made you miss being back home. And thinking about home made you remember the bullshit your parents put you through. 100 things were running through your head and then suddenly you felt a lump in your throat.

Not far after did the tears start and you couldn’t stop them. You laid on your side, silently sniffling as you cried. You were all alone in your own place and you still were stuck in the habit of crying quietly. What did it matter? No one was there to hear you.

Except for Beetlejuice.

He was having a bit of a rough night too. He’d been hanging around your house all day, which seemed to be the new normal. But just an hour before you got back home, he headed back to the Deetzes house. When he wandered in, he caught Adam and Barbara talking amongst each other, looking even giddier than normal.

Of course, he wouldn’t be Beetlejuice if he didn’t make a crude joke to announce his entrance. Ignoring his distasteful humor, the couple then told him that they just got done talking with Lydia. And Beetlejuice was pissed.

Although any aware person could see Beetlejuice getting physically angry. His hair turning red, fists balling up, and the look on his face was nothing short of utter rage. Even the air around them was getting hot and dense But somehow the Maitlands didn’t notice. Barbara only continued on telling how Lydia was gushing about school. She’d made some new friends, joined the photography club, and all of her classes were going well. She called Charles and Delia on the regular but wanted to give check in on her ghost friends.

Sure, Beetlejuice was happy to hear that for Lydia. But he was still mad he didn’t get to hear it straight from the source. Lydia had been gone for about 2 months and he was missing his best friend. Now the opportunity came to talk to her and he just missed it. With no explanation, he made his way back out of the house. The last thing he heard was them gushing about Lydia having a crush on some girl in her class.

It was something so small but it hurt Beetlejuice. His best friend was growing up without him there to see it. Soon enough she was gonna forget all about him and only focus on her stupid new college friends. And if she didn’t care about him, why would anyone else in the house care? Now his thoughts were hitting some all at once.

Although he couldn’t see, the color in his hair was rapidly changing between red, blue, and purple. He needed a distraction. So he headed back down to you. But when he arrived, he wasn’t met with your normal joyous demeanor.

You were huddled up on your bed, crying and whimpering. So softly it almost sounded like the squeaks of a tiny mouse. Although small streaks of red were still there, more purple took over his hair. So he wasn’t the only one having a bad day.

Beetlejuice wasn’t exactly sure if he should’ve bothered you or not. He wasn’t sure what was wrong or how he could help in any way. He had his own problems to sit on so maybe he’d just chill in your living room and blow off his steam there. As he went to float out of the room, he heard you speak.

“I don’t know if you’re still here or not, ghost. But I could really use some company right about now.” You hiccuped out. You hated to sound like a child but fuck it. Talk to a ghost or not talk at all? The first seemed like the better option.

You sat up for a second, looking around for a sign that the ghost was actually near. You got a response with one of your pillows lifting up to hit you on the thigh. You let out a small huff and giggle mix, thinking about how if this was 2 months ago, you would’ve been scared out of your mind. You wiped away some of your tears as you sat up fully.

“I know you probably don’t wanna hear me whining though. I think just knowing someone’s around makes me feel a little better.” As if to tell you it was okay the pillow hit your thigh again, causing you to laugh even more. Still a little hesitant, you talked about your day. It felt good to get your feelings out, even if it looked like you were just talking to a pillow.

You weren’t sure how long you had talked for, all you know is that it was getting late and you were getting tired. Your face felt puffy from the crying, at certain points you had to stop and let out a few tears here and there before finishing the story. Without even realizing, you laid your head down to get more comfortable.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day, ghost. I’m listening, I promise.” You quietly spoke, even if you felt your eyes starting to flutter closed.

“Pff, babycakes, you won’t believe the day I’ve had.” He knew good and well you couldn’t hear him but it felt good to vent. He held the pillow as he talked; he would walk or float around the room with it in his hands. Since you could only see the pillow, you could only assume the ghost was speaking like you asked.

You were in and out of sleep while Beetlejuice talked but he didn’t mind. You were making an effort to still stay awake for him and that’s all that mattered. Plus, he loved how cute you looked when you tried to keep your eyes open. After a while, he looked at the clock sitting on your bedside table. 2:16 a.m. He stopped floating around and was standing by the side of your bed.

“Mmmm, are you done, ghost?” You spoke with your eyes finally fluttering closed for the night.

Something about the way you looked made Beetlejuice’s dead heart flutter. So peaceful and comfortable. You couldn’t see him yet you knew he was there, and you weren’t afraid of his presence. Unbeknownst to him, his hair was slowly fading into a baby pink color. Without thinking, he dropped the pillow floated over to the opposite side of your bed, your back now facing towards him.

Not putting much thought into it, he crawled onto the soft surface. Before he knew it, he was laying behind you and slowly wrapping one arm around your waist. The small amount of heat that came from your body warmed up the front of his. It was nice, he thought.

“I think I can feel you, ghost.” Beetlejuice stiffened against you. He would’ve jumped backwards if you didn’t rest your hand over the one he had on your stomach. You more than likely felt the small chill coming from his body without actually feeling him. You couldn’t feel him. It wasn’t possible. But your hand on his calmed him more than he would ever tell.

“You’re breaking my heart, doll. You don’t have to keep calling me that. Call me BJ.” He spoke quietly. Or so he thought.

“BJ? That’s a cute name.” You said, shocking Beetlejuice completely. Fuck, he’d been a demon for how long and he’d completely forgotten that he could throw his voice. It didn’t seem to matter though. You were basically in a sleepy daze, so it didn’t really click that you had heard a random voice echo off your walls.

“Thanks for sticking around, BJ.” You whispered before letting yourself fall asleep entirely. The chill from his presence was giving you goosebumps, even in unconsciousness. Beetlejuice’s cheeks would’ve turned red if his face wasn’t already bone white.

He laid there with you for most of the night. Obviously he didn’t sleep so there was nothing he could do except watch you. Much like the first night you moved in. Except this time you were pressed against him.

It was around 5 in the morning when he decided to poof away. Something about the way your body warmth was making him feel so flustered and overwhelmed. He rested himself in your attic, much like he would often do at the Deetzes.

When you woke up later in the morning, something felt off. You rubbed your eyes before looking around, like you were looking for someone. You were so tired that everything seemed like a dream last night. But even so, your bed felt empty.

Some things were a little foggy but one thing you do remember was the name ‘BJ’. Where it came from, you didn’t really remember. Finally sitting all the way up you saw one of your pillows sitting on the floor. And it hit you. The ghost that was occupying your house was named BJ. And somehow he told you that.

You sat looking at the pillow a second before snorting. “Come one, Y/N. That’s stupid.” You muttered to yourself. It was one thing to have a ghost in your house, but now it was talking to you? And his name was BJ. You must’ve been really out of it, you thought.

Even with your doubts, you still couldn’t shake the empty feeling you felt on your body. You still held onto the name BJ as well. You got off your bed and picked up the pillow off the floor. This all somehow mimicked the first night you moved in.

“BJ,” You mumbled to yourself. “Maybe it’s not such a crazy idea.”

Hope you guys enjoyed and thanks for reading!💜🖤💚

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice fanfiction #Beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice headcanons #anon asks #anon requests

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betelgeuse-boo · 4 years

Text

WARNING: NSFW !!!

If you are a minor or someone who does not want to see smut, please scroll past this post!!! Thank you!

Extensive Info/Warnings: Penetration, almost ‘caught in the act’, reader has breasts and a vagina and uses she/her pronouns

For @rhodochrosite-love; “How about Beej and a fem reader having some very loving sex but only realize they’re in the Deezlands living room when they’re caught by Adam and Barbara?”

Love this idea! I hope you’re okay with me tweaking it just a bit so that it’s almost being caught and not quite actually being found out! Thought that would add some excitement >w> Thank you so much for the ask!

Words: 3332

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“Almost Caught”

It was no secret that you and Beetlejuice had enjoyed each other’s presence. Between the constant flirting on both ends, abundant PDA, and overuse of pet names, everyone in the Deetz-Maitland household would usually distance themselves when you visited. Not because they didn’t enjoy your company, of course, but Beej would often hog you to himself and his overly doting attitude towards you would make all the other household inhabitants sick. Thankfully, you two had the house practically to yourselves today! ...The operative word being “practically”.

Adam and Barbara Maitland were housebound their afterlife, the only place other than their home that they were allowed to reside in being the Netherworld. They preferred to stay in the house that they shared with their strange gained family, and while they were often about in other rooms in the abode, they had recently learned to stay in the attic when you would visit after giving you a brief greeting. They always intended to flee before seeing Beetlejuice press a thousand kisses against you.

The house was quieter than usual as the Deetzes were gone- on a road trip to Vermont for some sort of convention Delia was interested in. After the ghostly married couple said their hellos to you and promptly dashed upstairs after BJ picked you up into a tight bear hug, you found yourself relaxing on the couch with your demonic partner. The green haired spectre was talking, at length, about how his week went, making sure to not leave out the details of eating an infestation of bugs that were found in the attic so that the Deetzes “wouldn’t have to call pest control”. You found yourself almost apprehensive as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, but as he informed you he had ‘taken care of’ the issue a couple of days prior, you figured it’d be okay to let him continue to smooch you. Hopefully...

Conversation between the both of you died down as he got lost in cuddling with you, his big, clawed hands holding you as gingerly as he could, the bulky demon taking turns between nuzzling you and peppering kisses all over your face. He was quite the sucker for both giving and receiving affection, and he always did an amazing job in making you feel loved. As he wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his soft yet clammy body, he muttered against your neck.

“I missed you.”

It had only been about a week and a half since you last saw him in person, but your job involved traveling out of town a lot. You had been unable to summon him in partial fear of him wrecking the hotel you stayed at and in partial responsibility in desiring to get full nights of sleep so that you could perform adeptly at work. Of course, you had missed Beetlejuice and you were hoping to transfer to a job soon where you could stay in town so that you could spend more time with him.

“I missed you too, bug,” You replied, pulling away from him slightly to see him smiling at you, happy to hear that he was wanted. His relatively innocent sentimentality faded as the doofy grin transformed into a smirk, one of his hands sliding down your back and resting at your butt for a moment before he squeezed it with a crude chuckle.

“And I missed this too.” A chill traveled up your spine as the sensation of him touching you paired with the sound of his gravelly voice lowering ever so slightly to a more suggestive tone. Beetlejuice paused, his eyes finding yours, and you leaned forward to plant a kiss against his lips- intentionally banishing the bug eating anecdote he had given moments before to the recesses of your mind- cupping his ever so slightly warmer cheek with your hand.

You knew complimenting him like this would go to his head, but figured it was still worth telling him. “I...thought about you a lot while I was away.” With this, you trailed one of your hands down his chest and over his plush belly before groping ever so slightly at his crotch, eliciting a soft gasp out of him. Your bug’s gaze grew more intense as he somehow scooched even closer to you, continuing to idly rub and pinch at the fat on your butt. The demon moved in to kiss at your neck, making you shiver once more at the initial electric sensation the contact gave you. A halfway stifled gasp soon left you as he incorporated his sharp teeth- gently nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh, holding you flush against him.

While this was incredibly arousing, you couldn’t help but feel that doing this sort of stuff in the living room felt...odd. Like, the space was too open. “Do you think we should take this somewhere else?” You asked hesitantly, though there weren’t really many options to do more sensual stuff with BJ in the Deetz-Maitland household. The bedrooms, of course, were off limits, the Maitlands were currently in the attic, the kitchen just felt…wrong. You had normally only had sex with Beetlejuice when you had summoned him into your home instead of when you visited him at this location, and the one other time you had done anything sexual in this house was in the bathroom one night when everyone else was asleep.

Beej laughed against your neck and you jumped at the sensation of his cold breath hitting the saliva coated skin he had previously been sucking on. “There’s no one else home, babes. The married dorks are doing some project upstairs and you know they can’t hear shit up there. Especially when they get in their ‘zone’, heh.” As you were silent, he pulled away, removing his hands off you and holding them up. “If you want to stop we can-”

“-No!” You interjected, a bit more vigor in your reply than you anticipated, BJ smirking at the enthusiasm. “....Okay. If you’re sure the Maitlands won’t be able to hear anything then I’m fine doing it here.”

“That’s my girl.” Beetlejuice purred, clambering on top of you and cautiously pushing you down so that you were reclining on the couch, your neck propped up by the armrest. There was hardly enough room for his 6’5, 300 pound frame in this position on the couch, but he was determined in making you feel good after not having been able to for what seemed like forever to him. He began to rub at your sides, locking his lips with yours, that great big striped tongue of his quickly finding its way into your mouth. The two of you french kissed for a while, making up for lost time you guessed, before you felt Beej begin to rut against you, the both of you still fully clothed. A needy growl came from the demon on top of you as you could feel his erection press against your belly, and he had finally fully broken the kiss for the first time in what felt like ten minutes to comment that you were amazing.

While you normally graciously accepted his compliments, there was something about him praising you during sexual acts that made you red and almost bashful. You choked out a ‘thank you’ before he gave you one last, brief kiss on the lips and pulled slightly away from you so that he could undo your button down shirt, fumbling with the buttons as he was way too eager to see what was under the garment. You stifled a giggle and let him flounder before he groaned in annoyance at the damned buttons and snapped his fingers, your shirt momentarily going up in a puff of green smoke before dropping to the floor next to the couch. Thankfully, he got your bra off without a hitch, and he moaned softly at the sight of your chest. “God, I missed these too,” Beetlejuice sighed out, pinching at the nipple on your right breast and grinning at seeing you inhale at the sensation. “Did you think about me playing with your body like this?” His yellow sclera seemed to glow as he locked eyes with you, rolling his fingers over the nub achingly slow.

You quickly nodded in response, arching your back as electric arousal coursed through your body. Through having done intimate acts with you for some time now, Beetlejuice had gotten the hang of touching you in just the right ways. He always made it a point that he wanted you to be as turned on as possible and that seeing you aroused because of him was practically enough to get him to cream his pants. In other words, the ghost enjoyed playing with your body.

Pleased at your affirmation, a rumble left his chest and he placed his hand on your other breast, squeezing and groping at the whole thing instead of just the nipple. “I thought about your pretty little self under me just like this, baby. Thinkin’ bout it got me jerking off so much pretending I was fuckin’ you,” He said with a laugh, relishing in you squirming with pleasure under him. “Can’t wait to cum inside the real thing after so long.”

“It’s been a week and a half!” You giggled, voice quieter than usual as you found it difficult to speak when you were aroused.

“I said what I said. That’s too long.” He returned to laying over you, making sure not to place his entire weight against you as he preferred that you were breathing, and began to nip at your earlobe, hands still against your breasts. At this angle, you could smell the dust that was collected in his locks, of which were now steadily turning pink. He was a master with his mouth- he had used it for God knows how many things that he could now excellently position his lips, tongue, and teeth to make sure he was making you feel the best you possibly could. Whining as you could feel his cold breath in your ear, you reached your arm up and held the nape of his neck, holding him against you. The space in between your thighs was incredibly tingly now, in between not having done anything of a sexual nature in a bit and Beej being admittedly good at foreplay, you felt like you needed him that very second.

“I want you inside me now,” You murmured against him, and you heard him purr in response as he finished nibbling at your ear. Rising just a bit so he could plant his forehead against yours, he took a moment to catch his breath- you were still unsure on why exactly he still breathed despite allegedly not needing to.

“Okay, sweets,” He responded, getting off you and clumsily undoing your jeans, managing to get them off without magic too. As he pulled the waistband of your pants down, he brought your panties off with them too- it was clear he was also eager to get right into it. However, as you sat there expectantly, waiting for him to push you down once more, he left his hands on your thighs and swallowed before asking, “Is it okay if you, uh, get on top this time? It’s kinda...hard to really get leverage on the couch,” Looking almost flustered, he flashed you a questioning, toothy grin, and you nodded.

“Of course!” With this, Beej kissed your cheek and shifted so that he was in a similar position to the one you were just in, and you quirked an eyebrow. His signature two piece pinstripe suit was still on him. “Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”

He shook his head and yanked the waistband of his pants and boxers down, his dick springing up after he got his pants down to rest at his upper thighs. “Too lazy, plus I kinda’ like how warm fuckin’ with my clothes on makes me,” You wondered how he could possibly be too lazy to snap away his own clothes but you didn’t question it, wanting your bug to be as happy as he made you. After climbing on top of him, you played with his hair as you positioned yourself over his erection. Beetlejuice was in awe at the sight of your body, staring at your face and chest and hips and- he was suddenly squeezing his eyes shut, a long groan escaping him as you led him into you, half of his length enveloped by your warm vagina. One of his big, clammy hands found its way up to your hip, squeezing it as he rolled his own hips forward just a bit, pressing more of his dick inside of you. It didn’t take long before the both of you found a rhythm, you bouncing on top of him and him lazily rolling his hips under you.

Neither of you were particularly quiet either- and it only took a moment before pleasured noises and groans were coming from the both of you, only silenced partially when you caught his lips in a kiss. When you had gotten all of him inside you, you sat there and relished in the feeling of it for a moment. His dick was more than substantial for you; his dick always made you feel nice and full. The arousal was almost painful as you continued to bounce on him, feeling him grip at your hips and thighs and ass and- it took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that he had summoned his extra limbs to grope at more spots on you at once. Beej was hissing with pleasure and grumbling under his breath in his demonic language- he’d only really start speaking in the infernal tongue when he was really mad or really happy. It was easy to guess that the latter was the case in this situation. It was surprisingly arousing to watch him dip into his more arcane side, but it was as equally arousing when his eyes found yours and his gaze softened.

“F-fuck, baby, you feel fantastic around me,” Beej whined, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. Looks like using his suit as a sauna was working for him. He was choked up, almost overstimulated with pleasure, his claws pressing into your soft flesh. You couldn’t help but huff back in response as you continued to move your body on top of him, your own hands circling his chest and tummy.

“And you feel fantastic inside of me.” You moaned out, having to speak just a bit louder over the sounds of your body meeting his. One could say that Beetlejuice had a praise kink, as he whined at the slightest mention of being good for you. The demon was basically drooling at this point, basking in the euphoria that the very notion of pleasing you brought. His hands- all six of them that were currently on you- aided you in your motions now, shifting your body up and pulling it back down against him. His penis was throbbing inside of you- you could feel it, the demon was already nearing orgasm. It was cute how easily you got him to cum- your bug was initially embarrassed, thinking that it wasn’t desirable to be essentially a two pump chump, but you couldn’t disagree more. You loved making him feel good as he did you. Nothing was as arousing and gratifying as when he flooded any one of your openings with his cum, and it would often bring your own orgasm on prematurely too.

Trembling under you, you heard him beg for you to keep going, him all but singing your praises under you, losing his rhythm and just slamming his hips upwards now. He wasn’t lying, he was desperate to empty out his balls inside of you after a week and a half of having to get himself off, the poor thing. You were more than happy to accommodate- since he was a demon, he couldn’t get you pregnant due to some weird rules from the Nether. It was completely safe for him to make a cream pie out of you, and that’s honestly the way you preferred it anyways. It always felt weirdly dirty and you appreciated that.

“Th-that’s my bug,” You choked out, tears prickling in your eyes from the overwhelming euphoria encompassing all of you. Beetlejuice hummed at the nickname. “You’re almost there, baby.”

The two of you kept going for a few moments, the big demon under you whining your name out as he could feel the onset of his orgasm. Sharp claws sunk into you as he pulled you against him one last time, about to explode inside of your warmth- however, something seemed to grab his attention as his pointed ears perked up, his previously closed eyes snapping open. While you paused and were about to ask him what was wrong, he began to mutter “fuck” over and over, snapping his fingers. In an instant, all your clothes were back on, albeit messily, and your ghost was hastily pulling his pants and underwear over his erect cock- which was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum- and tucking his undershirt in.

“What-” Was all you managed to say before you jumped at a voice behind you.

“Hey, (Y/N), would you happen to know the name of that one animal you were telling us about?” You recognized the voice belonged to Adam Maitland, and it was coming from the top of the stairs. Awkwardly, you turned around to face him, wondering why in the world that was such a burning question that he had to come down unannounced. As you opened your mouth to respond, you could see Adam’s expression shift, and Barbara piped in too, walking out from the upstairs hall and standing behind her husband.

“Adam was saying that you said it was ‘capybara’ but that doesn’t feel right. Aren’t capybara those big rodents? The one we’re talking about are small ones.” It was Barbara’s turn to stare at the both of you- her eyebrows knitting together as she noted how… uncharacteristically unkempt you in particular looked. “Are we interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” Beetlejuice sarcastically responded, turning to face the couple too. You could see out of the corner of your eye that his hair was back to green, smidges of red running through it. “You’re thinking about a ‘jerboa’, Adam. Not a capybara.”

Adam’s face lit up with the realization that he had gotten the rodent’s name wrong. “Ahh, right.” His expression dropped after he noticed Beej scowling at him. “...Right, well, uh, thanks!” He quickly ducked out of view while Barbara stood still, quirking an eyebrow down at the two of you.

“What is it, Babs?” Beetlejuice sighed.

The blonde woman shrugged. “Maybe don’t do...that on the couch next time. If Delia notices a stain she’s gonna’ have your heads. I’d spray some Oxi-Clean on it if I were you.” With this, she turned and followed after her husband, leaving you and the demon feeling incredibly awkward.

A few moments passed before Beetlejuice stood up and said, “Welp, that was the worst thing to ever happen.” His expression softened as he looked at you and he ran his fingers through his mane, now back to its neutral green. “Sorry that was cut short. I could hear them leave the attic cause...y’know, superhuman senses and all.” He tapped one of his pointy ears.

You placed a hand on his thigh and smiled, finding humor in the situation. “It’s okay, Beej. It was fun.” Rising as well, you straightened your clothes out and planted a kiss against his chest. “...And besides, we can always try for round two at my place after we clean this couch.”

Pink strands began to jut through his locks again, a doofy grin once again finding its way onto his face. “Yeah. I’d like that, baby.”

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x self insert #beetlejuice x you #next time i may aim for less words #im proud of this but it took all day to write dfljfjk which is my own fault #also i didnt proofread like half of it -#sunny’s stories ☀️☁️

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lasignoramain · 3 years

Text

Tempus Fugit

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: Major Character Death

Relationship: Jean/Lisa

Summary: "Before demanding too many miracles from the gods, first consider if you are willing to pay the price they ask."

Sometimes, the sand of one's hourglass moves too quickly. What happens when Lisa's time runs out?

Word Count: 3088

Read under the bar, and/or on AO3!

Who knew that helping Barbara convince Jean to go on vacation would lead to Lisa Minci, the simple librarian of the Knights of Favonius, taking on the role of Acting Grand Master? Kaeya could have asked anyone— Amber, for instance. The young girl would be more than willing to take on the role and perform amicably. Even Eula would gladly take on the role of Acting Grand Master, and would most likely view it as a challenge. A test, to see if she's one the same level as Jean when it comes to taking on the tasks of Grand Master.

Even with those candidates, both of which would be ready and raring to assist while Kaeya shirks his duties, he chose Lisa.

Lisa, who chose the measly tasks of a librarian for a reason. Her job is rarely stressful, though she still takes it just as seriously. Jean entrusted the library to her, after all, so she wouldn't disappoint the woman she's severely indebted to.

Jean, as well as Grand Master Varka. Although Varka was adamant on Lisa being the Captain of the 8th Company. Absentmindedly, Lisa grasps at the Vision resting on her chest. The Knights of Favonius— they're all flawed people with ideals and goals independent of their occupations. They don't always act as one would expect.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves, even if it means that you might sacrifice yourself in the process.

Why?

A protector, a guardian, both a shield and a sword, dandelions floating in the Anemo-blessed breeze. A warm smile, gloved hands resting over Lisa's. Determination to work hard to fill the shoes that Grand Master Varka left her, stress building when one too many stacks of paper rest on her desk. Still, she presses on, a storm of productivity. Sacrificing herself for—

For what, exactly, does Jean sacrifice herself for? Or maybe the correct question is who?

The obvious answer would be the people of Mondstadt. They're all grateful for Acting Grand Master Jean— grateful to the point where they're too reliant on her. A lost cat that will inevitably return when it's hungry, advertising papers lost in the breeze that could easily be remade in a day or less. Freedom shackled by a doting Acting Grand Master who can't say no to the people she's meant to protect.

Lisa clears her throat, shaking the dizziness away. Just a few more papers to review and sign, then she'll return to the library to ensure that things are running smoothly.

Is Jean thinking of her while she's away with Barbara and Klee? With Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo, Razer, and Lumine? Hopefully, she's enjoying her vacation thoroughly, reconnecting with that relaxed, fun side that she once had when she was younger. Not that Lisa knows personally what Jean was like before she began shouldering the burdens of a Favonius Knight; she's only heard stories from Barbara, who's always more than willing to share the memories she holds so near and dear to her heart.

Her... heart. When did Lisa's chest start aching? Dull, but uncomfortable nonetheless. Nothing to worry about, it should go away in a few minutes.

Perhaps Kaeya and Diluc will have a small moment of bonding while they're on those islands together. While they're brothers, they've been so distant for so long. Not that Lisa knows why— the reasons of their tense relationship is a mystery even to her. Such a fragile thing the two of them have. Lisa hopes they eventually reconcile.

As for Klee, she's most likely ecstatic to have so many friends with her. Hopefully she'll be even more overjoyed when she realizes who's behind her summer getaway. Lisa played along for the young girl's sake, though she would know that handwriting anywhere, even if Alice tried to change it up. She still dotted her I's the same, and her A's had that exact flourish to them that made it obvious to Lisa.

The omnipotent mage. How much knowledge has she acquired in her travels, compared to what Lisa knows? Does Alice know the truth of why the Archons bestow Visions on mere mortals? Is Lisa paranoid for good reason, or is a fool to be terrified by whatever grand scheme the gods have in store for those "blessed" with obtaining a Vision?

"Before demanding too many miracles from the gods, first consider if you are willing to pay the price they ask."

Blessings will always hide their curses in the depths of the shadows, only rearing their heads when given the best opportunity to cause the most damage.

The dull ache in Lisa's chest turns into a sharp, stabbing pain. Gasping, she keels over, resting her forehead on the cool, polished wood of her desk. Her hat flops unceremoniously off of her head and onto the desk, knocking over a jar of ink and a few stacks of papers.

Always... they always come with a cost.

It wasn't even her Vision that did this to Lisa. Still, she's lived her life, hasn't she? Her hourglass just has less sand than most, and she accepted that a long time ago.

Still, why now? Of all the times, when she's alone. No one to be by her side when she goes. Can't she have this one thing? To have someone hold her close to them while her time finally runs out? Or will she be alone as she always has been, holding everyone at an arm's length, too afraid to grow attached and lose someone, grieve over a lost life?

"Jean..."

Help. She needs help. Her blood is rushing so loudly in her ears, but if she can just manage to get up and find someone, call for help, and she might be able to extend her life just for a little while longer, at least until she can see Jean—

A cough rises up Lisa's throat, and, through her delirious vision, she sees the blood more than tastes it. Is her sense of taste the first thing to go? What about her other senses? Can she still feel her hands, the wooden desk her forehead is resting on, the thrum of her Vision on her chest?

Numb. Numb is all she feels. Is that a feeling, or a lack thereof?

Fuck, she needs to move. If she can just find Eula, or- or Amber. Hell, if she can just get the attention of the guards stationed outside the door.

Power through it, Lisa. This is what you've been saving your energy for— to fight your fate for just one more day. Curse the Archons, curse this Vision, and curse that stupid. Magic. Book—

Lisa groans, slowly pushing herself up from her desk. The entire room is spinning— how is she going to get anywhere like this? It's laughable, really. How many people have referred to Lisa as elegant, refined, composed? This— her, right now— is the complete opposite of how many view her.

Oh, how embarrassed she would feel if she wasn't on the precipice of death, desperate for someone to save her. Where is her knight in shining armor? Any moment now, she should be bursting through that door, always prepared to play hero for everyone.

So, where is her hero?

Lisa's hand slips on the edge of her desk. She barely has the strength to catch herself, so she falls with a loud crash. She needs to get her act together— it would be so embarrassing for Jean to see her like this, wouldn't it? A sweating, shaking mess.

But Jean won't say anything about the state Lisa's in. She'll just give Lisa that warm smile before gathering her up in her strong arms, and then they could go to Windrise for a picnic, or— or even Starsnatch Cliff, so they could pick Cecilia flowers together. Then they could have some tea before they have to go back to work.

Jean. Jean, Jean, Jean.

The floor is so cold, Jean. It's dark, Jean. It was light outside just a moment ago, Jean, where did the sun go? Goodness, how the time flies. To think that you and I only met a short while ago, Jean. I'm so happy that I met you, and— and the rest of the Knights of Favonius, Jean.

A door slams open. Footsteps, but it all sounds so far away. So far, Jean, you're so far away. Can't you come back? Can't you come home, just for me?

"Her... is grave. We need... to the Church, and, while you're at it... the bard. He can send for Jean— don't ask questions, just do as you're told!"

Ah, Lisa can't feel a thing. Is this what death feels like? Nothingness? Her hearing is all she has left. What happens after she loses that, too?

They mentioned Jean. By the time they get a hold of her, it'll be much too late, and not even Barbatos can save Lisa. Perhaps he can keep her spirit here, just for a little longer? She wants to see everyone one more time.

Please. Just once more.

But that would be a bother— Jean is on vacation. Lisa can't be selfish, can't take her away, can't be selfish.

"Come on, Lisa... stay with us."

Who is that? Eu...la. Eula.

Eula.

Lisa wishes she could apologize.

"Until I enact my vengeance on all of the Knights of Favonius, no harm can come upon any of them! Including you, Lisa. I'll make sure that nothing happens to you, or Jean, or Amber—"

Eula's a good person. Strange, but she fits in perfectly with the rest of the Knights. Caring in her own way. She doesn't know about why Lisa has the condition that she does, and she has never asked a single question about it. Lisa's always appreciated that about Eula.

Eula, whose voice she can't hear anymore.

Has she finally died?

Lisa.

Aha, that's a familiar voice.

She opens her eyes to find that, yes, she is dead. How morbid— her soul is outside of her body, and thus she can see her deathly pale corpse resting on one of the cots in the church's infirmary. Her Vision is without its usual amethyst glow. Venti is by her side, though not looking at her physical body. He's looking right at her spirit.

"Well, this is a shame," Lisa sighs, crossing her arms. "Here to take me away with the winds before I can even see my friends, Barbatos? I'm hurt."

Venti shakes his head. "The least I can do is allow you to see them one last time, Lisa. Though it would be faster to take you to the archipelagos where they are now, I've sent Dvalin to gather them, per Eula's request." He smiles sympathetically, eyes full of mirth. "How do you feel?"

Lisa hums, tilting her head to the side. "Must I answer that, I wonder? Although I no longer feel the pain that I did while I was alive, which, I suppose, is a blessing. I expected death to give me much more time to do what I initially planned on doing before I ran out of time, but alas," she sighs, though it's not as if she's actually breathing. How strange. "How long until Jean arrives?"

"It shouldn't be long, now. Dvalin is a fast flier, after all," Venti chuckles, though that sad look never leaves his emerald eyes. "I see that your carefree nature has followed you even in death. If you'd received a Vision from me, you would fit in perfectly."

"Your Vision wouldn't match my outfit," Lisa retorts with a shrug. "I'm the Witch of Purple Rose, not Green. Though, thank you for the offer. Perhaps in my next life, I'll be granted an Anemo Vision."

Venti laughs loudly at that. "Perhaps you will," he agrees lightheartedly. He opens his mouth to add something else, but pauses when they both hear loud footsteps heading toward them. Just as quickly as the mourning left Venti's eyes, it returns. "The winds bring your companions to us quickly, it seems."

Jean bursts into the room, greedily gulping in whatever air she can into her lungs. Barbara, Lumine, and everyone else who had gone to the Golden Apple Archipelago are here.

"Barbatos—"

"Jean. Everyone," Venti solemnly greets the group with a nod. "Lisa asked me to hold her spirit here for a little while longer, at least until she could see the rest of you one last time." He turns toward Lisa's ghost, who stands there with crossed arms. The Anemo Archon summons his lyre, plucking at its strings to play a mellow tune.

A breeze flows through the room, and everyone's gaze moves to where Lisa is standing, next to her physical body. She watches them all intently— Diluc tries to keep his expression unreadable, but his knitted eyebrows, his tightly pressed together lips. Barbara is holding back her tears, to no avail. They all look so... sad.

"Now! Why are we all so mopey?" Lisa chides, shaking her head. She steps forward, placing her hands on her hips. "I certainly wouldn't want to remember my last moments with you lot having such sad faces, now, would I? So smile! It's the least you can do for me, isn't it?"

Klee whimpers next to Albedo, and Lisa's facade cracks. She kneels to Klee's height, smiling at the young girl. "Come now, Klee. You're a strong girl, aren't you? I know it might be hard right now, but you'll be alright."

"But... but I won't get anymore treats from Miss Lisa, will I?" Klee whines, shaking her head. "I don't want that! I want Miss Lisa to keep giving me treats! It's not fair!"

At Klee's tantrum, Barbara finally breaks with a loud sob. Lumine pulls her in for a hug, though Lisa sees the small tear that rolls down the traveler's cheek.

"Oh, Klee. I wish I could've taught you how to make those delicious treats I make you, but I have to leave soon." Pretending to lose herself in her thoughts for a moment, Lisa hums, tilting her head. Then she makes a small "Aha!" before smiling widely. "How about this: Let's make a pinky promise! I'll come back to Mondstadt and teach you how to make those treats, and you have to promise to smile for me."

Klee's face scrunches in confusion, but she extends her pinky to Lisa. "You have to come back! If you don't come back, then I'll be very angry!"

With a chuckle, Lisa wraps her pinky around Klee's. "I will come back, Klee. Then we can make all those delicious treats and eat them together."

The young girl's lips quirk, before she breaks out into a wavering smile. "Mhm! It's a promise!"

Good. Thank goodness. Lisa pushes herself up, only to be met with the one gaze that hurts the most to meet.

"Jean."

The Acting Grand Master squeezes her eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath. It pains Lisa so to see her like this— barely able to keep herself together.

That won't do. That won't do at all.

"Jean," Lisa tries again, hating how weak her voice sounds. "Look at me, please?"

Jean's bottom lip quivers, but she opens her eyes. "Lisa."

Kaeya takes the hint that the two of them needed some privacy, and quietly ushers the rest of the group out of the room. Lisa takes one last look at her friends— her family— before they're gone from her sight. Venti is the only one who stays.

"My sweet, sweet Dandelion Knight," Lisa sighs, stepping forward to cup Jean's face in her hands. "I'm going to come back to you, so don't mourn me, alright? I'll come back, no matter how long it takes."

Jean breathes out a puff of laughter, eyes downcast. "Please don't give me that kind of hope, Lisa—"

"You don't believe me?" Lisa interrupts with a pout. "I'm hurt. I may not be as powerful as Alice, but I can assure you that I have my ways. So, even when you do feel my absence, know that I will never leave your side. Call to me in the winds that flow through Mondstadt, and I will come to listen." Her voice cracks, and she knows that Jean is hiding all of her devastation, bottling it up until Lisa isn't there to see her break.

"Lisa, I—"

"I love you, Jean." Her voice trembles. It's embarrassing, how fragile Lisa sounds in that moment. "Every afternoon we've spent together, every time we've been in each other's company, every time I've made you tea and stolen you away from your work so you would give yourself some time to breathe," Lisa spills her words, desperate to get everything out before it's too late, "I've loved every single moment I've spent with you. Don't forget to give yourself time to relax, Jean; you need it more than anyone in the Knights."

"Lisa, it's almost time," Venti says softly. "I'll take you one last place before I send you off. Where would you like to go?"

"Starsnatch Cliff," Lisa says without hesitating. "Jean. Don't forget this little old librarian, alright? Or I'll—"

"How could I ever forget you, Lisa?" Jean sobs, tears finally spilling over. She manages to smile, though— a shaky, miserable smile through her grief. "How- how could I forget about the woman I fell in love with, knowing that her life was moving much faster than mine? If I could just find a way to return those years you lost," she rambles, wiping at her tears. "If I could just... save you—"

"Jean," Lisa chokes out, vision blurry. Can ghosts cry, she wonders? She certainly feels like she could cry, right about now. "My lovely Jean, it's alright. It was only a matter of time, so please don't... don't..."

Don't cry.

"Lisa."

Venti steps forward, placing a hand on Jean's shoulder. "We must be going, now. I won't be able to keep her spirit for much longer."

Jean nods, a sniffling mess. "Take... take care of her. Please."

"Of course," Venti responds, before gesturing for Lisa to step closer to him. "Are you ready?"

"That's a silly question," Lisa chuckles, taking Venti's extended hand. A green glow begins to envelop the two of them, and Lisa can't help but keep her gaze trained on Jean, who's watching them go. Jean meets her eyes, and she mouths three words to Lisa. One last time.

"Take care, Jean. I love you dearly."

And finally, the sands of Lisa's hourglass come to rest.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfic #lisa minci #jean gunnhildr #genshin lisa #genshin jean #jean x lisa #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #genshin impact kaeya #genshin kaeya #genshin klee #genshin impact klee #genshin barbara #genshin lumine #genshin impact lumine

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laurawritesandgames · 4 years

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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swan--writes · 5 years

Note

Beetlejuice x pregnant reader

(I was listening to Sara Bareilles’s version of Everything Changes when I wrote this)

Thank you for giving me an excuse to write a scene I’ve been wanting to try my hand at. This one got away from me a little, but (I think) in a good way!

Words: ~2,170

Your chest was resting against the lip of the toilet bowl. The hard press of the floor against your knees kept you centered, though your back was beginning to ache. You weren’t sure how long you had been kneeling on the bathroom floor, but it felt as though it had been ages.

When you felt hands pulling your hair away from your forehead, you were relieved at the cold touch. For a moment, you fought the urge to lean into it, but then you remembered who those hands belonged to. He wouldn’t mind your vomit breath. Within moments, you were leaning back on your heels with a cool hand on your forehead and a chilled arm across your chest.

“You need to get checked out.” Wordlessly, you shook your head and leaned back into Beetlejuice’s chest. You loved the way he felt, though you knew he’d be self-conscious if you told him that. The give of his body when you relaxed into him was more comforting than all the furniture in the apartment you both lived in. Even when he was frustrated with you, like now. “Baby, you’ve been sick for two weeks. It’s not normal, you need to see a doctor.” Wow, not even a crude pun. He must really be worried. You craned your neck to look up at him. His bushy eyebrows were pushed into a tense frown.

You swallowed, grimaced, and broke free of his hold on you to stand. You flushed the toilet on your way to the sink. “I’m not sick,” you said softly. Knowing what was coming, you didn’t look at him.

Every morning for the last two weeks you had been driven to the bathroom with nausea and, truthfully, you knew why. A quick trip to the drug store while your demon boyfriend was off on a bio-exorcism job had been all it took to figure out what was going on. And every day for two weeks you had tried to find a way to tell Beetlejuice. It was growing more and more difficult for you to convince him to drop the subject, which is why you had tried to be quiet this morning. But the tone in his voice when he replied to your attempted deflection made it clear that it was not going to be easy this time.

“Y/N,” uh-oh, “you’re not letting yourself get sick for me, right?” As you readied your toothbrush, you heard him stand and shuffle closer to you. “Because you know how much that’d hurt me, right?”

“This has nothing to do with death, Beej.”

“Good, then you’re going.” Your fingers were beginning to tremble.

“Beej–”

“No! Something’s wrong, and if anything happens to you–”

You threw the toothbrush down into the sink. “Damnit Beetlejuice, I’m pregnant!”

Silence.

Beetlejuice stilled, staring at you with an unreadable expression, but something like fear was creeping into his eyes. “What?”

“I…I’m pregnant.” Your stomach dropped and a cold sweat that had nothing to do with nausea washed over you as you watched his hair fade to black. A purple sheen blinked at you when he looked away.

“That’s impossible,” Beetlejuice muttered.

“…apparently it’s not.” You took half a step towards him with your hand outstretched.

The demon still wouldn’t look at you, but he pulled back. You froze. “I’m dead, Y/N, I can’t–”

“Beej…”

“How could you–no. Of course you’d cheat on me.”

“I didn’t,” you breathed. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Beej, I wouldn’t do that to me. Look at me.”

Ignoring his silent protests, you stepped right up to him. With one hand you lifted his chin so he had no choice but to look at you, and you rested your other hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know if it’s because you’re a demon and now I’m carrying the antichrist, or if we messed with some magic somehow, or what, but–hey.” A single tear freed itself from Beetlejuice’s eye. You gently wiped it away. “We’re pregnant, Beetlejuice. He’s yours.”

“He?”

You gave him a small smile. “You’ve seen my family tree, love, it’s gonna be a boy.” Slowly, you watched some green and a hint of pink work its way into his hair.

“There’s gonna be a baby.” Feeling prickling in your throat, you nodded. “I’m gonna be a daddy!” With that, he grabbed you, yanked you close, and pressed his lips to yours. Before you could remind him that you still hadn’t brushed your teeth, Beetlejuice was dipping you and kissing you like you were his new passion project.

Then you remembered who was kissing you. He wouldn’t mind your vomit mouth.

Beetlejuice did not leave your side for the next eight and-a-half months. Invisible, he accompanied you to every appointment. He poked fun at you when you went grocery shopping late at night because you really needed jalapeño chips and chocolate milk. The Deetzes spend plenty of time at your apartment, helping you prepare the space and, in Charles’s case, giving you investment advice so you’d be able to buy a house by the time the baby was old enough to stop co-sleeping. (Beetlejuice would not hear of a crib; his child would co-sleep, demonic tendencies be literally damned.) Even when you begged Beetlejuice for just an hour alone, he would only sulk off to your tiny office to work on arranging it into a nursery.

Before the baby, you and Beetlejuice hadn’t fought much. It was rare for either of you to raise your voice. Most of your arguments consisted of you telling Beetlejuice he had done something wrong, him taking your word for it and giving you a half-assed apology, and conveniently forgetting to promise to never do whatever he had done again. Now, he was practically a golden retriever. Gone were the long nights of him growling through bared teeth, beating him over the head with your point, rough make-up sex. You knew you could be prideful at times, but even you had to admit that the demon had hardly done anything…demonic since you told him you were pregnant.

Then came the delivery plan.

“We’re having a hospital birth, Y/N.”

“Beetlejuice, no. If we have a hospital birth, you won’t be there!” you called after him as he walked away from you, into the living room of your apartment.

“Sure I’ll be.”

“You know what I mean. No-one will be able to see you, you won’t even be able to hold him.”

Beetlejuice stopped and swallowed, but recovered quickly. “At least you’ll be safe if something goes wrong.”

You scoffed. “I think you’re stuck in the wrong century. If we’re trained, and we have friends who are trained–”

“Friends like who? Two ghosts and a new age hippie?”

“Like two almost-parents and a detail-oriented fountain of internet info?”

“What if he’s got horns? What if he hurts you?”

“You think a doctor’s gonna be prepared for a demon-child?” By now, Beetlejuice’s hair was as red as your face. “No! They’re gonna take one look at him and we’ll never see him again!”

“You’re safer in a hospital!” There was a note of finality in Beetlejuice’s voice when he spoke.

You weren’t having it. “He’s safer here!”

“Y/N–”

“Would you hurt me?”

Beetlejuice blanched. “Wh–what?”

“Would you?” you demanded. He shook his head slowly. “Would you let me get hurt?” More sure now, he shook his head again. “Then stop fighting me on this.” You walked right up to Beetlejuice and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. Your thirty-seven-week belly bumped up against him. “Beetlejuice, it’s my body. We are having a home birth. If anything goes wrong, Delia and Charles will be on standby to take me to the hospital.” Beetlejuice sighed as he gave in. Looking back on it, you could have played the My Body, My Choice card much earlier on, when the argument was still a conversation. As long as he listened, you supposed, that was all that mattered.

Beetlejuice took your hands from his jacket. He dropped to his knees and took gentle hold of your stomach, kissing your baby bump. Almost immediately, the demon reeled back, rubbing his mouth. He looked up at you with mirth in his eyes and a pout on his lips.

“He kicked me in the mouth!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “He must agree with me.” Beetlejuice gave you a playful scowl, and turned on his ass when you heard a cough from the corner.

“Sorry, we let ourselves in,” came Barbara’s sweet voice.

“Oh!” You felt an uncomfortable heat rise to your face. “How much did you hear?”

“No worries, Y/N,” Adam reassured you. “Sometimes Barbara and I work ourselves into quite the twist. We understand.”

Your demon boyfriend gave a cheeky smirk and laughed lightly. “A twist,” he echoed. Before you could stop him, Beetlejuice was floating over to the couple before raising himself to his feet just in front of Adam. “That is just so cute.” Adam, having learned by now, was barely able to duck out of Beetlejuice’s grasp.

“Beej,” you warned playfully. You looked back at Barbara while Beetlejuice reluctantly returned to your side. “I thought Miss Argentina said you weren’t coming until next week?”

“Well, we wanted to surprise you with something. Charles returned it to us few months ago, and Adam’s been restoring it.”

“Sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t wait any longer,” Adam explained, heading for the front door through the kitchen.

You laughed through your confusion. “Okay…?” Adam disappeared through the kitchen for a moment. When he returned to the living room, he was carrying a handsome black crib. He set it down in front of you. “Oh,” you gasped.

The crib was dark and polished, with a black and white striped fitted sheet and a matching stuffed animal that looked an awful lot like the sandworms Beetlejuice had told you about. You drifted forward to feel the sidebars. They were smooth and soft and warm, as though the fact that they had been restored by a ghost could do nothing to dull his intentions.

“Originally, it was a really beautiful maple–”

“But, we thought black might be more appropriate,” Barbara interrupted her husband. “I made the little sandworm stuffy and Delia found the sheet.”

When you looked up, the Maitlands were watching you, waiting for your reaction. Your throat was choking up rapidly, but you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around each of them. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your voice was muffled against Barbara’s shoulder, but you were sure they heard you. They both wrapped their cold arms around you carefully.

“Get in here,” Barbara said. For a moment you were confused, but then Beetlejuice walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around all of you. He muttered something about co-sleeping, but you didn’t catch what it was.

The next few hours were a blur that began with a rush of fluid down your legs and ended with abnormally loud cries.

Later, you would be shocked that the Deetzes didn’t receive a speeding ticket. The Maitlands let them into your apartment while you nearly broke Beetlejuice’s fingers. He didn’t know what to say, but he was there for you. Lydia and Delia made you a nest, Beetlejuice and Barbara held your hands, Charles and Adam…well, you lost track of them, but they were there. That was all that mattered.

As it turns out, half-demon labor is remarkably fast. You tried to breathe. You tried not to scream. You focused on Beetlejuice’s voice as he tried to coach you through it. Less than three hours later, Delia was wiping your face and telling you what a good job you had done.

“Where is he?” you breathed once you could finally speak. Beetlejuice was leaning his face against the side of your head, not leaving it when you looked up. Barbara was coming towards you, and you’d swear there was a glow around her as she beamed down at you.

“Congratulations,” she said, handing you a bundle of blankets and crimson hair and screaming. “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” you and Beetlejuice asked in unison. Barbara chuckled and helped you take hold of your daughter. The tears were sliding down your face before you realized you were crying.

“She looks like me,” Beetlejuice said. Immediately, your baby’s gaze traveled up to him, her cries quieting. You breathed a laugh, not taking your eyes off of her. He was right. Her hair was rapidly changing color, her eyes were already golden. But she had your blush, your life. Half-demon, but oh, so human.

“Well, thank God for you.” You paused for a moment. “We should figure out her name.” In seconds, you were surrounded by laughter– even from the men. You were so warm, even in Beetlejuice’s arms. Every single person you both loved was in your home. You shook your head in wonder, staring down at your baby girl. “She’s amazing.”

Buy Me a Coffee?

#the maitlands #lydia deetz #charles deetz #delia deetz #barbara maitland #adam maitland #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice bway #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice #soft beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #fanfiction #beetlejuice x self insert #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x female reader #request

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pezberryandotherlesbians · 4 years

Text

Things Change - Part Two

you can find Part 1 here

Sometimes Santana can’t tell what’s the truth and what she’s saying in aim of some sort of result. Most of the time, she forgets what she’s aiming for, too.

When Brody arrives Santana is the first to greet him. ‘Good evening, muscles. May I take your coat?’ She leans in to whisper her next words, still loud enough for Rachel and Kurt to hear. ‘Unless you got a little somethin’ somethin’ in there you don’t want Rachel to see.’ ‘Santana!’ Rachel snaps. ‘She’s kidding, babe. Hi.’ She grips Brody’s arm and kisses him passionately. Santana grimaces and gestures sticking a finger down her throat. ‘Okay, gross. Even if he’s not a drug dealer the way he moves his lips like that is definitely a deal breaker.’ Kurt snickers before whispering a chastising, ‘Santana.’ ‘What? It looks like he’s trying to siphon something out of her throat.’ Santana adjusts her tight fitting black top. It’s mesh across her shoulders and the top of her chest, her long legs hugged by matching black material, minus the transparency. Her heels click across the floorboards as she flips the Fleetwood Mac record Rachel selected especially for Brody’s arrival. ‘Wow, guys. Do you remember when Mr Schue made us sing practically every song off this record for a week?’ She twists the cover in her hands then looks directly at Rachel. ‘I sang Songbird to Brittany. I wanted her to know, you know? Without having to say it.’ Rachel’s mouth falls open a little bit and her eyes flood with sympathy and something akin to relief. ‘That’s beautiful, Santana.’

‘Who’s Brittany?’ Brody asks, removing his own coat while taking no notice of the way the air has shifted, Rachel smiles gratefully at a nonchalant Santana.

‘Santana’s ex-girlfriend.’ Rachel answers.

‘Oh, bummer.’ Brody looks at Santana. ‘When did you break up?’

‘Brody, I don’t think Santana really wants to talk about that tonight,’ Rachel says quickly and quietly.

‘It’s fine, Rachel. Ken doll over here is practically our fourth roommate. I broke up with Brittany 6 months ago.’ Saying it out loud makes her stomach turn but she acts unfazed. If she’s going to get closer to Rachel, she's going to have to talk about this shit. She’s not even sure if she’s going to follow through will this whole

use Rachel as a distraction until the pain goes away plan

. But in any case, it’s fun to mess with her. And Santana needs a little fun.

‘Are you still in love with her?’ Brody takes a seat at the table and stares up at Santana with his dumb boy face. Rachel gasps and gently hits his arm. ‘Ow, sorry.’

‘Rachel.’ Kurt says warningly, fearful of Santana’s impending reaction. Little does he know, Santana is nowhere close to going all Lima Heights - again. And even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t. That’s not the way to get Rachel to trust her, and her trust is imperative.

Santana serves up the giant salad Kurt made earlier. It has some weird looking vegetables in it but she’s too hungry to question anything. She tried to make a snack earlier but Rachel just kept smacking her hands away, telling her not to fill up on junk. ‘In answer to your question, wax-man, no. I’m not still in love with Brittany.’

‘Wait, really?’ Rachel asks, unable to help herself. Kurt rolls his eyes.

‘Guys, seriously? Is there nothing else we can think to discuss besides Santana’s past lovers?’

‘Stick a sock in it, Porcelain. If Lars and the Real Girl want to know then fine, let’s talk about Brittany. And about how I am no longer in love with her.’

Rachel has that look she wears whenever she feels embarrassed. ‘I just assumed…’

‘Well, you assumed wrong, Berry. Anything else you or your boy toy would like to know before I dig into this terrifying salad?’

‘Hey, I made that!’ Kurt protests.

‘But you’ve seemed so sad. So-so

wounded

. You just go to work and come home and sit there and sometimes you hardly say anything and when you do it’s just this - this

venom

that I chalked up to being a result of your pain. But you don’t love her.’

Oh, crap

. Santana didn’t account for this. ‘Of course I still love her, Barbara. I’m just not in love with her like I used to be.’

‘I get that.’ Brody chimes in. ‘Here’s to moving on.’ He raises a glass and Rachel reluctantly pulls her gaze from Santana. ‘Happy Valentine’s day.’

‘Pass me the salad you pale, pale man.’ Santana snatches the bowl from Kurt’s hands. She pushes her fork into her mouth to keep herself from speaking. She needs to think about what she wants. And how to get it.

Later, when Adam comes over, Santana realises how desperately alone she really is. She cringes almost every time anyone says anything. It’s painful, really, especially when Kurt suggests they watch Mama Mia again. ‘Okay, no. Kurt? We just watched that. Remember?’ Santana takes another sip of her wine while she waits for him to respond. ‘Yes, but not with Brody and Adam!’ He says this like it really makes a difference. ‘Terrific,’ Santana drawls sarcastically. ‘Come on, Santana. I know you have a crush on Amanda Seyfried.’ Rachel says, a little flirtatiously, Santana thinks. Or maybe she’s just drunk. She did text Quinn earlier asking if she wanted to make their wedding hook up a three time thing, so she’s clearly not thinking straight. ‘As long as Kurt doesn’t cry again when Meryl sings The Winner Takes It All because he’s thinking about Blaine.’ Adam grows visibly uncomfortable and Santana smiles. ‘I was crying because I was thinking about Meryl’s rise to the top, thank you very much.’ Santana considers leaving the loft to hang out with the homeless cluster across the street as soon as Rachel and Brody start duetting during every song. ‘Please, for the love of god, shut up.’ Rachel pouts. She’s definitely drunk now, which makes Santana feel better about the way the room spins when she stands up. ‘Don’t go, Santana.’ ‘Turn off the movie and I won’t.’ She spills her wine across the bottom of her top because she forgets she’s holding it. ‘Goddammit.’ She walks clumsily to the bathroom, aware of Rachel trailing behind her. ‘Here, let me.’ Rachel grabs a towel and starts dabbing at Santana’s abdomen. ‘Are you okay?’ Santana frowns. ‘Besides the fact that you and Taylor Lautner have permanently damaged my hearing and sense of joy? Of course I am.’ Rachel gazes up at her. ‘We can talk about Brittany, if you want to. I don’t think I’ve been a very good friend to you.’ She looks upset, like maybe she might cry. Santana really doesn’t want to deal with this, but Rachel keeps dabbing at her hip even though there’s no stain there, so she’s not about to interrupt. ‘You’ve been fine, Berry. You’re right. I’ve been sulking.’ Sometimes Santana can’t tell what’s the truth and what she’s saying in aim of some sort of result. Most of the time, she forgets what she’s aiming for, too. ‘Is it true?’ Rachel asks, lifting Santana’s top to check if the wine went through to her skin. Santana shivers. ‘Is what true?’ ‘Have you fallen out of love with her?’ Rachel wipes her bare skin, then pauses. Santana considers it all. The truth, the lie she wants to tell. She answers when she realises those are the same thing. ‘I don’t love her like I used to. So, yeah. It’s true.’ Rachel throws the towel into the wash basket and lets Santana’s top fall back over her skin. ‘Do you still miss her?’ Santana leans back against the basin to steady herself. She’s dangerously close to seeing two Rachel’s. ‘I miss her. And I miss having someone. I miss sex, the intimacy.’ She doesn’t know why she’s still talking, but Rachel’s eyes are dark and her mouth is slightly parted. She’s looking at Santana like she wants to hear this, all of it. Like it’s doing something to her. Santana just can’t figure out what. ‘Do you miss Finn?’ Santana asks, hoping to deflect the line of questioning so she can catch her breath. Rachel looks at the floor. ‘Yes.’ ‘Do you love him?’ Santana grips the sink. She’s starting to sweat. ‘I think I always will.’ Santana knows that that is the answer she wanted to give Rachel. She loves Brittany, always will. And it’s not that she loves her less right now, she just knows they can’t be their best until they live. Until they have loved other people, even though she hates that guppy face puppy dog she’s chosen to shack up with. ‘Are you okay?’ Rachel is closer now. ‘You look kind of pale.’ ‘I’m fine.’ Santana wants to go to bed, but unfortunately there’s an assortment of men currently draped across her couch. ‘I think I just need to get some sleep.’ Rachel looks worried for a moment and then says, ‘take my bed. Brody and I can share the couch.’  Santana chuckles. ‘What, are you planning to sleep inside of each other? Actually, gross, don’t answer that.’ Rachel smiles, a little charmed by Santana’s consistency. ‘Go, get some sleep. I’ll try to keep the boys quiet.’ Santana looks at Rachel, like really looks at her. ‘Thank you, Rachel.’ She thinks about apologising for earlier, for basically assaulting Rachel against a fridge. Ascribing that word to it makes her feel nauseous, so she doesn’t say anything, just walks past Rachel and kicks off her heels before throwing herself onto Berry scented sheets. Her clothes quickly become uncomfortable so she sheds them until she’s in her lacy black underwear. It’s stupid, she thinks, that nobody is going to see how insanely hot she looks in these. She must fall asleep quickly because she doesn’t rouse at all until a tiny gremlin starts shaking her. ‘Santana, wake up. It’s Rachel.’ ‘Who else would it be, Hobbit?’ She slurs. She practically feels Rachel roll her eyes. ‘Move over. I need to sleep in here. Brody is having some kind of…well, he’s moaning and aroused and I can’t sleep next to him if he’s going to…just move over.’ Santana manages to cackle despite the heaviness that is pushing down on her. ‘Your boyfriend is having a sex dream next to you so you had to run away? What, scared he’s gonna spray you?’ ‘Don’t be so crass, Santana. I’m just not prepared to service him at this hour.’ ‘Jesus. Where did you learn to speak?’ ‘Are you naked?’ Rachel darts a hand out to touch Santana’s stomach. ‘I can’t feel any clothing.’ Santana thinks about smacking her hand away until she tunes into how nice the contact feels. Like earlier, but better. A ripple of arousal settles between her legs. ‘I’m not naked, but feel free to keep checking.’ Rachel huffs and climbs in next to her. ‘Are you naked, Rachel?’ This is all a lot more fun now Rachel is here, especially since Quinn replied saying she’s dating a new professor now so there’s no chance of a repeat. ‘I can’t sense any clothing.’ ‘Very funny, Santana.’ Rachel lays on her side, facing Santana. ‘I hope you’re feeling better than earlier.’ Santana cringes despite the darkness. ‘I’m fine.’ ‘Have you thought about dating?’ Rachel asks. She’s perky, a little too alert after her walk through the loft. She also desperately wants to continue their conversation from earlier, and it’s not every night she has Santana in her bed. ‘Why are you still talking?’ Santana rolls over, away from Rachel. The diva blinks at the ceiling and considers her options. After weighing up the potential fall out, she decides to continue pressing. ‘You said you miss intimacy,’ she whispers. ‘I said a lot of things. I was drunk.’ Santana is awake now. Despite herself, her wave of sleep has passed over her, leaving her to wade in the water with Rachel. ‘I know you meant it.’ Rachel says. ‘And I understand.’ ‘How could you possibly understand? You have a mannequin out there that is literally hard for you.’ Even saying the words makes Santana’s throat close up. The thought of Brody being any harder than he already is is too much for her to take. ‘That’s not intimacy.’ Rachel says, refusing to take the bait. She doesn’t want to detour them with a fight, not while they’re maybe, possibly getting somewhere. ‘What is it then?’ Santana rolls onto her back so she’s better able to hear Rachel’s response.

‘It’s sex. It’s physical. It has nothing to do with me. Well, not all the time. I don’t - I don’t love him. We don’t make love.’ Rachel admits, her voice quieter than Santana has ever heard it. She doesn’t know what to say, although she thinks back to all times she didn’t make love in high school. Before Brittany, maybe even after. God knows she’s not in love with Quinn. Something comes over Santana then. Something uncontrollable. It’s the same sensation she felt earlier when she pushed Rachel. She can’t take another second of this ache, the numbness beneath the pain. She needs to feel something else. In one movement she rolls over and finds Rachel’s face in the dark. When she kisses her she can feel that Rachel is trying to speak, but she stops after a second. She didn’t expect her to kiss her back, but when she does it wakes her up. She hears her own heavy breathing, Rachel’s whimper of surprise, the way small hands grip her arm, her waist. She pulls back like she’s tasted fire.

‘Fuck.’ She sits up, away from Rachel. This was not a part of the plan. The stupid plan that is nothing more than a game inside her own head, one she never should have given attention.

‘Santana, what…what was that?’ Rachel sounds more than just confused. She’s utterly dumbfounded. She touches her lips with her fingers, feels the moisture Santana’s left on her own. Her boyfriend is sleeping just a few steps away.

‘Shit, I was dreaming. I thought…I don’t know.’ It’s a flimsy excuse, a pathetic one that is practically nonsensical but Santana doesn’t know what else to say.

‘Did you mean to kiss me?’ Rachel sits up. ‘Or were you thinking of someone else?’ She sounds wounded already. Santana rolls her eyes.

‘Does that matter? Washboard is sleeping on my couch, remember?’ She feels like maybe they can just breeze past this. Chalk up to the darkness, the wine, the emotional conversation.

‘It matters.’ Rachel says softly.

Santana can’t make sense of this right now. Her head is pounding and she just

kissed

Rachel. ‘Why?’

‘Were you thinking about Brittany?’

‘Jesus, give it up already.’ Santana gets out of bed and searches for her clothes. ‘I’m just tired. I didn’t mean for this, okay?’

‘Quinn?’ Rachel sounds devastated. Santana squints at her through the darkness, trying to see something on her face that tells her what the fuck is going on.

‘God, no. Not Quinn. Not Brittany. Not anybody, okay?’ She slides into her pants. ‘I’ll sleep in the bathroom.’

‘Don’t go, Santana. It’s fine. We can forget about it.’ Rachel pleads.

‘You wanna forget about it?’ Santana doesn’t know why she asks. Maybe she just wants to feel like she’s back in control of this situation, and this is the only way she knows how. ‘You wanna forget about how that was the best kiss you’ve ever had? That Brody or Finn’s man lips don’t compare to my juicy, delectable mouth? Just wait until you feel my tongue, Rachel. You won’t even remember Barbara’s last name.’

She can see through the moonlight that Rachel’s jaw drops a little. She smirks, only faltering when she hears Rachel’s next words.

‘I’m going back to sleep with Brody. The bed is yours if you want it.’ She watches Rachel walk away, hears Brody’s deep voice welcome her back. When she crawls back into Rachel’s sheets, she wishes she could redo the last 20 minutes so much that it gives her a headache on top of her headache.

#pezberry #pezberry fanfcition #rachel x santana #santana x rachel #rachel berry #santana lopez #glee #glee lesbians #glee fanfiction #glee fandom

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 11)

The landscape that passes outside the window of the car shifts in a cavalcade of summer colors; hundreds of shades of green leaves in contrast to the flashing flower beds. Roses, gardenias and bright, yellow marigolds. The vegetation, although it’s a residential area, is exuberant and lush, but meticulously planned. The trees are tall, the bushes are dense and perfectly cut. Mila’s eyes wander over the houses, cars and the flags of red, white and blue. It's a quiet suburb just like the ones at home, but yet so different.

At home, back in Russia, everything is somewhat grey, a concrete block-landscape. In Russia she lives, or lived, in a suburb of Moscow, on the 12th floor of a brick high-rise. If Mila looked out of the kitchen window, filled with houseplants, she could see a square patch of grass, crossed by a diagonal path, with other identical high rises on the left and on the right. Everybody drove Russian cars, nothing like the cars that pass them now. Is she really going to live here, in one of these houses? She doesn't want to. She wants to go home. To the dull complex with flaking blue paint, her small bedroom, home to mama. This is a nightmare, and no matter how much she wants it, she can’t wake up from it.

”Are we there yet?” she says out loud.

”What?” the man in the driver’s seat looks at her in the rearview mirror.

”Home?” Mila tries as fast she can to find suiting words in english instead. ”This? Home?”

The man with the kind eyes says something to her, but Mila doesn’t understand. He smiles at her. If it’s out of pity over her limited vocabulary or if he’s genuinely nice, Mila can’t figure out. She feels vulnerable and fragile. To prevent herself from bursting into tears she looks out the window again. Is she really going to stay in one of these houses? No, this is where the wealthy people live. They are just taking a ride through the neighborhood. At home, in Russia, only the rich can afford to live like this and have two cars on the driveway. The car she rides in is a newly polished Cadillac. It smells brand new and the backseat feels like sitting on a leather couch. Mila caresses the tanned leather. In the rearview mirror she feels the man’s eyes observing her. This is the second time they met, ever. The first time was at the police station two days ago, in the company of two police officers, an interpreter and the social service representative. His name is Joseph Galka. Mila has met his wife too, Ellie. A pretty woman with dimples and honey blonde hair. When they entered the small room at the police station Mila thought they looked nice, very American. They spoke to her through the interpreter, asked her things and seemed very kind. Then they told her that she was going to stay with them for a while at their house, and asked her if that would be okay. Mila hesitated at first. She didn’t want to go with them, or anyone for that matter. They were complete strangers to her. But she knew that it was unreasonable for her to remain at the police station. And she couldn’t go back home even if she wanted to.

Joseph Galka breaks smoothly, the car slows down and he turns left into a concrete driveway. Mila’s eyes widen at the sight of the house. A two story craftsman home with sloping ceiling, a mix of stone, bricks and wood as well as a wooden porch. Joseph Galka turns the key and the car dies, as well as the radio. He steps out of the car, hurries around to the other side and opens the door for her.

”Welcome home.”

”I remember it like it was yesterday. You looked like a frightened nestling.” Ellie smiles at Mila and caresses her cheek with her soft hand. ”No wonder. You had a couple of hard days, hun.”

Mila squeezes Ellie’s hand, meets the kind woman's gaze. It's been a year since Mila stepped inside the front door of The Galka's home for the first time. Earlier in the day, Mila was surprised when she came home from school with a small ’one-year in America’ party for the five of them. Just as that first day, she was met by a small welcome committee consisting of Ellie and the boys, Billy and Adam, and a home made sign that Billy happened to hold upside down. On that first sign, ’welcome’ was written in both English and Russian. This time the sign said ’1 year ago’ and was turned upright.

“You looked like you saw a ghost.” Billy opens his eyes wide and presses his lips tightly together. “Like that. You looked terrified.”

Yeah. Mila clearly remembers how overwhelmed and scared she was that day. It felt as if she was an alien. As if the four complete strangers weren't enough, an old woman and an old man appeared in the hallway out of nowhere, talking gibberish to her and opening their arms, as if they wanted to hug her. It was Ellie’s parents, Ray and Barbara, byt Mila didn’t know that. Precariously, she withdrew, pressing herself against the inside of the front door. Her frightened face, the one Billy imitated, forced the Galka’s to tone down the party a bit.

Ellie offered to take her jacket and then led her into the dining room, where she had prepared a picture perfect key lime pie, chocolate chip cookies and tea. A dog-eared Russian-English dictionary laid on the table between the cake dish and the pie. The interpreter who was supposed to come with Mila, on her first day at the Galka’s, became acutely ill and the social services didn’t succeed in getting a replacement. Mila was on her own.

Her very limited english skills were tested immediately. She hadn't read much english in school in Russia, barely any, but she had seen Titanic a couple of times with her friends at the cinema. In an attempt to break the tension, and to show that she knew at least one english phrase perfectly, Mila opened her mouth and said:

”You want to go to a real party?”

The Galka’s looked at each other, not sure what she said, and why. Ellie’s mother Barbara said something, to which Adam replied something with a small laugh. At that time Mila had no idea what was being said between them, but afterwards she figured out that Barbara wondered ‘what the hell she meant by that’, whereupon Adam asked the others if Mila just quoted Titanic?

”You remember that you quoted Titanic?” Adam chuckles on the opposite side of the table and takes a sip of his Pepsi Cola. ”I’ve never been that shocked in my entire life. It was hilarious!”

”I loved Titanic! It is a good movie.” Mila excuses herself. ”Very popular. All the girls in school loved Leo.”

”How does it sound in Russian?” Billy says. ”That party-line?”

Mila repeats the line in her native language. At the same time, Joe enters the dining room from the kitchen, carrying a key lime pie in his hands, which he puts down on the table. It’s her absolute favorite. The pie is decorated with sizzling sparklers and American and Russian flags. One year has passed since she tasted key lime pie for the first time. One year that she, during that first day at the airport, locked in the small square room, never thought she would survive. And here she is. She has survived. Every trial day. Every panic anxiety attack when she has faced reality, faced what her father did. She survived it all.

Later that night, when she lies in her bed, Mila dials the ten-digit number on her flip phone. She knows it's late, knows very well that international calls are expensive, but she has to. Signals are heard. She focuses her gaze on the ceiling above her, counting the luminous plastic stars. Five signals go through, then…

”Allo?”

”Mama.” Mila struggles to keep calm. ”Hi.”

“Moya malyshka!”

Mila hears how her mother gets up from bed at the other end; that fucking bed squeaked just being looked at. Her father was too greedy to buy them a new one and he was a notorious ‘twist and turner’. Mila closes her eyes, tries to picture the scene inside her head. The apartment with lace curtains, on the 12th floor, where mama lives on her own now, since a year. Over the raspy telephone signal, she hears her mother's faint, sniffing cry. Mila takes a deep breath, prevents herself from crying.

”Mom, don't cry.” she says as encouragingly as she can. ”Did I wake you?”

”Yes. But it’s alright, malyshka.” her mother sniffs. ”I dreamed you were home. In your bed. It was your birthday and I couldn't find the seventeenth candle for your cake.” she lets out a sniffling laughter.

Damn it. Mila starts to sob.

”I want to come home. I want to be with you, mama. I want to come home.”

Her mother says nothing. She’s also crying, a heartbreaking cry. And there’s nothing to be done about it. Nothing they can do. On each side of the globe they sit, alone, crying, missing each other.

Her mother in the apartment complex in Moscow. Mila in her bedroom in the house in Little Silver, New Jersey. As they have done for the past year. A whole year. The only thing Mila can think of, through the tears, is if there will be another year, and then another?

Will she ever go back home?

#daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl dixon #Jersey on my mind #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #The Walking Dead fanficition #The walking dead fanfic #fanfiction #twd fanfiction #fanfic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fandom

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foolurfriendsfunatparties · 5 years

Note

Could I request a Beetlejuice X reader with Beetlejuice actually proposing to the reader because he genuinely loves them and wants to be with them, not for green card purposes.

(I love this and I am very excited! Pls comment like and reblog!)

His hand were fidgeting nervously in his pockets as he waited for Lydia to return from her shopping mission. His hands soon went back to combing his messy green locks. He was startled when a hand met his shoulder. Turning around he saw the person he did not want to see at all.

"Hey Beej, what's up?" Y/N said with concern shown in her eyes. Beetlejuice had been acting different today. He wasn't making flirtatious remarks about her or Barbara. He wasn't even making a move on Adam like he always does. The two had been together for about 2 years after Lydia introduced the ghost with the most to you. What you didn't know was that Beetlejuice had asked Lydia to go buy a ring to propose to her with. If he had to spend an eternity with a breather, it would definitely beyY/N. He would give up the whole being dead thing just to be near her.

"Y/N!" He said realizing how she'd easily caught onto his nervousness. He smoothed his hair down in an attempt to keep it hidden. "I'm always good, how are you doing babes?" He lazily slung his arm around her waist, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck. His hairs pricking her skin in a tickling way. She just smiled glad he wasn't losing his mind.

"I'm doing fine. Just helping the Maitland's. They've been having me help then with the weirdest things today!" She looked to the door she just came through then looked back to the demon. "Adam wanted me to teach him about vine and modern culture." He shook his head back with laughter. He had given Adam and Barbara to keep her distracted while this whole ordeal was being taken care of. Obviously they both hadn't done their jobs well. On cue Adam came bursting through the door.

"Y/N!" It was clear he had been running looking for the girl for awhile. He leaned against the doorframe breathing heavily. "Barbara and I need you to show us what's being sold at Trader Joe's!" He grabbed her hand and drug her away leaving Beej to let out the heavy non-breath he had been holding. The door opened as Charles and Lydia came in.

"We got it." Lydia held up the black box that held the special ring Beetlejuice had chosen.

"Finally! Took you long enough!" He grabbed the ring opening it to showcase the delicate silver ring with a green emerald on the top. "It's perfect." He beamed brighter than ever before.

"You have a speech prepared right?" Charles said as the ghost went paler than an actual ghost has ever before.

"Prepared a what now?!" He was losing his mind. "A SPEECH?!"

"Well it's not a long speech trust me!" Charles held up his hands in defense. "Don't ask about mine with Delia it was a rough situation." Charles shuddered from the thought.

"I got it! I got it!" He shoved the two away as he sat down and thought about what to say to his precious breather. He finally decided he would just say what his hear felt in the moment.

The night was finally coming to an end as Y/N and Beetlejuice had found their way to the roof just watching the night sky and all the stars that came along with it. His hand slipped to the box in his pocket as he fell to one knee. Her hands covered her mouth. "Y/N L/N I fell in love with you at first sight. Cheesy, I know, but true. It may have been for your looks of a beauty untouched, but it’s so much more. You’re independent almost to a fault, you always have a snarky comeback, but most of the time you refrain.” He chuckles lowly and her face splits into a grin. “I love you for your unhealthy obsession with death, and all things gory." He points to himself as she joins along in his laughter. "I love you for your humor. I love you, for all of you. And that means so much more to me than your looks, albeit it’s a nice bonus.” She smacks him and he winks at her, causing blush to creep up her face. “Y/N will you marry me?” The box opens as the beautiful ring was showcased.

"Yes!" She squeals as he places the ring on her finger. His arms roughly grab her hips as a wicked grin appeared on his face. The old man back to his devilish ways immediately.

"It's showtime." He says breathily as his lips were roughly upon hers as she reciprocated immediately. His hands traveled down to her thighs as he lifted her. Her legs wrapping around his torso as he kept one hand on her hip the other on the back of her head playing with her hair. After parting he leaned his forehead against hers. She finally opened her eyes as a smile graced her face. "I love you."

#alex brightman #alex brightman x reader #beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x you #beetlejuice x self insert #beetlejuice bway #beetlejuice broadway #dewey finn x reader #dewey x reader #dewey finn #school of rock broadway #school of rock musical #school of rock

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totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes · 5 years

Text

I Feel Like I’m Drowning (Fanfic)

After much ado I have finally finished this story and it is...sad as heck. No lie I cried writing a few scenes of this and I’m a typically sad writer. This is a fanfic about the time between the events of the musical and the events of fannon where Lydia and BJ are chaotic siblings. How did he come back? How did they become friends again? How did Lydia cope with the trauma she endured during the events of the musical?

Is it angsty? Yes

Did I give it a happy-ish ending? I mean probably...

TW: Mentions of Suicide, Blood, Death, Panic Attack, Suicidal ideations, trauma.

__________________________________________________________

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since they had moved into the house, and while it had been a more than interesting experience, to say the least, it seemed like everyone was settling into the new environment. Adam and Barbara had been getting along well with Charles and Delia, though it had still only been a short amount of time Lydia was tempted to say that the four of them were friends, especially Barbara and her father who had a lot more in common than she had ever expected. The house started to feel more like a home as the days went by, but there was still something hanging over Lydia. Something keeping her awake at night and plaguing her dreams when she did manage to sleep.

She killed someone. She killed Beetlejuice. It was self-defense, of course. He was going to kill her father and probably her too but she had killed him. She stabbed him right through the chest and nobody has talked about it since. He was a demon she tried to remind herself, he wasn’t really alive in the first place but he was...she had brought him back to life and she had essentially killed a newborn. She can still hear the sound of the bone-crunching, it made her hands shake and her stomach tie up into knots. Lydia never knew she was capable of such a thing, even when she and BJ were scaring the people coming to their house it was just pranks, nobody died. She felt awful for that too, she still can’t make eye contact with the mailman or her neighbor. She wouldn’t even know how to begin how to apologize. “I’m so sorry I traumatized you because I was struggling to cope with my own mental health issues so I simply passed them onto another person.” That sounded ridiculous, everyone tells her that she’s just a kid and that she didn’t mean for what happened to have happened but it doesn’t change the fact that she did it. She was responsible for all of what happened, and nobody wanted to talk about it.

Her included. She had tried a couple of times to talk to her father or to Barbara about some of what went one, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually open up and tell them what it’s been doing to her. She would stay in her room, for the most part, it didn’t arouse suspicion, she often spent time in her room even before her mother died. She was an introverted person, she got more pleasure from being alone that she did in crowds. It overwhelmed her, but now the solitude was becoming suffocating, and she felt so so alone. She woke up one night from another one of her nightmares, her entire body trembling as she ran into the bathroom to scrub her hands clean of the non-existent blood, no matter how hard she scrubbed she just couldn’t feel clean. Her hands were red and raw from the soap and she slumped down on the tile floor, pulling her knees tight into herself just trying to make all the memories stop. They haunted her days and ruined her nights. She wanted to just be okay, she just wanted to be normal but she had screwed that all up.

“I’m a murderer,” she whispered to herself, saying the words out loud made it ten times worse and she felt panic rising into her chest. She wanted to shrink into herself and disappear but she couldn’t. She couldn’t run away from the consequences of her actions. She couldn’t even say she was fucking sorry because he was in the Netherworld now on a vision quest to go find his father. Summoning him would be selfish, he was probably happy now, finally glad to have some freedom...glad to be rid of her the pathetic sad kid that he was so easily able to trick and manipulate just because she missed her mommy. God her mother, she wondered what her mother would think about all that she has done now. She must be so ashamed of the monster that her daughter has become. She did all of this because she missed her but her mother would hate everything she had done, her mother would hate her.

Lydia shifted, tucking her knees tighter into her chest and fell onto the floor, hot tears running down her cheeks and landing on the floor as she cried. She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling the sobs and screams. She didn’t want to wake anybody because she knew they would just try to tell her it wasn’t her fault, they would tell her it was fine when it wasn’t. She didn’t deserve their pity, she didn’t deserve their comfort. She deserved exactly what she was getting, but she didn’t know it would hurt this bad. She wanted it to stop, she wanted so badly for the pain to stop. She slowly got up from the floor and pulled herself up on the counter, opening the medicine cabinet and holding a bottle of pills in her hands. It had been two weeks since she had been on the roof when Beetlejuice stopped her. There was nobody to stop her now, she could just open the bottle and swallow them all. She didn’t even know what the pills were but she imagined that a bottle full of anything would probably do the job. It would all be over, all the hurt would be over. Just like Juno said she could just fade into the soothing nothingness of the Netherworld.

She clutched the bottle so tight in her hands that her knuckles were starting to turn white, her face red and tear-streaked in the mirror. Taking in a shaky breath she tossed the bottle in the garbage, she couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to leave everyone, especially not her dad who had already lost so much and was coming so far trying to be a better father to her. She didn’t want to leave them, not just for them but because she loved them. She sat back down on the floor, the weight of her break down taking a toll on her as she became exhausted. She was so tired all the time. A mixture of the lack of sleep, the energy it took pretending to be okay, and the weight of all the guilt, all the sadness, all the grief.

“Beetlejuice.”

She didn’t even know if it would work. She didn’t know if her doing this would even summon him anymore.

“Beetlejuice.”

Even if it did work he probably wanted nothing to do with her. She wouldn’t blame him, she wasn’t want to deal with herself either. She was a fucking mess, nobody should have to deal with this. She didn’t know what she was even bothering, she shouldn’t be bothering him he deserved his shot at happiness. Just because she ruined her own doesn’t mean she should do it to him. That just proved to herself more that she was a selfish monster.

“Beetlejuice.”

There he was. She couldn’t believe her eyes at first when he appeared but there he was standing in her bathroom. He didn’t even look confused he simply fixed his hair in the mirror while he casually said, “I was wondering what was taking you so long, kid.”

“W-what?” she hiccuped

“You sure took your time summoning me back,” he glanced down at her and his tone changed instantly, “What’s the matter with you? You okay scarecrow?”

She couldn’t help but give a small smile at the silly nickname he had given her. She lept up from the floor and threw herself into a hug with the demon, “You’re not mad I called you here?”

“Mad?” he questioned, still not sure why Lydia was hugging him. Even when they were friends she didn’t hug him except when she was tricking him in the marriage. He had to admit he admired how clever she was, but something about the way she was holding onto him now made him think this was different than before. She was desperate. She was alone. And she called him. Not Chuck. Not Babs or Sexy. She didn’t even go to Delia. Whatever was wrong this was something either very bad or something she wanted to keep a secret, “Why would I be mad that you called?”

She sniffled in his coat, he ignored the fact that she was getting snot and tears all over his coat, though granted with all the other stains he wouldn’t really be able to tell. She croaked out a weak explanation, “Because you were looking for your dad, and I brought you away from that/”

“Oh my god that was for dramatic effect kid, my dad left when I was a baby I don’t give two shits where he is. What I do give two shits about is why the hell are you sitting alone in the bathroom looking all sad and pitiful after I cleaned up everything so nicely for you? I got rid of my mom, I fixed your whole fucked up family situation. So why am I here.” he looked around the room for any kind of clue. He saw something orange in the garbage can and released himself from Lydia’s grip, grabbing the bottle and shaking it. Sleeping pills. Looking at the script it wasn’t expired so there should be no reason it was thrown away other than... “What did you do?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I didn’t. I didn’t actually do it. I thought about it, but I couldn’t do it.” she turned her face away like she was ashamed of herself, but she stuck her chin up and cleared away the tears in her eyes, “I didn’t want to do it.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had no clue how to handle someone in a fragile emotional state as hers. He was never good at the whole emotional thing, he had stopped her once before but that was because he was being a dick and only wanted to use her to get what he wanted Now they...he saw her as a friend, like the little sister he never had. He asked the only question that he knew, “Why?”

“I can’t take it anymore.” She sunk back down on the floor and burrowed her head into her knees, unable to even make eye contact with him anymore, “I’m a monster and I didn’t think I deserved to keep going on after everything I’ve done. I hurt people! I traumatized people, that poor little girl scout, god I probably ruined her life. I almost exorcised Barbara, I caused so much damage and-and-and I FUCKING KILLED YOU.”

Beetlejuice stopped. He had been listening attentively until she mentioned him, “Kid-”

“I fucking killed you! How can you just be standing here and not screaming at me or hurting me. Don’t you want revenge?’

“Is that really what you think of me?” he asked, hurt by her words, “Kid why the hell do you think I saved you and your family? My mom was going to drag you back to the Netherworld and that would have been the end of it, you would have been dead. Now here we are, you were about to just do it for her and you only wanted to because you thought I was going to hurt you? Really Lydia..you really think I don’t give a fuck about you? Look I did some fucked up shit but I have never wanted to do anything that would hurt you.”

“Why! Why do you care about me? I killed you!”

“Not gonna lie, that did kinda suck but I’m not meant to be alive Lyds, I’m meant to be dead. Think of it as you doing me a favor life is a goddamn roller coaster and I was not at all prepared for any of it. It is a good thing you stopped me, I was so out of control I could have killed you all. Lydia, you did what you had to do. It’s better this way.”

She was silent, not moving or even looking up at him. He sighed and sat down on the floor with her, she eventually roused a little and rested her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a while, her breathing slowing down and a little color returning to her unnaturally pale face, a little life returning to her eyes and she glanced in disgust at the pill bottle now thrown in a corner of the floor. Beetlejuice didn’t move, he didn’t make any crappy jokes or poke fun at how emotional she was being, he just let her sit there on the floor as she attempted to regain her composure. While his words had been a slight comfort she still couldn’t shake the feelings brewing in her stomach. She thought she was going to be sick, but she hadn’t been able to properly eat anything almost all day her stomach had been so upset. She huffed out a shaky breath and looked up at the demon in her house. He looked just like he always had, his hair an unusual white color but tinted purple at the ends.

“I still hear it..and see it. I feel like I’m drowning and I’m constantly fighting back the waves. It’s so exhausting fighting all the time. I killed you” She whispered, “You were alive and I took a-aa... and I killed you. How are you sitting here with me right now? I murdered you!”

“It was you or me Lydia.” he reminded her, “And it is honestly better for everyone that it was me. I have a way back, you didn’t. You would have been gone, stuck in the Netherworld forever and you would have no way back. Lydia, you’re just a kid, I couldn’t handle it if I had killed you hell if I had killed any of the assholes in this house. I have no clue why I wanted to be a human so bad, I wouldn’t have any of my cool powers like I do as a demon. Like this-” He waved his hand and two more of him showed up, leaning casually on the door, one making a very silly face earning a weak laugh from Lydia, “I really only wanted to be alive again so that I wasn’t invisible anymore. I wanted so badly for someone to see me, for someone to actually be there and want me there. When you wanted to find your mom I felt like you were abandoning me.”

Lydia bowed her head again, remembering the broken-hearted look on his face when she ran up the stairs so determined that what she was doing was the right thing even though everything she had been doing was so very wrong, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, really kiddo. I’m used to it by now. People only deal with me when they want something and when I stop being that, they’re onto the next thing. Don’t give yourself any credit for originality, you weren’t the first and you definitely won’t be the last. People don’t want me.”

She felt tears running down her face again as memories of how they bonded over their shared invisibility surfaced to her memory. She acted out because she wanted to be seen, she wanted to feel like she belonged in her own family again, and she was so caught it up looking out for herself that she didn’t consider anyone else, but she wasn’t alone in that either. She knew Beetlejuice was the same way. Neither of their actions were justified, they both made mistakes. They both hurt people, including each other, but maybe...maybe they would help each other now. Maybe they could help each other be better. She took his hand in hers, it was so much larger than hers was that his almost swallowed hers when he closed his grasp. She looked up at him with her tear-filled eyes, “I want you here.”

“Kid no offense but you don’t want me here. You wanted me to make you feel better and I hope I did, one of us should be happy.”

“I missed you.”

He stared at her, like a deer in headlights, unsure of his next move. He looked down at this kid...god she really was just a kid. She was so small and young, and vulnerable just like he had been and he fucked her up. He did some real damage to her and she said that she missed him? He couldn’t deny that he missed her too, they had some fun during those two days her dad was gone. She was a funny kid, and it did his cold-dead heart some good when he actually saw her laugh and smile. He thought he was helping, but looking at her now he couldn’t help but to feel responsible for how broken she had become. She was driving herself insane blaming herself for his death, she had bags under her eyes and he believed her about the nightmares it looked like she hadn’t slept since he left. He hadn’t wanted to leave but he thought it would be for the best if when he did come back it was on their terms. When she summoned him he didn’t even care why he was just excited to see his friend again but now he wanted to run away, leave before he made things any worse for her than they already were. Chuck would get her a good therapist and she could have a happy life, and all of this..all of him would just be a distant memory.

He must not have said anything for a while because now Lydia was looking at him with her big sad brown eyes, just waiting for a response, “Beetlejuice..can I ask you something?”

“Sure bud.”

“You can be honest with me, I completely understand all things considered but.” She twisted her fingers in her hands, “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah,” he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and hugged her gently, “Yeah I did.”

“I want you to stay. I want you here, I think we could be good.”

“Good?”

She nodded, “I think we could be good for each other. I want to be good again, I want my mom to be proud of me again.”

He bit back a comment about how her mother was dead and had no clue about what Lydia was doing never the less Lydia’s morality, he figured that wasn’t what she needed to hear right now instead he rolled his eyes playfully trying to ease some of the tension, “You’ve always been good Lydia. I tricked you into doing some shitty stuff. You would have never had to do any of that shit if I hadn’t forced you to. Lydia, it was my fault, trust me I never take responsibility for my actions, that’s how I roll but this? This was all me, you need to stop beating yourself up over it. I was being a real asshole and I fucked up a perfectly good goth kid because I was lonely.”

“I’m lonely.” she admitted to him, “Maybe we can be alone together. Friends?”

He chuckled, ruffling her short black hair, “BFFFFs forever. Now you just have to convince everyone else to let you have a demon roaming around.”

She punched his arm jokingly with a genuine smile on her face, “I’m sure they’ll all come around.”

It was that awkward time of the night where it was both late and early. Too early to be awake for the day, but too late for her to go to bed without sleeping until an ungodly hour. She and BJ went down to the living room and watched movies together until she eventually fell asleep on the couch, her light snoring distracting him from the cinematic masterpiece that was Ratatouille. When the movie ended and he was sure she was asleep he floated out of the living room and went back to the bathroom, he picked the pill bottle up off of the floor and put it back in the medicine cabinet. He picked up the scattered bathroom items that she must have been throwing before she summoned him, making it look like nothing at all had happened. He thought about running away, she was asleep. She wouldn’t notice until the morning but something kept him from leaving, it wasn’t that his abilities were weakened but something inside him was keeping him here. He just kept hearing her repeating in his head that she wanted him to stay.

He was wanted.

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tropicalfreckles · 4 years

Text

Friends Again CH 4

MASTER LIST found here

B**TLEB*BES DNI

Summary: Lydia always wondered how everything worked with the ghost-born demon, including how he was able to leave the house without being sandworm chow.

WARNINGS: Spiders, Body Horror, Ommetaphobia

"Adam, Barbara, I'm telling you that this crystal would just bring such positive energy to the room!" Delia exclaimed while throwing her arms into the air in dramatic fashion. Barbara followed close on Delia's heels as the younger, deceased woman clasped her hands together.

"Delia I understand you're having another one of your 'inspiration episodes'. How about we just decorate the top of the fireplace with some of the crystals. Instead of having a giant one placed in the middle of the room?" A strained smile creased Barbara's lips as she tried to compromise with her friend. Adam gave a short nod to his wife's idea.

"I agree with Barbara. It would look a lot more balanced than just having it in the middle of the room." Adam motioned to the whole room as he gave a small smile to Delia. She looked them both over then peered to the fireplace.

"You know, I think you're right Barbara! It probably would get tedious walking around the crystal every time we need to sit on the couch. I'll need to look into which crystals I want to put up there." Delia rubbed her chin in thought. Barbara and Adam exhaled a breath neither needed to hold. Charles had been sitting off to the side and gave the two a subtle thumbs up. The older man's attention turned to the creaking footsteps of the familiar combat boots that came from upstairs. A soft smile crept upon him as he gave Lydia a nod.

"Did you need something, Lydia?" Charles set down the book that was in his hand as he stood up from the chair he had been in. Lydia jumped down the last two steps then looked up to her father.

"I just wanted to go on a walk around the neighborhood. I'll be back." Lydia began heading to the door after giving him a short wave. Charles briefly gazed down to his watch before turning fully to look back to her.

"You have your phone on you, right?" He inquired.

"Yes, dad. Don't worry so much." Lydia waved him off. The young teen gave her goodbyes to the others then made her way out the door. That was easier than she thought it would be. Well, it wasn't like she was going across town. Her dad had been a bit more protective of her ever since the events that followed their move to their new house. Always making sure she had her phone on her in case anything happened. She began to tread down the steps of their front porch. She made sure to be careful of her footing across the unruly grass that needed to be tended to. A gust of wind blew by as she felt the pressure whip around her back. Lydia shuddered while gripping onto her arms.

"Chuck must be the trusting type, huh?" Beetlejuice chuckled. The demon hovered nearby her and gave her a thumbs up.

"I mean telling my family I'm going out for a walk isn't really that suspicious." Lydia shrugged. "So.. about that stuff from earlier." Beetlejuice gave her a hum in response as the two slowly walked down the hill. "Did you actually go look for your dad? Or were you just being dramatic?" Beetlejuice wrinkled his nose.

"Well, yeah. I just wanted to make you feel guilty. Getting sent back to the Netherworld right now is not on my to-do list. Why the hell would I even go look for that deadbeat?" He grunted then kicked his feet to the ground to float away from it. Lydia jumped over a big rock jutting out of the dirt as she watched him.

"So what exactly were you doing there? Did you get in trouble at all for the stuff we did months ago?" Lydia asked. The demon crossed his arms, his eyes traveling away from her.

"They had me holed up in some shithole for two months in 'breather time' I guess. Time works a helluva lot differently in the Netherworld. It dragged the fuck on when they put me on paperwork duty. It was a temp job to keep me there for whatever reason. That's what I was up to for the last couple of months. I don't want to talk about it." He grumbled. Small streaks of reds, blues, and yellows bled into his green hair. Lydia decided it was best not to push the moody demon for now. She was curious why he seemed to be cutting her so short on details yet knew she had to let him open upon it in his own time. Lydia still found it odd to even herself she wanted to work things out with him. Like being around him at all. She figured it was just still wanting real closure with him. Would she keep up hanging out with him like this? She wasn't sure. It was just somewhere to start at least. Lydia moved to playfully punch at the older man's arm.

"Fine, fine. At least you're not stuck there anymore." She waved him off. "Now you get to hear that beautiful sound again." Lydia gave him a wicked smile, Beetlejuice lighting up to her words.

"Now you're talking. Let's go scare the shit out of some chumps!" He gave a sharp-toothed grin then shortly after moved behind her. Wrapping his arms under her armpits he then lifted her up into the air. He flew down to the bottom of the hill after making sure there weren't any breathers that would notice them. Lydia let out a small yelp followed after with a shriek of laughter.

"Don't you dare drop me!" She clung to his arms and gave a kick of her legs. Beetlejuice snorted.

"Please, you weigh practically nothing, Lyds. Thought you wanted to try that trusting crap out more. This is a good trust exercise if you ask me!" He snickered as he flew them over to the closest house then landed them both down at the side of it behind some bushes. Lydia gave him a small scowl when she turned to him as she fixed her dress.

"Give me a heads up next time at least. Asshole." Lydia scolded. She turned to look at the house next to them. Thoughts of what kind of scare they should go with began to run through her head. Should they just wing it? Or come up with a solid plan. Last time they scared together it all just kind of happened naturally. Maybe they should just go with their guts. It would be nice to blow some steam off doing this for an hour or two after. Therapy helped her with more things than she thought it would after slowly opening up. Though this was a thrill that really helped her let loose. Especially with the stress of school, she was going through at the moment. Beetlejuice seemed to notice her overthinking it since he gave her a hardy slap on the back. She grunted then shot him a glare.

"Don't overthink it, kid! Let's just see if the old bat is home first." He smirked at her. Giving her a signal with a wave of his hand the two approached the windows quietly. Beetlejuice phased his head through it then scanned the room. A light was on upstairs so that must be where she was. It would take a good minute or two for her to answer the door if they decided to get Lydia inside the more legal way. He couldn't exactly phase her through the wall as he could. If she was dead that would be another story. However, he wasn't planning on letting her join him on the side of the deceased any time soon. He could always just teleport her inside as well. He was so engrossed with his thoughts he hadn't even hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. He noticed last second when they echoed louder down the steps and made himself invisible once more. Phasing out he pushed Lydia's head down below the window so she wouldn't be seen.

"Hey!" She frowned then swatted his hand away. He hushed her as he narrowed his eyes. Shit, maybe it was the wrong house? Coming down the stairs instead was a man who was definitely younger than the old lady he saw here just yesterday. Either way, they could still scare him. He looked like one of those overly paranoid and religious types. An obvious comb-over on a very pale head. Khakis that made even the ones Adam wear look like they were in fashion. A pale-blue plaid shirt. This man was probably the dullest breather he ever laid eyes on. Which was saying quite a bit. Beetlejuice ducked below after taking note of which direction in the house he moved to.

"Alright, new plan. Either the old bag has another breather living with her or this is someone else's house. We can still work with this. Old bastard looks like one of those old testament fans." He snorted. Lydia crossed her arms.

"I don't remember him living here. I could've sworn it was an old lady, too. I remember dad talking to her more than once this year." Lydia looked up at the window then sighed. "I mean, it doesn't matter either way I guess. I want to scare someone today. Alright. So how do we get me in there?" She swung her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the front of the house. Beetlejuice stroked his chin.

"That's what I was mulling over. I could dress you up to look creepy. Go with the ol' ghost kid scare, teleport you in." Lydia's expression brightened at this new revelation.

"Wait you can teleport yourself places?" Lydia questioned. She couldn't help but let her curiosity peak through.

"Within reason, yeah. I still can't exactly go much further than this damn neighborhood at the moment when I'm summoned. Since the only graveyard around is the one on the other side of your house. I'd need to be invisible to look for another one to go through." He explained while periodically peering through the window. Lydia was intrigued by what limitations his powers held. Lydia tapped her hand on her thigh in thought.

"That why you didn't just up and leave for good? You're stuck here?" Lydia questioned, giving a tilt of her head. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue while his fingers flexed into the palms of his hands as he fidgeted in place.

"Listen if you want a rundown of how I work I'll give you the short version. When I'm summoned directly from the Netherworld I'm stuck with the breather that did it until I can get another sap to summon me. It's some complicated bullshit that goes along with my little shtick." He rambled on. Lydia crossed her legs while sitting on the ground now.

"I remember you saying before ghosts couldn't leave the houses they stay in. How the hell were you able to leave after I summoned you a week ago? Thought sandworms would be waiting out there for you. I actually wondered that when I woke up for my nap." She rested her cheek against her hand. Beetlejuice groaned. Why were kids so fucking nosy. He rubbed his hands over his face as he thought over his next few words.

"Yes, okay, yeah. Typically I can't leave the damn house. The normal way at least. I'm not really housebound as much as ghosts are since demons work on a different set of rules. If I walk out a door I'd be worm chow. If I however can see a graveyard within distance, or if there is one at least sort-of-nearby I can just fly out the window. It's like a way station for demons. I can travel through more when I'm not summoned. Invisible. I also can travel further distances when summoned if I left the Netherworld the way I usually do. However since you summoned me straight out of it; I'm stuck with you until once again, someone else says my name." He was standing now, pacing back and forth as he went listing off how things worked. "Once I leave the graveyard I can also go around to the houses in the area freely without worrying about those worms. I can't leave the neighborhood itself though." Beetlejuice huffed as his gaze traveled back down to Lydia.

"Sooo. What if someone who summons you after me says your name three times again. Do you just become invisible once more or go back to the Netherworld?" Lydia got back up to her feet. Beetlejuice frowned a bit.

"Honestly. Not too sure. I think I just become invisible again. What, you planning on getting Chuck or Delia to do that?" His face scrunched up as he got defensive again. Lydia shook her head with an annoyed sigh.

"No, I told you I wouldn't do that. I promised. So long as you don't try murdering me or my family then we're good." Lydia tapped a finger to her chin. "Okay. One last question then we figure out how to scare this guy. You said you can make me look all creepy. How do we do that?" Beetlejuice rubbed the palms of his hands together as he let out a wicked cackle.

"Leave that to me." A snap of his fingers and Lydia's dress appeared more weathered and tattered, her hair becoming disheveled. He gave another snap as a makeup kit appeared in his hands. He gently grabbed her face with one hand, as another arm grew out of his back to start applying the makeup while his other hand held the case. Lydia stared at the third arm growing out of his back. "Little makeup here, there. Make you paler. Gotta put more bags under your eyes annnd... few scars here." His tongue stuck out of the corner of his lips as he concentrated on his work.

"Done!"

Lydia pulled from him when his hands moved away. With a flick of his wrist, the makeup box was replaced with a mirror he promptly showed to Lydia. She moved the pads of her fingers over her cheek while gazing into it. She definitely looked a lot more dead. He somehow made her eyes look sunken in as well. He was pretty good with makeup to her surprise. She kind of wished he made her look more gruesome and mangled. Oh well, maybe for the next scare. She was getting as antsy as he probably was and wanted to jump into it already. Speaking of Beetlejuice, he seemed to be staring at her as if expecting something. Oh.

"It looks pretty good, Beej. I look creepy." Lydia grinned. Beetlejuice puffed out his chest with pride then held out his hand for her. She grimaced a little. He definitely hadn't washed his hands in ever. Definitely the same gross, creepy old guy she first met. Lydia could grin and bare this. Taking his hand she gave him a nod. He pulled her close.

"So I've never actually teleported a breather before. It might be a little overwhelming...even if it's just literally inside the house next to us." He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Oh well. Let's just jump into it!" He turned to look inside of the window. Lydia was starting to have second thoughts about this. Too late, however, she felt a wind pressure engulf her as her other hand clung to his arm. In a flash of blinding light she felt weightless. Dizziness washed over Lydia for a moment as she closed her eyes tightly. A second later she felt a hand gently patting her shoulder followed by a quiet voice.

"Hey. Kid. You good?" Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia let go of him then grabbed at her head.

"Yeah. You were right. It was kind of overwhelming. I'm fine, though." She reassured him. Her eyes traveled around the room. They really were inside of the house. The teen couldn't help the rush of excitement bubble inside of her. She didn't feel like she could be in danger since having a demon as her partner was guaranteed her safety. Especially since he's saved her life once before. Though at the same time the thought of getting caught was kind of exhilarating as much as it was worrying. She gently patted the back of her hand against his arm.

"So what now?" Lydia asked in a hushed tone. She was smart enough to not let the person or possibly multiple people living there know of their presence quite yet.

Beetlejuice studied the house. The sun was starting to set more in the sky. Good, this could work for him. He quietly motioned for her to stay low and follow him as best she could. He moved to peer around the corner. First, he figured it would be good to start to get rid of the other lights. With a clap of his hand, the lights all began to dim and flicker. He had to make a good show of it to set the unease in for the occupants of the home. Then all of the light bulbs on the first floor burnt out. A surprised grunt followed by a short string of cursing followed suit. Lydia tried not to snicker while Beetlejuice giddily bounced in place. He rolled his shoulders then looked over to Lydia.

"Okay. I got him warmed up. I think he's the only one in here. So he doesn't think you're an intruder, I'll do some classic shadow scares to get him on edge before you come out. Do whatever comes naturally for ya." Beetlejuice turned to place his hands against the walls. Lydia took a step back to watch in awe as shadows shot out from under them. They bled up into the walls then scattered to the living room down the hall. Some peeled off of the wall to make inhuman long strides around. They were all shaped like him as well. As dusk began to set in all around the house the shadows became more inhuman in form then all slithered out of view. Lydia watched until the last one was out of sight. She then slowly started creeping down the hallway as quietly as she could. Beetlejuice had already phased through a wall off ahead of her. She could hear the pounding of her own heart. Her breath stilled. A panicked shuffling could be heard followed by some clattering of items in the other room. The man was worked up. Perfect for her. Lydia changed her expression the best she could to something eerier than slid her fingers along the corner of the doorway in front of her. Slowly she crept around the corner while jerking her body and making a low moan that echoed into a clicking sound.

"What in the name of Christ-!!" A terrified older man stood before her, a lamp in his hand that he gripped close to his chest. His eyes were wide as he trembled in place. Unable to make a move to even attempt an attack on her Lydia seized this opportunity to scream at the top of her lungs at him while dragging one of her feet behind her. The guy let out the loudest, blood-curdling scream he could muster then slammed the lamp on the ground. He started to run around to the other exit of the room only to body slam straight into Beetlejuice. Who appeared to have made himself noticeably quite larger. Spider legs were growing out of his back and he had multiple eyes opening over every visible bit of skin on his undead body. The man had fallen back onto his rear as he tried backing up from the demon while Beetlejuice dislocated his arms and made a swing at him. The guy just barely managed to dodge him before scurrying on all fours underneath a hovering Beetlejuice. Within seconds the two heard the front door slam as he screamed all the way out of the house. Lydia and Beetlejuice moments later both erupted in a gleeful fit of laughter.

"Holy crap! That was so much fun!" Lydia grabbed at her stomach as she cackled. Beetlejuice shifted his body back to normal as he wiped at a faux-tear.

"I think he legit pissed himself when you came around the corner and made those noises at him! It was great!" Beetlejuice held up his hand to give her a high-five, Lydia surprising even herself, reciprocated it. Both of them grinned wide at the other. "Ahhh shit. We should do some more!" Beetlejuice clapped his hands together. Before Lydia could respond, a repetitive pinging sound erupted from the pocket of her dress. Lydia heaved a sigh then pulled it out.

"I'd love to, however, looks like dad's telling me to come home." Lydia gave an annoyed huff. Beetlejuice frowned as he gave her a 'tsk'. He hovered over to the hallway then looked straight out to the front door.

"Well, looks like guy high-tailed it out of here. Think you can walk out the door. Sure you can't just skip curfew and act like a true rebellious teen?" He peered over his shoulder to her. Lydia considered this for a moment then gave a shake of her head.

"No can do. Normally I would, just... I don't want to get grounded and miss out on more scaring this week." Lydia shrugged as she walked towards the front door. Beetlejuice perked up a little.

"Scare more?" He smirked.

"Yeah, I only got a little taste of scaring again today. I want more." Lydia playfully shoved him then wiped the makeup off her face. "Oh. Could you change my dress back? I actually like this one." The teen grabbed at the edge of her dress and picked it up for emphasis. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, the dress glowing then shortly after returned to how it once was.

"Alright. So. Same time tomorrow?" He grinned at her. "I'll skulk nearby to check in on you earlier in the day so we don't have to cut it short."

"Yeah, sounds like a plan. Tomorrow I don't have school either so it works." Lydia gave him a nod. She closed the door behind them when she walked out after making sure no one would notice her. "I'll meet you outside tomorrow. I don't want the Maitlands to see you on the roof." She held out her hand for him. Beetlejuice took it then gave it a shake.

"Deal!"

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #my writings #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice bway #lydia deetz

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