The Devil on My Shoulder (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Mustard Yellow

I still stood in front of my closet, trying in vain to pick something cute for my date. Beetlejuice floated beside me, studying my clothes, as well. I glanced at him.

"I'm never going to find ANYTHING besides athletic shorts and sweatshirts," I lamented, sighing and rifling through my hangers one by one, just to make sure I hadn't missed anything.

"I could help you out, Shorty, but you know the deal."

Yes, I did know the deal. Was I going to go through with it, though? No, no, absolutely not. I still didn't know what all that actually entailed. After all, I had only known Beej for about two months, now, and even though we had spent a WHOLE lot of time together, he was still..... well, UNPREDICTABLE.

So, no. I wasn't going to summon him. Not yet.

I knew he couldn't interact with the physical world until he was summoned, so him making me an outfit was out of the picture. I was just going to have to wing it.

Luckily I had a couple of summer-y day dresses in the storage room (because I never wore them unless I had to), so I headed to the large room, flipping on all the lantern lights. The room brightened and I saw all the scattered toys of my younger three siblings, stepping over Barbies and LEGO bricks carefully. The whole thing was parallel to trekking through a minefield. I cursed as I stepped on a particularly sharp LEGO brick, hopping around like a drunk flamingo having a seizure.

Beetlejuice chuckled, a slightly surprised look on his face. "Hadn't heard THAT one outta you before, babes."

I glared at him, cradling my foot as best I could without losing my balance and falling flat onto my butt. "Yeah, well, I was raised in a strict home, and I try not to make it a habit, unlike SOME people."

"Hey, I'm working on it!"

I sighed, limping over to the racks of old clothes on the far side of the room and looking through all the pastel colors.

I didn't mind pastel colors every once in a while, but blacks and greys and deep blues were my favorites. They weren't too bright, didn't blind people, and just suited my aesthetic a whole lot better than "bubblegum pink".

I finally decided on a mustard-colored dress with spaghetti straps and white chevron. The scalloped hem at the bottom came up just above my knees. I pulled its hanger off of the rack and held it up against my body, making sure the length was still where it was supposed to be. But I mean, it's not like I had grown ANY in a year. No, I was STILL my short, 5'2" self. Short n' curvy. That's what Beetlejuice said about my body.

Well, that's not the ONLY thing he's said about it, but that's the only thing I'll mention.

"What do you think?" I asked him, turning to him with the dress on its hanger.

"Make-you-puke-yellow's not really my thing, but whatever floats your boat, toots."

I rolled my eyes and traipsed back to my room, dress in hand. I turned to close the door, but found that Beetlejuice was already in the room.

"Beej, we've talked about this."

He sighed in defeat and lazily floated through the wall and out of my room.

Once I was sure he really WAS gone and wasn't peeking, I undressed and slipped into the day dress, wincing at how bright the fabric was. My mother really DID love me in pastel colors. I spun slowly, looking at my reflection in the full body mirror hanging on the backside of my closet door.

All in all, I didn't look half bad. Sure, this wasn't my choice of color, but I could look a WHOLE lot worse. I threw on some white sandals and grabbed my keys and purse from my dresser before opening the door.

Beetlejuice gave me a once-over. "Not bad, Little Miss Sunshine."

"Thanks for that LOVELY compliment, Beej."

He giggled. "Any time, Short Stuff."

"Well, wish me luck!"

Beetlejuice's brow furrowed. "You don't seriously think I'm letting you go without me after that last dou-" I have him a look. "....DIRT bag, do you?"

As much as I didn't want to admit it, he DID have a point.

My last date was an AWFUL disaster. The guy tried to lure me back to his truck for a drink and then.... you know...

He wanted some action, if you know what I mean.

He didn't get very far with that, though, because Beej possessed him and forced him to take a crowbar to both rear-view mirrors and all the glass on his brand new Silverado. This was an ultimate blow for the old-fashioned country boy, because when he finally regained control of his faculties, he just had a mental breakdown. In Bama, where I lived, everybody knows you don't mess with a country boy's truck. I had explained this to Beetlejuice when he first showed up, because he was new and asked me why a lot of the guys I followed on Instagram posted more photos of their trucks than of their own families, so no doubt he took it to heart and used it against that dude that night.

He saved my butt. And I was extremely grateful.

So it made sense that he would want to come along with me to this date, as well, so he could make sure nothing bad happened to me. I mean, it WAS a valid point. But that didn't mean I was happy about it.

I sighed in defeat. "Get in the car."

He lit up, and with a wink and a flash of green sparks and smoke, he was gone, probably already waiting in the passenger seat of my lime green Kia Soul.