The Devil on My Shoulder (Beetlejuice x Reader)

My Personal Alarm Clock

"Hey, prima-donna, wake up."

I stirred groggily, groaning and rolling over onto my side, away from the voice. I heard a sigh.

"(Y/N), babes, you gotta get up. You're gonna be late."

The covers were abruptly ripped off of me, leaving my legs and arms suddenly cold. The transition from nice and toasty to icy cold was enough to get me to sit up, quickly snatching the blankets back and wrapping myself up like a burrito. I glowered at the suit-clad phantom sitting on the end of my bed, scratching at his green, moldy stubble.

"I was FINALLY sleeping good."

My friend shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "If you wanna be late for your date, which I still don't approve of," he added quickly under his breath, "then by all means, toots, go back to sleep."

I sighed. He was right. I needed to get up and get dressed if I was going to make it to my breakfast date on time. I wanted to make a good impression, and didn't want my first impression to be of me rushed, disheveled, and late. Not a great foot to get off on.

So, I groaned and rolled out of bed, heading to the kitchen to grab a muffin and sitting at the bar with it. I flipped on the tv and logged into Netflix, playing the next episode of NBC's The Blacklist. My mother had gotten me hooked and I had been binging.

Unfortunately, a body floated in front of my line of vision at a very crucial point in the episode. I huffed in frustration.

"Beej, man, you gotta move. I can't see."

"Who wouldn't wanna see THIS??" he said suggestively, floating on his side and gesturing to his body.

"Me. I don't."

He glowered at me and crossed his arms. "Wow. Rude, much?"

I rolled my eyes at him, pausing the show. I had lost all hope of finishing my episode this morning. Raymond Reddington would have to wait, unfortunately.

I threw away my muffin wrapper and stretched, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth, spritz on some perfume, dab on some light makeup, and brush through my (H/L), (H/C) hair. Once I had done all that, it was time to find something decent to wear.

I went back into my room, vaguely aware of Beej floating behind me. I opened my closet door and put my hands on my hips, searching for an outfit that wasn't a sweatshirt and shorts. I hummed to myself, eyes raking over all the racks, running through scenarios in my head.

I was a bit of a romantic. I had dreamt of having a boyfriend for most of my life; even when I was little, I deeply desired to have a companion that would hold me close, would protect me, and would love me. Maybe I would finally get that today.

I had had many an unsuccessful relationship in my life, and that left me guarded and insecure about putting myself out there too quickly, and getting my heart broken in the process.

That's how it always went with me; I would dive in head-first, ignoring the warning signs and catching feelings way too early in the relationship. Every time a guy would tell me he'd moved on, it felt like a little chink of my heart was being chipped away, and I worried that, if things continued the way they had been going, I wouldn't have any heart left to give away, if my soulmate ever did decide to show up in my life.

Beetlejuice knew this. I had told him all of this.

When I first met him, I wasn't terrified, just thought my sleepless nights were finally taking their toll on me, causing me to hallucinate this dirty man with electric green hair and a knack for making dirty jokes. Over time, I had befriended the strange phantom and had even welcomed him to stay in my home, provided he minded my rules and didn't cause trouble for the rest of my family, who lived upstairs.

I was taking a gap year, and during that time, I was staying in my parents' fully finished basement, paying cheap rent and also having the comforts of my family being around.

However, that DID pose a bit of a problem, as they often heard me talking to myself and laughing at seemingly nothing at all. It was a difficult situation, and I would just make up excuses: I had been laughing at the tv/YouTube/a text a friend had sent me; I had been talking to a friend on the phone; I was just talking to myself, getting a game plan together for the rest of the day. My family bought it, for the time being.

But I just wondered how much longer I could hide the fact that my best friend was a demon.