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santacarlatourism · 1 year

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hi i liked the way you write, could you do something about the first kiss between reader and kevin katchadourian? i hate loving this boy

You had no way of knowing what this would spawn lmao, but I ended up running with this idea of doing a little ficlet/scenario series drawing inspo from Taylor Swift song lyrics about kissing.

So, here is the first one!

I feel like this is a goes without saying sort of thing if you're reading fucking kevin x reader fic but warning for toxic relationships & manipulation

screaming and fighting and kissing

Pairing: Kevin Khatchadourian x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

[…]Screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name I'm so in love that I acted insane And that's the way I loved you Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much

You know that Kevin is bad news. He practically had it plastered across his body. It was present in every step he took, every sentence he spoke, every time you caught his eye and he looked at you like he could see straight through your flesh and into something much more grotesque. You had noticed it all the way back at your middle school dance, when he told that one classmate of yours– what even was her name? You can’t remember– something so awful that she ran off the dance floor and you didn’t see her at school until two weeks later.

You’d never figured out what Kevin said for sure. But you didn’t have to in order to get the point, to learn the lesson: stay away from Kevin Khatchadourian. Or so you had thought. Because against all better judgment, you had started hanging out with Kevin. At first it was going along with him and that little goon of his, Lenny. From the start, you could tell that Kevin also didn’t think much of the guy. You like to think that you’ve been a bit more subtle in your dislike than Kevin has been, though, so why the two continue to hang out is a mystery to you.

But then you began to hang out with Kevin alone. Ostensibly, him inviting you to hang out one-on-one should mean that he likes you and enjoys your company. The thing was, however, you haven’t been able to tell if he actually does. For one thing, Lenny was an example that for whatever reason, Kevin would hangout with people he didn’t even like. For another, as you learned, Kevin can be incredibly inconsistent. Sometimes when you arrived at his house, he wouldn’t even be home like he said he would be. If he bothered to actually let you know when he was canceling plans rather than simply standing you up, the text or phone call always arrived last minute. Sometimes they even came in when you were already en route to your destination.

So, why had you put up with it till now? The very simple answer, you regretted to admit, was that at some point along the way you had caught feelings.

You aren’t sure exactly when those feelings began developing. But you remember the first time he was talking to you and you felt yourself get lost in those big brown eyes, and once he realized you had zoned out and weren’t listening to what he was saying Kevin had rolled them and turned back to his computer.

And you remember the first time that his inconsiderate behavior had actually caused you to cry in your car. It was two in the morning and you’d made plans to drive out for a late night meet up at Waffle House, only for him to text you that he wasn’t coming. It’s something you’ve never told him about and never plan to. You just sent a “k” back and, once you composed yourself, drove back home and went to bed. You remember one time when he grabbed you by the shoulder to move you out of the way, and even though it was a brief touch, you felt your face heat up.

And all though perhaps you became a little bit of a pushover as a result of your crush, you did have your limits, as Kevin was now finding out. This time when you came over, he was home. You had resolved on your drive over that if he was there he would be getting an earful.

“Kevin, we need to talk,” You say, the moment you shut his bedroom door behind you.

“Do we?” He asks, not bothering to turn his head from his computer to look at you.

“Yes,” You reply, standing behind him. You keep your voice as calm as you can, not wanting to seem too emotional or irrational. “You treat me like shit.”

“Do I?” And that’s when you realize he’s not taking you seriously. You pull out your phone and start tapping on it. When he doesn’t hear your retort, he speaks again. “And is that all?”

“I’m blocking your number.” You say. “I’m tired of your shit, Kevin.”

“Really? You had to drive all the way over here just to block my number?”

It infuriates you that he assumes you’re bluffing, assumes that in a few days you’ll come crawling back. “Yes, because so far, the only thing that’s come of our quote unquote ‘ friendship’ is you using me for your own amusement to see how fast I’ll come running,” You tell him.

“And?” He asks. He sounds bored with this conversation, with you, as he continues working at whatever he’s doing. Playing around with one of his viruses, maybe. “You always have.”

That’s when you snap. You like to think that in most circumstances, you’re a bit more mature. That if it was anyone else, you’d simply walk out of that bedroom, slam the door, and not look back. But he’s gotten under your skin now like he always does. It’s not in the way he’s clearly become accustomed to being under your skin though– the way you’ve grown so tired of, where he keeps baiting you back to him, giving you just enough semblance of a friendship to make you question if you’re overreacting to his negligent behavior.

This time he’s not toying with you from afar over text messages and phone calls. This time Kevin is directly provoking you, and you do not respond kindly to it. You step over to his computer and push his computer monitor off the desk and onto the hardwood floor. The glass breaks.

You’re silent for a moment. There’s not a moment in this where you look like you’ve lost your composure, where your face is contorted with rage or where you’re screaming. It’s like your body acted of its own accord. “Shit,” You grumble, after a minute.

Kevin finally stands up. You step back. “Don’t worry. Mumsy can always buy another one,” He remarks of his dearly detested mother as he takes a step closer to you.

You feel almost like he’s sizing you up, and despite his calm demeanor you wonder, for a second, if he’s planning to hit you. But then he takes another step and then you’re pressed against the blue wall of his bedroom and he’s kissing you. Everything is silent except for wet mouth noises and the occasional sound of shoes sifting through glass and Kevin Khatchadourian is kissing you.

It’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. Even if perhaps it should be entirely unwelcome in every way possible considering the conversation you just tried to have.

He finally pulls away after a moment. You see something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a reciprocation of your crush, of your feelings, or if it’s more so a bodily sort of hunger. Either way, you’ve ignited something in Kevin that you haven’t noticed there before. You take pride in it.

“Do that again,” You say, voice low. He complies.

#kevin khatchadourian x reader #by santacarlatourism #post: scenarios #post: fic

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mdemn · 4 months

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@demonzriti commissioned me to write this little silly fic for @sametrapeni the other day. it’s really just 1,065 words of crack mpreg!sam/paulie.

i’ve never written anything like it, but with the week i’ve been having, it was so refreshing & fun to write! i hope i did the idea justice for you & i hope it can bring a smile to @sametrapeni’s face! they’re lucky for a partner like you!! <33

read & enjoy if that’s your thing! and if it’s not but you have a self-indulgent thing (no matter how silly you think it is!) you’d like for me to write for you, check out my kofi! & my ao3 for writing refs & commission rules! but know there’s really very little i wouldn’t write & can/will do other fandoms!

Paulie walks his fingers over Sam’s tummy, and Sam won’t ever admit it, but it’s the number one thing he’ll miss the most about the pregnancy.

Though lucky for Sam, he doesn’t have to, because Paulie does it for him. “I’ll miss this.” Paulie mutters, flattening his hand to rub over the hard lump where the baby’s resting. “Feelin’ ‘em in here like this. Knownin’ you’re really carryin’ ‘em. Our baby.”

Sam rolls his eyes, fighting the smile tugging at his lips. “I won’t. This shit is for th’ birds.”

Paulie laughs, loud and full, and at this Sam does smile. It’s impossible not to.

“Sam, I—“

Sam cuts Paulie’s words off with a groan, loud and long. He tilts his head back against the headboard and cradles his stomach. He sighs through his teeth, he can almost feel his eye twitching as the pain radiates through his lower back.

“Sam? Sammy? Hey, what’s wr—“

“Shut up, Paulie.” Sam grits out, like every word takes incredible effort.

Paulie’s alarm only grows as he sits up. He looks down at Sam and Sam contemplates punching Paulie right upside the head. Sam has begun to sweat just a little, his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His breathing is labored and concentrated.

“It’s. I think.” Sam takes a deep breath, groaning through the pain again, “Christ. Christ, Paulie. I think it’s time.”

“Time? For what? Sammy, time for what?” Paulie asks, his voice raising in alarm with each question.

Sam looks at him with a flat affect. And again, he considers hitting Paulie.

“Oh, I don’t know, Paulie. Time for some fuckin’ tea and cakes, maybe? Maybe time to go for a light stroll? Maybe time for a shower? Jesus Christ. I think the baby’s coming you fuckin’ dunce!” Sam yells, his eyes slipping back closed, his breathing laboring even more with every breath.

The panic shows on Paulie’s face as he throws the blanket off of them. “What?”

“Paulie. Don’t piss me off.” Sam answers, his voice still on edge.

Another contraction hits Sam and this time he groans loudly, bringing his knees up. He nearly screams, his hand slipping under his shirt to rub at the skin of his taunt stomach. The baby is much lower than it had been previously. And Sam doesn’t know anything about birth or babies and really isn’t sure how they ended up in this predicament in the first place but Jesus Christ this hurts. How did Tommy ever convince Sarah to do this twice?

“Sam. Sammy. You have to breathe. What did Sarah say? Like HEE-HAHH-HEEE-HOO—“

“Paulie. I’m going to fuckin’ shoot you. I swear to God, I will. I swear to fuckin’ God.”

“Sam. That’s not breathin’. Maybe you need to stand? Walk around, right?” Paulie jumps out of bed and puts his hands on his lower back, and starts pacing around, “Like this, right? Sarah did a lot of walkin’ when she had her baby girl. Oh Christ, should we call Sarah? I’m gonna call Sarah.”

“Paulie.” Sam grits again, then groans, another near scream. “Sam!” Paulie rushes to Sam’s side, places his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Baby? What is it?”

“Sit.” Sam takes another deep breath, “Down.”

Paulie nods, and sits on the edge of the bed, snaking his arm around Sam’s shoulders. He stays still for about another minute, before Sam feels another wave of pain, similar to the first, hit him like a ton of bricks.

He tries not to let on how badly it hurts, but honestly? Getting shot hurt less.

Paulie notices Sam tense and he jumps out of bed again, “I’m callin’ Sarah.” he mutters, mostly to himself, as he nearly sprints out of the room.

Sam had known, realistically, that Sarah would be his midwife. There’s no one he’d trust more. Sarah had two children, and had had them at home, more or less by herself. But the idea of Sarah seeing him like this, in pain, writhing, the idea is mortifying.

However, he doesn’t have time to deal with that, as the pain takes over again.

“Paulie!” Sam shouts, followed by another groan, “Get. In. Here. With. Me.” He forces every word out and in the silence in between words, he can hear Paulie talking, muttering, the scratch of a pen, like he’s taking notes.

“Just a minute, baby. Hold on!” Paulie calls back, then Sam can hear him mutter, “And what else, Sarah? Hurry. What else? Are you sure you can’t be here no sooner?”

Sam is feeling homicidal actually. He thinks it’s time to give into it. He might just kill Paulie before he ever gets to see his big-headed baby.

Sam has just about settled on the fact he’ll be a single father when Paulie comes back with a cup of ice and a small hand towel from the kitchen.

“I’m here, Sammy. I’m here.” he mutters, rushing to the bed.

“Sarah said this will help. Here.” Paulie leans over and puts a damp towel on Sam’s head. It’s ice cold and oddly, supplies immediate relief. Sam hadn’t realized he was so hot.

“She said you can chew on this ice. Don’t know what it’s supposed to do but she swears by it.” Paulie pushes the cup into his hands. “And to take your pants off. Which you know I have no problem with. Heh.” Paulie chuckles and reaches for Sam’s pants.

And the homicidal urge fills Sam again. He grabs Paulie’s wrist, almost spilling his cup of ice, “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Me.” Sam grits, through crunches of the ice.

Paulie laughs, has the audacity to laugh. This causes Sam’s eye to actually twitch.

“Well, had you been sayin’ that 9 months ago, maybe we wouldn’t be in this, huh?”

Sam stares at him. He feels the rage fill in every pore of his body, and he realizes he has to speak, because if left alone with his thoughts for a moment longer, he’d kill Paulie. Truly and honestly.

“Paulie. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Get out!”

“Now c’mon Sammy—“

“OUT!”

“Okay, okay!” Paulie laughs, and that beautiful crooked smile doesn’t leave his lips, and Sam is in limbo between wanting to shoot Paulie and to kiss him until they’re both breathless. Which of course makes Sam more upset.

Sam waits for Paulie to be turned around before he starts to strip out of his pants. He loves Paulie. More than life itself, and God, anyone knows that. But Christ.. he hopes their baby doesn’t get his sense of humor.

#i actually was having a lot of fun and could’ve kept writing this 😭#like EASILYYY #imagining sarah coming in and tommy had to stay home with the two babies and paulie has been banished to the living room #the way sam wouldn’t have let paulie in the whole time and sarah would’ve been bossing him around and ensuring he’s still helpful #like idk a lot about child birth in the 1930s but i can’t imagine it was pleasant ❤️#sam trapani #paulie lombardo #salie #sam/paulie #paulie x sam #sam trapani x paulie lombardo #sam trapani/paulie lombardo #mpreg sam trapani #salie fanfic #mafia definitive edition fanfic #post: personal #post: fic

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wiltf · 1 year

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at perhaps the third shout of frustration, seven had enough.

book snapping shut, shuffling past avina, he is moving down the bus. and were it not for the continued and growing sounds from the room at the end, seven might’ve been more. mindful. okay sure, he was watching out for any instruments left out, but that jacket underfoot wasn’t one of theirs. did he purposely step on a few cds, which gave a satisfying crunch? no. not at all.

at the door of the backroom, seven gives one look at where pope was lying on the nearby bunk, clearly also annoyed. and then he knocked. loudly. thumping at the door until there was muffled swearing getting closer.

and,

well,

seven had some regrets.

the door slides open, and whilst he would like to say he met the wild-eyed look of jennifer first, flustered and hair a mess. and then he would’ve liked to say that the next thing he noticed was strewn about clothing, shoes, and other bits from what looked like show preparation. seven in fact noticed none of this, and by the sounds of things, neither did pope.

“what?! i’m busy. have you seen orion?”

tangled red hair, pasties, fishnets. jennifer clearly didn’t give a shit, or maybe she didn’t even realise, because she was still waiting on an answer. “well?” extends a hand, and seven didn’t even notice the heeled boot, until it hit the doorframe. “have you seen orion?”

each word drawn out, and seven. well, he knows he was probably going red, ears burning as he pulled his eyes up. loud swallow. “uh—you’re loud.”

eyebrows shoot up, and when she crosses her arms. seven turns his head, watching as pope seems to go through several stages of grief and interest.

“right, well. anything else? have you seen my manager?”

“no.”

on some level, seven did wonder if this was intentional, standing there the way she was. out the corner of his eye, the shoes are thrown over her shoulder, hands land on her hips, and. she’s assessing him, in that all too familiar way. realisation dawning, as jennifer seems to look down.

back up at him. “seven, you used to eat me out in bars, you know i have a dimple on my ass, and you’ve seen my tits before—this is a tour bus, get over it.”

pope explodes with laughter, devolving into barely contained snorts. all of which seems to magically summon her manager now, appearing over his shoulder. seven doesn’t jump, of course, while orion hands a suit bag over, resolutely looking jennifer in the face.

“this was hung up beside rowan’s bunk.” perhaps, if seven had the capability in that moment to respond, he would pick up the somewhat disappointed tone. “thank you!”

one more look, door slamming shut. laughter still coming from beside him, and seven turns to be almost face to face with orion. a cool and collected expression, one that might have suggested such a thing was a normal occurrence, or that perhaps,

seven was in the wrong.

door slides back open, and jennifer is pulling one arm through the suit, while the other holds a brush. wordless in the way they worked together then, orion doing the zipper and tidying the material around her back, while the brush is pulled quickly and furiously through her hair. moving through the disorganised bus with ease, as there are boots pulled from the cupboard beside rowan’s bunk, jennifer only stopping after a few feet to pull on one, then two.

she’s zipped up, stepping out of the bus, hands pulling down the front of her bodysuit to readjust. orion disappears wordlessly after her, brush placed on the counter beside the exit, with the door closing behind them.

at the click, the illusion is shattered. seven buries his face in his hands, as keiran hurries down from the other end, avina following, questioning. what was that? what happened? why is pope laughing? head swivelling so fast between seven and pope, that keiran’s head was surely going to pop off. avina’s hand is gentle on seven’s arm, insistently trying to pull his hands away.

“what happened?”

when seven relents, exposing his no doubt red face, he gives pope a very firm look. “not a word.”

“sure, chief,” pope chuckles, a sarcastic salute to drill the point home, as keiran starts shaking the bunk now. wanting answers.

ones that seven knew he wouldn’t be able to fully prevent pope from telling, as he sent one last look into the room behind him. and stormed back over to his now-cold spot on the lounge, pen in hand, book open to a blank page. all of this bravado fails him at the last second, as his forehead hits the table, and seven lets out a groan of, “shit.”

#infamous if #oc: jennifer lamb #c: seven lawless #post: fic

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bibibuck · 19 days

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people telling you they reread your fic is the biggest compliment you could ever receive. there are thousands of stories out there begging to be found, to be explored, but your story meant so much to someone that they came back to it eagerly, they went over every word again. to love is to return and loving a fic is rereading it. thank you to all readers and rereaders <3333

#post sponsored by someone commenting on my newest fic that they reread it only a day after the first time #.text

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fanficmemes · 1 year

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Love when writers do an insane amount of unnecessary research for their fics. I follow an author that did like 8 months of intense research into 14th century Scotland so they could write smut about it, and guess what. It was some fucking incredible porn AND I learned about old Scottish politics

#personal tag #and I’ll stand by them!!!!#author of this fic I summon thee to this post #I love your intense research and I don’t give a FUCK how long it’ll take to post a chapter #take your time I’ll be here :):)

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littlelightfish · 28 days

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This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

#dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #if someone wants to write a fic on this #@ me #PLEASE I WANT TO SEEEE #or dm me so i actually see it #please #if someone makes something of this post...#swnd me an ask with a link #this post exploded i cant with all the notifs #i wouldnt know if someone @'d me #i did a tags recap down on the notes and wrote a bit of #chilchuck angst #for the simps out there #my shit

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magnusbae · 10 months

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To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

#i said i wont ever rant about this bc it's unseemly but HONESTLY.#you simply cannot complain about not having enough of A or B or C and then never reblog / interact with the content you love.#If you LOVE something you cannot just leave a like and silently wait for more to happen #I know countless of content creators that simply stopped doing art/writing fic/making edits #You need to understand that fandom content is made FOR the fandom FOR the engagement FOR the entertainment and fun it makes.#If a content creator does not have fun IN the fandom-- why would they spend the scares free time they have on making this content?#And we're not talking about things that you don't like-- no one expects you to reblog things you don't like.#However I think it's safe to say that when a post has more than 5k it's not some random shitpost with no value.#tumblr issues #tumblr #content creators #buns.txt #something something please don't starve your local clowns

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iamanartichoke · 9 months

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I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

#fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #fandom things #tumblr things #i may have said this at some point #i'm sure i have #but whatever - just in case #i don't say this with the presumption that i'm so amazing and people are clamoring to save my fics #but just if anyone is so inclined that's all #ftr i don't intend on ever removing my fics from ao3 or deleting fandom things from this blog #i've always shared my fandom things with the intent of keeping them shared bc that's the whole point of posting #but the fandom atmosphere and ao3 constantly being under attack who knows what can happen #not that this applies to anyone but should all else fail you can also reach out to me and i will personally give you a copy #at least of fics bc i save everything #not so much the tumblr things but this is a good reminder to myself that i should do that for the things i care about #that i've made or done and only posted here #anyway sorry i have now used up my quota of the putting words into sentences doing for today #i have plans to stare into the void now

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eskildit · 6 months

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In a better kinder world. Gideon nav would have been at the club.

#😔#the locked tomb #eskildit posts tlt #she would have loved it #admittedly I do have a fic concept about her at the club but I uh refer to it as #Gideons no good very bad night at the dyke bar #sorry king I’m making you suffer like this #gideon nav #ok to rb

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lazylittledragon · 1 month

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if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

#i'd have like. five. which isn't a lot but IT KEEPS HAPPENING #stranger things #platonic stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #here we go again boys #i've had this floating in my head for a Minute and i was like #nah i'm not gonna do it #maybe i'll anonymously write a fic #but no we're mombin posting on main #i think on twt we agreed it's a 'what's the worst that could happen' situation #platonic co parents can be so so so personal #also i have One more stobin wip and then bg3 again i swear #when i have a baby i Will be putting my giant black wings on beforehand #they have to know what kind of family they're coming into #cw pregnancy

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santacarlatourism · 1 year

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chaperones (beetlejuice x reader)

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: You and your ghostly boyfriend have volunteered to chaperone at Lydia and Sky's prom night.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and alcohol, but in a canon-typical way

Word Count: 2.4k

“Beetlejuice, you’re not bringing bugs into the country club,” You gently chide your boyfriend, picking spiders and centipedes and other creepy crawlies off his suit and out of his hair.

“Aw, come on. Lydia doesn’t mind.”

“No, and I don’t either,” You place a kiss upon his cheek, “But the school board might not feel comfortable with a bug-covered demon chaperoning the prom. Far too much liability, insurance would never cover it if something went wrong.”

He groans, but he knows you have a point. And you know that he really does want tonight to go well for Lydia and Sky. And while you, Beetlejuice, and Lydia may all get a kick out of some creepy crawlies terrifying a bunch of the rich parents of Lydia’s private school classmates, Sky was still not quite used to the way things crawled off of Beej– and sometimes onto her.

“Are you guys almost ready?” Lydia asks, banging on the basement door.

“Just about!” You respond, pulling a final bug off of Beetlejuice which vanishes into smoke as you hold it. It’s always hard to tell which bugs are real and which ones are just cosmetic.

Beetlejuice grins and the door unlocks, swinging open by itself. Beetlejuice is more or less in simply a cleaned up version of his usual striped suit. The big reveal is you– you’re in similar black-and-white attire, clearly coordinated to match your partner.

And while you two look like a box set, the two girls standing at the top of the stairs look as different as the moon and the sun. Literally. Sky worked hard to customize their outfits after all; Lydia’s one condition about going to prom was that she would not be wearing one of those colorful, gaudy prom dresses they sell at Macy’s. Her dress is black with tulle and flecks of silver. She’s wearing the halo headband with silver moons and stars sticking up from it that Sky made. Sky, in contrast, has on a yellow dress with white tulle and dangly golden sun earrings.

“Remind me to never try to outdress you two,” You tease the two girls.

Lydia normally rolls her eyes and snarks back, but on this occasion she simply smiles indulgently because of the way Sky beams at your praise. “She worked hard to really put these outfits together,” Lydia comments.

Sky giggles and blushes. “Oh, you’re sweet, liddybug,” the blonde says, and you discreetly nudge Beetlejuice to keep him from bursting out laughing at the cheesy, punny nickname that Sky has assigned to Lydia.

“We should get going,” You say, grabbing your keys. Since Sky’s parents do lean on the more protective side, they insisted the girls not drive alone in case there was any alcohol. Since you and Beetlejuice had volunteered to chaperone to save Lydia the embarrassment of her parents being at prom night, you agreed the two could ride with you.

Chaperoning had been your idea. You’d only been dating Beetlejuice a couple of months now, but you had known the household a fair while longer. The PTA had been requesting another pair of chaperones, and you’d swooped in to help Lydia out when Charles and Delia were considering going. Lydia was grateful when you offered– the mental image of her or Sky’s parents dropping the two girls off or worse, actually being at the dance, had made her visibly shudder. It constituted a far worse visage than any horror film she’d seen.

Of course, getting out of the Deetz-Maitland-Juice household is never easy. “You girls look amazing!” You hear Delia coo at the young couple before you and Beetlejuice even make your way up the stairs.

Beetlejuice hops onto the railing and slides the rest of the way up on his side, grinning– “And what about me, baby?”

As you make your way further up the stairs you see Delia roll her eyes, but gently pat Beetlejuice on the head like a puppy needy for approval. “Yes, you look wonderful,” She praises.

“Aren’t you excited?” Barbara asks Lydia, smiling ear to ear and taking her by the hand to twirl her in her dress. Lydia’s smiling too and she looks like a cool goth princess. You suspect the prom dress will make its way into her day-to-day wardrobe after tonight.

“Now, you two,” Charles says to you and Beetlejuice, as Delia begins the work of posing Lydia and Sky to take their picture. “I suspect tonight will go fine, but you do have my number if anything happens, or if anyone makes the girls… uncomfortable.”

“Don’t let the kiddos get ahold of alcohol, weed, blow, coke, or nose candy. Trust me, Chuck, we’ve got this,” Beetlejuice says, stepping over and putting an arm around Charles’s shoulder.

“Three of those were different names for cocaine.”

“See? If you need a guy that can spot when illicit substances are getting swapped around, I’m your guy!” Beetlejuice grins.

“Now you two!” Delia says, waving you and Beetlejuice over to stand against the wall so she could take your photo too. You can tell Beetlejuice really does want the photo– and to have the weirdly classic, familial experience of getting his prom photo taken– because he’s focusing really hard to try and actually show up on camera.

It takes a few tries, but Delia gladly shows you both the photo. It has you smiling brightly at the camera alongside your beau, who shows up in the picture translucent, green, and glowing. “You’re getting better at that,” You praise Beetlejuice.

“Well, y’know, it’s basically just doing the opposite of what I’ve been doing since 1816,” He shrugs, adjusting his tie with a satisfied expression.

Lydia grabs your wrist to haul you towards the door. “We’re gonna be late!”

“Drive safely, now! Don’t let her rush you!” Charles tells you.

“Dad!”

Upon arrival at the prom, you find a discreet corner inside the venue near the bathrooms. Whispering his name under your breath, you re-summon Beetlejuice, and he poofs into full-fledged visibility. You can tell he’s allowed some of his grime to return, but the lights are dim enough that you doubt someone less familiar with him would notice it. You lead him back into the room.

Lydia’s student government had opted to have a cloud 9 theme for the prom. You remembered her annoyance that they chose that over her suggestion to have a Carrie theme prom, a suggestion Beetlejuice had emphatically encouraged. Still, the decorations turned out cute– giant glitter-covered cotton balls colored white and pink and purple dangled from the ceiling to mimic clouds, alongside paper stars. You were glad that with the help of Sky’s creativity, Lydia had been able to make the theme her own.

“So this is a prom, huh?” Beetlejuice looks across the sea of sweaty, adolescent breathers, leaning against the refreshments table. He only takes a moment to take it all in. “Kinda bland, honestly. I mean, come on, did anyone even spike the punch? Eh, quick fix. Grey Goose or Wild Turkey, babes?” He asks, conjuring up a couple of bottles, one in each hand.

“Beetlejuice,” You give him a disapproving look, hoping he has the sense to not actually get a bunch of high schoolers absolutely wasted.

He groans and makes the bottles disappear. “Come on! Not even any pig’s blood? La-ame!” He waves his hand in a tossing motion causing a concerning metal tub to appear, levitating over the stage that’s been set up to announce prom king and queen later in the night.

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s disappointment, swatting at him light-heartedly. “You can’t just be popping things in and out of existence in the middle of a crowd, honey. Beej, I told you watching Carrie and Prom Night on repeat would not help you prepare for tonight. No blood. They went in a different artistic direction.”

“Straightedge. Buzzkill. Square,” He pouts, all though he still gets rid of the tub before anyone notices it.

You expect that you’ll be spending a bigger portion of the dance trying to keep Beetlejuice entertained than preventing teenagers from bumping and grinding, if the first thirty minutes are any indication. Beetlejuice keeps pulling you around the dance hall, thinking of ways to “improve” the night which, while intriguing, are likely not covered by the permission slips the parents signed off on.

All though this means that technically you are not fulfilling your duties, you justify this to yourself by remembering that a bored Beetlejuice is a troublemaking Beetlejuice. A far more concerning beast than raging hormones. Still, you know that your attention is not enough to totally sate all his mischievous qualities.

“I haven’t seen you two around here before,” An older woman says, stepping up to the two of you. “Were you two at parent-teacher conferences? Which kid is yours?”

You smile politely, “None, actually. He’s…” You glance at Beetlejuice, uncertain how to describe his relationship to the Deetz family “Lydia Deetz’s uncle,” You decide. “We’re dating– he volunteered to chaperone in Charles’s place.”

“Ah,” The woman says, as if suddenly the appearance which the two of you have makes much more sense.

Beetlejuice is grinning broadly. You know he’s done a lot to repair his friendship with Lydia after extorting her to get a chance at life, and being referred to as part of the family makes him preen. “Yup, that’s me! Good ol’ Uncle Beej.”

“Beej? Ah, yes, Lydia has mentioned you. What’s that short for, anyways?”

“Benjamin,” You reply to the woman with a completely straight face. Your response catches Beetlejuice off-guard and he grins deviously at you. Oh, he does love it when you’re a deceitful little breather. Although you deeply love your boyfriend and think the odd celestial name suits him, you also are careful on the occasions where you have to introduce him to other people. There’s always a chance that, if someone knew his name, they could accidentally end up sending him away. And that would necessitate some very messy explanations.

Normally you introduce him as Lawrence, which always earns quite an indignant pout, but since he beat you to the punch Benjamin will suffice.

“So… Lydia’s mentioned me, has she?” Beetlejuice pries further. You nudge him playfully, able to tell how he’s fishing for compliments.

“Oh, yes. I’m her English teacher, Mrs. Greer.” She extends a hand to shake Beetlejuice’s. He shakes it, and it’s clear she can tell something is off with the way he feels but refrains from mentioning it. “She loves the creative writing assignments. She says she bases many of her stories off of tales you’ve told her.”

“She does?” You both ask at the same time. Beetlejuice’s demeanor brightens even further, while you look a bit more concerned. Lydia’s a smart girl, but she likes to push her boundaries as all teenagers do. You’re sincerely hoping she hasn’t written about anything that’s going to get Charles and Delia called in to the principal’s office on Monday morning.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Greer nods. “I had to ask when she had become so familiar with the works of Lovecraft. I would think them a bit much for a child her age, but she said she was simply going off of your descriptions.”

Beetlejuice nods sagely, “Ah, yeah, Cthulu. Great guy.”

You put a pin in that to inquire what the fuck he means by that at another time.

Mrs. Greer coughs. “Anyways, Lydia often spends the lunch break in my classroom, so we chat sometimes. She speaks of you highly and says that you’ve really helped her adjust after her family’s move from the city. She’s perked up quite a lot since she said you moved in with the family,” She smiles.

“...She has?”

“Oh, yes! And she’s such a brilliant girl. You must be very proud of her.”

Beetlejuice is blushing now, just a little. “Uh, yeah! That’s me! Proud, living, Uncle Bee– enjamin!” He says, catching himself.

“Well, don’t let me keep you two all night. You should go out, enjoy the dance floor, two young folks like yourselves,” Mrs. Greer says, saying her goodbyes and stepping back over to a group that you presume to be full of gossipy teachers who were sending glances your way the entire conversation.

“You good there?” You ask Beetlejuice teasingly. He’s gone quiet, which surprises you, because you almost expected him to start floating up towards the ceiling with pride during that conversation.

“Who, me? I’m fine!” He grins at you. “Just, y’know… A bit surprised.”

You roll your eyes. “Beetlejuice, it’s been months since that stuff happened. You’ve worked on dealing with things a bit better. And now you and Lydia have weekly horror movie nights and you beg for her high school gossip like you’re a character in a CW show.”

“It’s always so juicy,” He whines, causing you to laugh.

“Point is,” You emphasize, “It’s very obvious that Lydia thinks a lot of you. And that you think a lot of her.”

For a moment Beetlejuice is just absolutely glowing– somewhat literally, though he’s managing to keep it a little toned down. “Aw, babes, I didn’t realize you thought so highly of me!” You snort and plant a kiss on his cheek.

His gaze scans across the crowd as a romantic slow song begins to play, the first one of the evening. You can tell he’s debating something. You think that he’s maybe about to follow Mrs. Greer’s advice and ask you to dance before he gets a glint in his eye. “Geez, some of these breathers are getting a little too close. Aren’t we supposed to be stopping that?” He asks, snaps his fingers, and the song abruptly switches to the “Cha Cha Slide.”

Beetlejuice is grinning directly at Lydia, who had just been preparing to dance with Sky and who is now glaring over at the demon. He waves his fingers daintily.

“Come on, Beej. Let the kid have her fun.”

“Oh, I will. I’m just making her work for it,” He sits back with a smile.

You lean over, whispering in his ear: “And do I have to work for my fun?”

“Oh, babydoll, don’t you worry,” Beetlejuice replies, voice a little more husky. “Prom is all one big excuse for the post-prom night sex anyways.” He says, sliding a hand around your waist and pulling you closer. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you shake it on the dancefloor first.”

#post: fic #beetlejuice x reader #by santacarlatourism

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