A big book of small stories

Say My Name (Beetlejuice x tiny reader)

Why did I live in a morgue? The place smelled of death and the dude there was creepy as fuck. So of course the universe wasn't on my side and I finally got caught by the creepy old guy. He peered at me hungrily through the glass of the jar.

"I think I just might have the right tools..." he mumbled to himself before setting the jar down on the kitchen counter.

"Tools? What tools!?" I shouted.

He ignored me and disappeared up the flight of stairs. Well this sucks! I looked around at the dimly lit surroundings. My hook and all my tools were still on the ground and I obviously wasn't strong enough to break the glass, so escape wasn't looking too good. The loud sound of thunder made me jump. Well I guess that I'll be dying on a dark and stormy night. I had accepted defeat when the front door was kicked open.

"Stupid rain, took the flame outta my cigarette," growled an unfamiliar gravely voice.

The man stepped into the light and I was able to get a good look at him. He had a black and white stripped suite with muddy black dress shoes. He had wild green hair and grey blue skin, with hints of a moldy green around his face and hands. Maybe he was friends with the morgue guy? Actually maybe not, I don't think he has any friends. He looked around the dark room and giggled to himself.

"This is the house of a mortician if I've ever seen one! I wonder if he's got any dead ladies layin around!" he rubbed his hands together.

"Gross," I grimaced.

The man froze and locked his eyes on mine. He cocked his head, confused.

"What?" I snapped.

"Can ya-can ya see me?" he asked.

"Yes...?"

"Are ya alive?"

"I think so..."

He bounded over to the counter I was on. I jumped back out of surprise.

"Oh this is fantastic! I mean I woulda preferred an actual person—but hey, yer alive!"

I tried backing up even more, but I was already right up against the glass.

"What are ya supposed to be anyways?" he asked as he leaned in close to the jar.

"A borrower. What are you supposed to be?"

"Imma demon straight from hell!"

My blood ran cold. From what I've seen in horror movies, and the guy that lived here watched A LOT of horror movies, demons weren't a good thing.

"Ya alright babes? Ya look like ya've seen a ghost!" he cackled.

I started to shake. He seemed to notice because he broke into a grin, showing off yellow and crooked teeth.

"Aw I'm sorry babes,"

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

"Well, whaddya wanna be called then? I gotta long list a' nicknames!"

"Call me Y/N,"

"Y/N... meh. I like small fry better," he looked me up and down before continuing. "Ya look like ya could use a hand," he said as he popped off his hand.

I let out a yelp as it landed on the counter next to the jar. He let out another cackle as he put it back on his wrist.

"Uh yeah... that would be appreciated," I mumbled.

"Great! All ya gotta do is say my name 3 times and ya've got yerself a deal!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"