Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Podfic now available: https://youtu.be/cSBoHsrsztk

It was a fucking disaster, is what it was! It wasn't like Betelgeuse's plans had never gone to shit, quite the opposite; his plans ALWAYS went to shit in some way or another, but this time? This time took the fucking cake ! Getting eaten by a sandworm just moments away from being free as a bat at dusk, now that's a story to tell the grandkids–wherever the fuck those little turds were. How could this be the end? How could he have gotten so close, only to come out of the other end of a giant, very satisfied, striped asshole? At least one of them enjoyed themselves. He shuddered at the memory of being squeezed right out into a steaming mountain of sandworm shit.

What was he supposed to do now? Wait his turn with the other deadbeats in waiting room 8, just to get bitched out by the cunt-of-an-ex-boss? Again?! No. No freaking way. This was it. This was the last straw that broke the corpses back, and Betelgeuse was ready to go to war . 

The riled up poltergeist shot out of his chair, still in tatters from his meet and greet with the jaws and intestines of that legless, enthusiastic fucker on Saturn. (The beast actually took a liking to Betelgeuse once he was out. Must have grazed the thing’s sweet spot or some shit.)

"I'm not gonna stand for this," Betelgeuse said with righteous determination while standing. "I'm the ghost with the most!" He beat his chest with an angry fist and stomped his foot on the ground. "I do what I want when I want, and none of you dupes can do a thing about it!"

"You!" Miss Argentina shouted from the reception. "I can hit this big red button right here and send you right back to where you came from if you like," she grinned wickedly. 

Betelgeuse held up his hands in surrender. "Woah! Not necessary, babe," he winked, exposing his grimy overbite. "I'm just gonna hit the john, maybe have some grub, and I'll be right back." He chuckled slowly and dangerously, placing his hand to his chest and straightening. "Cross my heart and hope to live," he cackled wildly and popped into the midplane between life and death. Time to pay up, betrothed. His shrieking laughter rang through time and space as he zeroed in on his target.

He landed in a darkroom. It took a few moments to realize he was trapped in a negative hung to dry.

"You ruin my art, and I'll ruin your afterlife," droned a familiar feminine voice from afar.

Betelgeuse craned his neck every which way to catch a glimpse of the snot-nosed, betraying, little shit. The backstabbing kid was gonna feel his wrath from here to kingdom come– HOLY HANGIN' GEMSTONES BELOW! 

A slim form was hunched over a table, examining her work with a Buddhist monk's calm and concentration—jet black hair pulled up in a messy bun, chocolate eyes, moonlight pale skin, and grown up in every way that counted in his books! 

Mother o' pearl, look at those tits!

"Yowzers!" Betelgeuse let out, followed by a sharp whistle. "How long was I in that literal shithole," he grumbled and scratched his head, utterly confounded. 

"Eighteen years," Lydia replied dryly, not sparing a glance in the poltergeist's way, making Betelgeuse feel entirely insignificant. 

It was insulting. It was infuriating. It was-it was-it was... It was a massive turn on , and Betelgeuse was instantaneously stiff in more ways than one. 

He leered in her direction, even though she was still ignoring him, and scanned her top to toes again, shaking his head in bewilderment. Betelgeuse hummed with approval. "May I just say, you're lookin' like a beetle on a cracker ta me right now, babe. Ya sure as hell didn't get your pop's looks, thank my lucky stars," he mumbled the rest.

Lydia arched a brow, the only sign she had heard him at all. 

Lordy-lord! That stoic, unperturbed, porcelain face was making him itch in all the right places.

"I wondered when you'd have the stones to come back," Lydia murmured absentmindedly.

Oh, this bitch was messing with the wrong dead man. "Is that right," he drawled with a sneer. "Well, honeybun, your wait is over. Time to ta hold up your end of our deal."

Lydia scoffed with the tiniest smile, her complete amused disregard for the poltergeist going straight to his dick. 

Look at me, look at me, look at me! Betelgeuse shook himself and tried to sound as menacing as possible and not like he wanted to grovel at her feet and beg her to scratch his head like the flea-infested dog he was. "Sweetums," he warned, "I think you remember what I'm capable of–hard to forget, I'm sure. I'd watch yourself if I were you."

This time, Lydia did turn her gaze up to meet the ghost, but the look on her face was far from frightened. There was a wicked glint in her hooded eyes, but the rest her face remained as impassive as ever. "What are you going to do? Summon a merry-go-round and a jumping mice circus? Dress as a clown? Oh, wait," her brow furrowed slightly, "you're already in costume."

Oh my god... Cupid had aimed a long-range missile right between his legs and shot his cock up to the heavens that didn't exist a moment ago. 

Betelgeuse actually needed to swallow for the first time since he'd keeled over. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were bugged out. He needed to get this shit under control, or he was gonna roll over and let his tongue loll out of his panting, rabid mouth. He cleared his throat and adjusted the lapels of his ruined wedding tux. 

Lydia had the decency to keep eye contact, but it unnerved him, and that was just insane. "Listen, kid, uh, woman, uh, pretty lady," he stammered, "I bent the laws of nature for you, saved your friends, scared your folks straight, I'm due some compensation, okay?" Betelgeuse couldn't get over sounding like a handyman being gypped out of his hard-earned cash by an unsatisfied customer. "We made a deal," he all but whined. 

The medium raised a single brow and smirked, giving Betelgeuse her undivided but callous attention. "Poor Betelgeuse," she cooed.

The ghost could not suppress the electric sparks from shooting out of his ears at the sound of his name on those pretty pink lips.

"Oh, baby ," Betelgeuse drawled, desire gripping onto his sanity and wringing it out like an old dishrag. "Two more times, and I'm yours," he breathed with manic, pleading eyes. "I'll do anything, and I mean... anything," he pronounced while whipping his arms open to make it abundantly clear. 

Betelgeuse could feel Lydia's eyes appraising him, and he was suddenly, painfully aware that he looked like he'd been chewed and shat out of a Saturn giant. She was looking at him like he was a bug–and not in a good way. 

"Anything?"

Betelgeuse latched onto the intrigue like a lifeline, because that's exactly what it was! "Anything," he swore and knew he'd follow through because-holy shit-she was gorgeous. To prove his point, he blinked a bouquet of roses into Lydia's arms.

Surprise registered on Lydia's face and then a smile, and fuck, he felt like she'd given him a treat for being a good boy.

"Cute," she deadpanned and let the flowers drop to the floor, "but cliche." 

Betelgeuse snapped his fingers, a box of chocolates manifested next, which Lydia snorted at. 

A wave of his hand brought a generous shower of jewels and gems. 

She rolled her eyes.

Betelgeuse snarled. "Aw, c'mon! Waddya want?! Dresses?" All manner of old fashioned gowns fell onto Lydia's lap. "Just say the word, and it's yours."

Lydia seemed somewhat pleased with the wardrobe above everything else, but it still wasn't the reaction any other woman would have had. Hell's bells, this woman was hard to please! He hit all the staples, didn't he? What else could a chick want?!

"Hmm," the stoic beauty hummed and shrugged, "I dunno, Betelgeuse ."

"One more B-word, snookums," the ghost pleaded.

She sighed dramatically. "I'm not very impressed, and I honestly have everything I've ever set my mind to," she looked at her nails and then dead in his eyes. "Except..."

Betelgeuse pressed his face up against the photo's barrier, squishing his crooked nose and fogging up the image. "Tell me," he purred, fire igniting every cold bit of his soul.

"You."

Betelgeuse let out a high-pitched wheeze and shot a hand to his dead heart. "Me?! Fuck, babe, ya got me! Hook, line, and sinker! Let me outta here!" He clawed at his prison and whimpered. 

Lydia's grin was downright evil, and the ghost shook in his boots. "I'm not going to marry you," she clarified. Betelgeuse deflated but waited for her to continue. "But, I'll let you out every once in a while if you're a good boy."

Good boy. "Want me ta be good? I'll be good for ya. I'll sprout wings and a halo for you, babes."

"I don't think you understand," Lydia chuckled and shook her head, bemused. "I'll own your soul, you'll be my errand boy for all of my whims, and I decide if and when you get to come out to play."

"Yes." Betelgeuse had said it without hesitation, and no follow-up.  

Lydia's eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. "You can't be serious," she narrowed her eyes. "I'm offering you scraps!"

Upon snapping his fingers again, Betelgeuse's ears grew and flopped over, a tail sprouted out of his ass crack, and a collar with the name Lydia in big neon green letters wrapped around his neck.

"As long as those scraps come from your table, Lyds, I'll sit, rollover, and even play dead for ya." He grinned wide, let his tongue roll out past his chin as he panted, and let out a needy bark.

It was obviously the right thing to do because the passive woman burst out laughing. It was music to Betelgeuse's new doggie ears. He was so in trouble.

"Okay," she let out on a breathy giggle. "Then we got a deal... Betelgeuse ."

The ghost cackled and cheered. "Aw, yeah! It's showtime, babes!"

Chapter Text

Listen to the podfic version here: https://youtu.be/cSBoHsrsztk