#lydia deetz x reader

[pyr0-kai]

Alright the movie sequel is out where r the fics

[reareaotaku]

Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz Headcanons

[Seeing @peoplesgraves headcanons finally convinced me to do one, because I've wanted to do it since Astrid's]

Incompetent and Stupid are two perfect words to describe Beetlejuice

Lydia met you first when she first moved in

You were hanging out in a graveyard [You actually got lost and happened to run in her]

She found you strange and unusual- Her favorite descriptors

She invited you to her house and you slowly become friends

The ghosts- Barbara and Adam- tried scaring you and that's when you discovered Beetlejuice with her [Lydia's] help, because she discovered him in the attic when trying to figure out what the couple was hiding

Beetlejuice was fascinated with you

What were YOU doing with a girl like her? You're perfect and she's well... different

You're really easy to make happy, so he enjoys making you laugh

He originally tried to marry you over Lydia, but she wasn't going to allow that to happen

She tried to save you when Beetlejuice took you to the Neitherworld

He ends up convincing her of to an..... agreement-

One that you may not agree too

Usually Lydia would never agree to such a thing, but if she does, she can have you too. You might not like that, but you'll learn to love her- Even if you have to like Beetlejuice too

[He's really just in it for the ride. He's up for anything]

[iamnotoriginalphil]

The Halloween Party (Lydia Deetz x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Your friend abandons you at a Halloween party. Luckily for you, you find someone far more interesting to spend the night with.

Words: 4k

Warnings: biting, blood, marking, smut, drug use mentioned, hair pulling, rough sex, mentions of alcohol

The lights and the music were overwhelming. With the tight corset binding your waist and the heels on your feet, you were trying not to look as uncomfortable as you felt. You should have never let your friend convince you to come to the party. You certainly shouldn’t have let her dress you up in something she deemed sexy before abandoning you with to a bunch of strangers.

You didn’t even know whose house you were in.

You perused the snack table, chuckling at the plastic spiders scattered over the bright orange table cloth. Snatching up a handful of chips, you turned, taking in the crowd. Bodies writhed together in time to the music, flashing lights illuminating flashes of skin here, groping hands there. Your cup of red liquid sloshed in your hand as you pushed to the edges of the room, looking for somewhere quieter to perch until you could leave.

The garden was quieter, although hardly empty. Someone had started a small fire, the scent of burning sugar making its way to your nose. Lingering on the outskirts, you curled around it, shivering in the cool air. You were too far for the light and heat to find you, watching the flames flicker between shoulders pressed together and cigarettes being passed from hand to hand. Cloves and smoke and weed, all mixing together with the sharp sweetness of marshmallows burning as they slid off sticks under inattentive cooks.

You lent back against a tree, keeping to the shadows, enjoying the sting of cold air on your bare skin. You tilted your chin up, taking a deep breath that burned your lungs, the stars twinkling high above you, the moon almost new.

“Not your crowd?”

You tried not to show how startled you were. You’d wrongly assumed you were the only one skulking in the shadows, leaving the revelry for the people who had wanted to be at the party. Turning your head, glancing down, you found a pale face full of flickering shadow, the light from the fire playing over it, still staring at the group of people laughing. Dark hair and darker clothes, if anyone belonged to the night, it was this woman.

“Not particularly,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Why are you here then?” she asked.

“A friend needed moral support,” you replied, “is this the moment when you tell me this is your party?”

“Fuck no,” she laughed, “my ex thought I needed to get out more.”

“Your ex dragged you to a party?” you asked.

“No. He agreed to take our daughter for the night so I could come. It’s my producer’s party,” she replied.

You considered her a moment. She tipped her head back, leaning it against the rough bark of the tree. A flicker of familiarity went through you but you couldn’t place from where. Like a half remembered dream you’d had once many years ago.

“So why are you hiding from everyone?” you asked.

With face half in shadow, her dark eyes found you, leaving you a little breathless. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the ache of the heels pinching at your toes more a nuisance than anything else. Even in dark she was undoubtably beautiful.

“Who said I’m hiding?” she asked.

“You’re skulking in the shadows. Is there another reason if you’re not hiding?” you asked.

“I suppose not,” she said, her gaze drifting away from you again.

You kept looking down at her, wanting to catch another glimpse of pale skin, dark eyes, lips curling in a scornful smile. She was still staring out at the group by the fire, a guitar having been pulled from seemingly nowhere, the soft chords so discordant with each other. Her nose wrinkled and you had to bite back a laugh. Even her disgruntled expression was compelling.

“Why aren’t you with your friend?” she asked after a few moments of silence.

“What?” you asked, blinking back to the moment.

“You said you came with a friend who needed moral support but now you’re here on your own. What happened?” she asked.

“Oh.” You perked up, “the moral support worked and uh, she abandoned me to go talk to Rick.”

“Rick? Why would she want to talk to Rick?” she asked.

“She called it networking but… I dunno. Do you ever get the feeling that someone is speaking the same language as you but with different meanings?”

You shifted your body, turning it towards her, shoulder resting against the tree. Her head rolled towards you, finally looking at you again. It sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the chilled night air.

“She’s fucking Rick to increase her chances of being in one of his projects,” she said.

“Yeah, which is not how I network but then.” You shrugged, “I don’t work in this industry.”

“You don’t?” Her interest in you seemed to increase.

“I’m in tech,” you replied.

Her interest immediately retreated again. A pang of disappointment went through you.

“I write a lot of code. I test firewalls for companies. Like a contractor. I get to hack into people’s websites,” you said.

That usually impressed people. Usually being the operative word. She couldn’t have cared less.

“So, I guess I just have to wait around until she’s done,” you said, hoping that would get a response.

“Shouldn’t take long,” she snorted.

“Do you… do you know that from personal experience?” you asked.

The look she gave you was so full of disgust you reared back. She didn’t bother trying to school her features, those eyes sweeping over you with a judgemental eye.

“Why are you wearing that?” she asked, derision dripping from every word, “I would have expected your friend was hoping you’d be the honey pot in her plan looking like that.”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t really come with a costume so… she dressed me in her clothes for the party,” you said, looking down at your body.

The tight corset nipping in your waist, the short skirt, the lace showing off your skin more than you were used to, you could understand what she meant. Wrapped up so pretty, and without a bow. You’d had plenty of interested looks as you’d lingered on the outskirts of the crowd. Too bad none of them had enticed you.

And the only one you had was looking at you like you were…

“What are you meant to be?” she asked.

“I’m told I’m a witch, but we didn’t have the hat so I guess it’s a pretty bad costume,” you said, “why? What are you meant to be?”

Your eyes lingered on her. She was hardly in anything you recognised.

“Nothing. I didn’t bother with the costume. My ex is the whiz at all that. I only promised to leave the house for something other than work,” she waved off.

“So this is just how you normally dress?” you asked, eyes doing another sweep over her body.

“Why?” she asked in response.

“It’s cool,” you said.

She seemed to not have an answer to that. She settled back against the trunk of the tree, staring out at the group that had moved on to singing off key but enthusiastically. You sighed, slowly sinking down until you were sitting too. Taking the pressure off your toes, you groaned, tugging the shoes off to massage the sole of your foot.

“Those things are death traps,” she said.

“I’m not exactly enjoying any element of this outfit,” you said.

Her low chuckle was only audible because you were sitting right by her.

“At least it looks good on you,” she said.

“Oh.” It appears as if you were forgiven for your misstep, “thanks.”

“I’m sure Rick would prefer I dress more like that,” she said, “I had to compromise in the end.”

“Why? You look good in what you’re wearing now,” you said.

She turned to look at you, a slow drag of eyes that made you shiver again.

“Call it the misogyny of the entertainment industry, or the creeps who need to want to fuck the woman to pay attention to them, but sex sells,” she said, “I put on the costume and I do the work and I thank them for the opportunity.”

“It doesn’t sound like you like your job that much,” you said.

“It has its upsides,” she said, offering you a small smile, “I get to be on television.”

“I wouldn’t want that. I’ve always felt awkward when a camera is pointed at me,” you said.

She hummed but didn’t give you more of an answer. Her eyes were studying you and you let her, giving her the space to stare at you to her heart’s content. You liked the thought of being looked at by this woman.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” she eventually said.

“Nope.” You popped the p obnoxiously, but smiled to let her know you weren’t making fun of her.

“Lydia.”

She offered you her hand. You took it, the warmth of her skin almost burning yours. Your name fell from your lips, almost breathless from the feeling of her palm against yours. Her lips quirked up, not quite a smirk, but something approaching it. You couldn’t get a read on her, so aloof from the rest of the gathering and yet you had to wonder if she kept away for another reason. People pushing you to go socialise usually meant one of two things. Either you were some kind of hermit who refused to leave the house, or you didn’t like going to social gatherings. Which spoke to something else usually. The moment spun out for longer than you’d been expecting.

“You don’t know Ghost House?” she asked, finally letting your hand go.

“Sorry,” you said, shrugging, “I’m not much of a television person.”

She made a soft sound and lent back again, slightly closer than you were expecting, her shoulder brushing yours. You tucked your feet underneath you, letting yourself gently tip towards her, wanting more of her touch. With both of your faces turned towards the fire, it was easy to pretend like it was purely a coincidence. That you didn’t feel like she was a black hole, drawing you in with little more than a moment of her attention, dark eyes assessing you. Why did you want it to be a positive assessment?

“Do you think they understand how tragic they are?” she asked.

“I think they’re drunk and high,” you replied.

Her laugh was throaty, raspy, like a ghostly finger stroked along the length of your spine. She rose, not quite as elegant as you’d imagined, and yet your stomach dropped with disappointment.

“Are you coming?” she asked, turning to look at you over her shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said, scrabbling to your feet.

You followed her on bare feet, past the tree, further into the shadows of the garden. It opened up farther, more expansive than you’d first thought. She seemed confident in the direction she’d chosen, striding through the darkness.

“Rick likes to think he’s sophisticated because he buys art but he has no eye. After all, he has one of Delia’s pieces around here somewhere,” she said.

“Delia?” you asked.

“Delia Deetz,” she said, pausing for a moment to let you catch up, “you really don’t know anything about me or my family.”

She seemed pleased by that. You offered her a small smile, feeling better about where this was going now. Any misstep had been passed over, leaving a warmth growing in your stomach.

“I’ll show it to you,” she said, reaching out to grasp your hand and tug you behind her.

She wound her way past one statue after another, growing further and further from the lights and sound of the party. The cool night air and the silence was appreciated, exactly what you’d been looking for when you’d slipped outside. Her hand was warm in yours, chasing away the chill that threatened to sink into your bones.

“Isn’t it just horrific?” she asked, coming to a stop in front of something you couldn’t conceptualise.

It was spiky and abstract and not like anything you’d ever willingly seek out to look at. You titled your head, trying to understand what you were looking at. Nose wrinkling, you shook your head, giving up on trying.

“I know art is subjective but I really don’t get this,” you said, “I wouldn’t pay money for it.”

A warm hand landed on your cheek, turning your head, chapped lips landing on yours. You gasped, startled, not sure if that was what she’d meant to do. She pressed closer, more insistent, teeth nipping at your lip until you kissed her back.

Her hands were gripping your cheeks while yours slid around her waist. She was so warm under your touch, so soft, so supple. The way she kissed you was like she was trying to possess you, to own you, and you were willing to give her what she wanted. You hadn’t expected this turn of events, your hope nothing but a pipe dream, or so you’d thought.

Her tongue was in your mouth, fingers digging in, rough and harsh and so perfect it made your head spin. You were making small noises, muffled by her mouth, almost begging her for more. It only made her kiss you harder. She tasted of cigarette smoke and sugar, dreams of something dark and dangerous at the edge of the moment.

She dragged you down to the grass, ignoring the damp collecting on the blades in the cold night. She straddled your body, knees either side of your hips, pressing in to keep you pinned underneath her. You whimpered when she trailed her lips over your skin, teeth scraping before sinking in at the junction of your shoulder and your neck. The noise you made was embarrassing in its wantonness. Her tongue soothed over it but you knew there would be a bruise there tomorrow. Or maybe later today. You’d lost track of time.

Her hands shoved under the skirt of the dress you’d been forced into, nails dragging over the vulnerable skin of your inner thigh. Your legs parted, falling open to give her more access. Her teeth were still making a home on your skin, lips trailing over whatever bare skin they could find. Sinking in at the soft skin over your heart, the flesh of one breast pushed up from the tight corset digging into your ribs. Her name was a gasp before it devolved into a filthy moan.

She shifted, fingers pressing at the throbbing between your legs. Your hips rose, meeting her touch, asking for more. Pushing your underwear to the side, you sighed at the feeling of her hand on you, no barriers in place, nothing but skin against your slick heat.

Pinned in the damp grass, skirt hiked up around your waist, beautiful woman on top of you, your night had significantly improved. Your fingers had found their way into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging on it as her fingers swept through your folds. Wetness gathered on her fingertip, she was rough on your clit. The high whine from the back of your throat only seemed to spur her on. Her teeth sunk in deeper, right over your heart, a soft growl coming from her.

When her fingers plunged into you, you cried out, arching up into her mouth. She wasn’t soft with you, no longer exploring as her fingers thrust into you. Your hips met her hand, a strangled noise coming from your lips when her palm ground against your clit. You were panting, the electricity in your bloodstream all consuming. You’d never felt more alive than you did, there in the grass, abstract statue looming over the shoulder of the woman with her mouth on your body and her fingers inside you. Clutching at her, you rode her hand as hard as you could.

When your orgasm hit, it rushed over you. Your inner muscles clenched around her fingers, almost strangling them while your fingers tightening in her hair until you were pulling on it. Your hips were pressing up into her, seeking out every drop of pleasure you could find. It had never felt this intense before, this good. You wanted more of it.

“Fuck,” she growled into the skin of your neck.

Her hand retracted from between your legs, glistening with your arousal in what little light there was. Her tongue dragged over her skin, cleaning herself up. It was the single hottest thing you’d ever seen, which was saying a lot given what you’d been doing only moments before. Her dark eyes watched you with every lap of her tongue. You felt boneless and fucked and so turned on. Whoever this woman was, whatever her damage was, you wanted more.

Her leg swung around and she sat beside your splayed body. Wiping her hand on her skirt, she stared up at the statue in front of her, menacing in the shadows.

“Sorry about that,” she said, “I’m sort of going through something.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” you replied, slowly sitting too.

She looked over at you, a smile flirting with her lips.

“I suppose you’re not.”

Her eyes dipped down and something on her face changed. Her hand reached over, hovering before it made contact with your skin.

“Sorry about that.”

You looked down, finding a stark bite mark on the skin of your breast. Your thumb wiped away a drop of blood from the wound.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, “it was kind of hot, actually.”

“You’re being surprisingly calm about this,” she said.

“A beautiful woman just ravished me in a garden. It’s the stuff dreams are made of,” you said with a small shrug and a smile.

She shook her head but didn’t disagree with you. The cool night air washed over you. You shivered. She shuffled closer, arm pressing to yours, her warmth seeping into you. You lent against her.

“So who is Delia?” you asked, staring at the statue.

“My step mother,” she replied.

“You don’t like her?” you asked.

“It’s complicated,” she said, “I don’t hate her. It’s just…”

“Complicated,” you said, nodding.

You sat in silence for a while longer. You wanted to reach out, to taste her, to know what she sounded like as she came. You thought she might not want that. She’d been so quick to put space between the two of you after your earth shattering orgasm. Even leaning on her, you weren’t sure she was completely comfortable with the casual touch.

“You are alive, right?” she asked after the silence had settled over you.

“What?” you laughed.

“Just tell if you’re actually alive or not,” she demanded turning to look at you.

“I’m not like a zombie or a ghost,” you said, still laughing.

The way she was looking at you had the laughter die on your lips. She was serious. Deadly so. You blinked. Her gaze was lingering, open and wide and vulnerable. Your heart clenched.

You grasped her hand, pressing it to your heart. Her palm moulded to the curve of your body as she pressed down. The sting of pain was worth it when her shoulders relaxed at the feeling of your heartbeat.

“See?” you murmured, “alive.”

She sat there, her hand on your chest, dark eyes watching as your chest expanded with every inhale. You let her, not sure what she was going through but letting yourself be there.

“Sorry,” she said, “sometimes it can get…”

“Get?” you prompted when you weren’t sure she was going to continue.

“Overwhelming,” she said, “that’s why I have a show. I can talk to ghosts.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to make of that, “cool.”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m crazy?” she asked.

You considered her for a moment.

“Nah. There’s enough out there we can’t explain that I’m not willing to dismiss anything yet,” you replied, “it’s not crazy to experience the world differently from me.”

Her hand tightened on your skin, the pain causing a hiss to fall from your lips. She looked down, flipping her palm to find your blood smeared over her skin. She brought it to her mouth, licking your blood away, holding eye contact with you.

A shot of pleasure went right between your thighs.

“You should probably go find your friend,” she said, ignoring how breathless you were.

“If she’s not still busy with Rick,” you said.

“She won’t be,” she said.

“She definitely won’t have had as good a time at this party as I have,” you said, smirking over at her.

“Come on.”

She stood, holding out a hand to you. You let her pull you to your feet, staggering into her body. Her fingertips were soft as they brushed over the apple of your cheek, lingering for a moment before putting more space between your bodies.

You followed her back to the party. The singing had only grown louder, the words slurred and indistinct, a wall of noise you weren’t interested in. You paused for a moment, scooping up the heels abandoned at the foot of the tree, Lydia lingering with you.

“I think I’ll return home now,” she said, almost absentmindedly, “Richard left candy when he picked up Astrid.”

“Pop on a horror movie and relax,” you said with a small laugh.

“Exactly.”

Looking at her, you could imagine she would be the exact kind of woman to relax to a good slasher movie. Something about her spoke to the darker side of things, the strange, the unusual. You liked it.

Your friend was in the doorway, staring out at the backyard, eyes searching. They alighted on you, relaxing before a look of surprise passed over her face. As you stepped into the circle of light spilling out of the house, her mouth fell open.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“You mean after you abandoned me?” you replied, “I made a friend.”

Her eyes dragged from you to Lydia, still at your side for reasons you hadn’t yet worked out. Your friend’s eyes widened and she seemed speechless. Not an easy feat, if you were being honest.

“Are you done? Can we go now?” you asked her.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” she said, still looking to Lydia.

“Great.” You turned to Lydia, “if you need to work through more shit, come find me.”

“I might just take you up on that,” she said, the corner of her lips curling up in a smile.

You reached out, brushing your fingertips over the apple of her cheek, a mirror image of the softness she’d shown you earlier. Her hand caught yours, pressing her lips to the centre of your palm before she let you go.

You grasped your friend’s elbow and steered her towards the front door. The house spat you onto a dark driveway, empty and long, the perfect setting for a horror movie ending to the night. After all, you’d sex. That was, like, horror movie 101.

“Did you seriously fuck Lydia Deetz?” your friend asked in a hiss of a whisper.

“Well…” you said, thinking over it.

“You know she’s a total con artist, right? She tells people she talks to ghosts,” she said, a judgemental edge to her tone.

“She told me,” you said.

“And you still fucked her?” she asked.

“Yeah, I did.” You jutted out your chin, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at her.

“Didn’t know you were into that freaky shit,” she said, eyes trailing down to the wound on your chest.

“Hey, I don’t judge you for sleeping with some slimy producer. Don’t judge me for what I get up to,” you said.

“Fine,” she said, “but you’re not really going to see her again, are you?”

“I hope I do,” you said.

And when the phone rang, you jumped at the chance to help her work through more of her shit.

[fandomnerd9602]

Lydia: I’d rather be dead

Y/N: well those of us among the living would miss you terribly

Lydia: oh?

Y/N: just seeing you always brings a smile to my face. And I hope to make you smile too.

Lydia: (blushes) shut up.

Lydia takes Y/N’s hand in hers…

[starchants]

THE WAYWARD HOME

beetlejuice verse x female!reader ; the deetz house.

word count — 555.

themes + warnings ; established relationship with lydia deetz, beej is here and is bestie coded, also reader can feel energies and see ghosts when she channels into her ability!

author’s note — i love lydia sm and i wanted to make a really small ramble about the beautiful house that the deetz found and took from barbara and adam after their passing plus how beej would react to lydia finding someone <3!

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

the moment that lydia had brought her home, she had felt a safe comforting presence in that seemingly interesting house that everyone was curious about. y/n had felt at home, alongside her girlfriend.

there was something, some form of energy that resided here, one that made her happy and the poor girl couldn’t figure out what that was. maybe it was the deranged artwork that was put outside in the front yard.

maybe it was the nice dark wooden tones mixed with the pretty wallpaper upon the walls that gave it a similar sense to a nice little funky shaped cottage. maybe it was the small yet sensible kitchen that had been redone and made more modern by lydia’s step mother who hadn’t fully destroyed the previous style of the home during a second remodel.

it seemed like a lot of memories were made in that kitchen even with the remodel and it made the young woman smile softly to herself as she stood there while lydia awkwardly explained the situation of changing up the kitchen. the energy that sounded throughout the kitchen made y/n perk up even more as she felt someone staring at her from the entryway of the kitchen. she knew that lydia and herself were the only ones in the house and perhaps it was one of the rumored ghosts that the town had spread around.

her (e/c) eyes scanned around the room until it lead her to the doorway where she saw a man dressed in a black and white striped suit grinning wildly at her and she knew it meant trouble. “oh dude, the green really doesn’t go with the outfit.” y/n remarked before she could stop herself and her girlfriend immediately stopped rambling about some appliance in the kitchen before turning to face the (h/c) haired woman.

“lydia, babes, how dare you break my heart like this?” the ghoulish man remarked as he placed two hands over his heart to make a jointed fist and collapsed onto the ground upon the sight of seeing his beloved lydia with someone else. “you are quite literally the most dramatic thing i’ve seen.” y/n quipped with a grin as she saw the green haired man look up at her with quirked brows and a smirk upon his face.

“you can see him?!” the raven haired woman nearly screeched as she looked between her ghostly bestfriend and her lover. “surprise i’ve seen ghosts and others since i was a child.” the other woman replied as she chuckled and helped the ghost, who was begging her with a look similar to puppy eyes, off of the ground and he was quick to pull her down with him. “oh babes can we keep her? please, oh please, oh pretty please.”

beetlejuice had glanced over at lydia whom was grinning and trying to stop herself from laughing about the situation. “hmmm i guess she’s alright to keep around.” lydia teased as her girlfriend gasped at the absurdly of her teasing words which was nearly drowned out by beetlejuice’s loud cackling as he grabbed lydia’s hand and pulled her down with them, leaving the three of them intertwined in a weird embrace upon the marble flooring, which was the sight that had greeted barbara and adam, a few moments later.

[littlelambscandyland]

Something New (1/2)

Yandere Beetlebabes x Little!Reader

Warnings- Yandere behavior, Implied kidnapping, Lydia and Beetlejuice are married, Implied forced relationship (them to reader), Angry Beetlejuice, Scared reader, Age regression (obvi)

Notes- I watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and decided I want both of them to both adopt and date me, so here's a story of yandere beetlebabes finding out reader regresses.

It was terrifying and you couldn't help but cry. The monster morphing and shifting into pure nightmares.

"Heyya, what's with all this show? You normally laugh at this stuff." Beetlejuice says as he snaps the beast out of existence.

Your mind was much too small to comprehend the lack of danger from your captor. The sobs racked your body and you shook trying to pull the covers over yourself.

"So what you're just gonna be a brat today? Is that it?" He asked, getting angry.

Your breathing increased and though your mind was small you wanted to prove it wasn't him that was the problem, or at least not him physically. In between the lumps of tears you reached your arms out to him. They didn't make it too far out of the blanket before you simply squeezed your hands hoping he received your message.

He seemed skeptical. Here you were sobbing into the pillow, and yet you were beckoning him closer. Hands making a grabbing motion at him. What the hell were you up to?

Beetlejuice however did oblige. Sitting on the bed he stares before laying down on his side. He's confused when you bury your face in his suit. You cling to him desperately and he isn't sure what to do.

Normally when you get upset you try to send him away. Of course it normally just leads to a punishment, so maybe you'd just finally learned your lesson? No that couldn't be it. You were too stubborn, too hard headed, to give in like this. You seemed so much more fragile than before.

"Hey uhh, sweetheart, you still in there?" He asks when he notices you've stopped crying.

His gravel voice rattles you for a moment. You'd slipped so quickly since the moment you woke to the horrific face. Your sense of danger is long gone as your younger mind feels safe with his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Answer me." Beetlejuice commands evenly, he wasn't liking any of this.

His only response was a mumble of vowels. A bunch of noises that made very little sense.

Your finger traces one of the lines on his suit. Your mind is practically empty and you start to hum to yourself. All you truly knew was how comfortable you felt.

Suddenly he's gone. You shoot up in your bed and look around frantically. Sharp breaths come from your lungs and suddenly your tears are back, but so is he.

Beetlejuice looks at you with confusion and anger before he blows up. He paces around the room and yells. He jumps and he squats in front of you. He looks like a football player the position he ends in.

You simply watch with tears streaming down your face. You try to apologize for upsetting him. Your mind recognizes his distress and wants to help him help you, but the mumbles do little to get your point across. Even if you weren't all aware what point it was.

Once again he poofs out. The exit leaves you on edge. The loneliness creeps in on you quickly.

Within a few minutes Lydia enters the room. She notices you shaking under the covers, and despite Beetlejuice's story she wonders if he didn't do more to you.

Her hand comes down onto your shoulder slowly. She rubs soft circles with her fingers. From what Beetlejuice claims, you're having a hard day. As ready as she was to tame your anger she didn't want to start a fight.

"What happened, love?" She asks you calmly.

You didn't crawl out from the blankets. Instead you keep the warmth and sob at her from beneath them.

"Honey, I can't understand you." She says furrowing her brows. "I'm going to take off the blanket, alright?"

Your teary eyes meet her concerned ones, and she wonders what was going on with you. You had your moments and she understood that. Her and Beetlejuice uprooted your life and forced you into their world and their marriage. With all that, however, you'd never acted like this before.

You let her move you up, and the second she did you latched onto her like she was your life force. Your jumbled speech made no sense, then again when she thought about it... You were kind of acting like a young child.

"Beetlejuice!" She called out to him. The noise making you flinch slightly, burying yourself deeper into her arms.

"Yup." He responds appearing immediately.

"Where's the phone?" Lydia asks.

"Right here." He presents it proudly to her. "Ya find out what's wrong with 'er?" He questions back.

She doesn't answer him for a moment till her eyes light up and she hands the phone back to him on a new screen.

"What the hell does this mean?" He questions her again.

She looks at him incredulously before turning her attention to you who has taken to chewing on her shirts button.

"Baby," She cooes. Your eyes brighten slightly. "Hold up your fingers." You obey. "Can you hold up how many years old you are?" She asks.

It takes you a minute. Trying to capture the concepts of numbers, counting the amount. Finally you hold a few fingers, truly you had no idea if that was true but it felt like the right amount to you.

Lydia smiles. "Age regression."

"Yup, that's what the phone says." Beetlejuice agrees.

She rolls her eyes at him. She moves you away from her chest and bounces you a bit in her lap.

"That's what's going on with you, hmm? You are just too little to do much else." She leaves a kiss on your nose when you shy away.

"Hmm," Beetlejuice hums. "So what I'm hearing is I get the chance to be a real daddy!" He exclaims excitedly.

Lydia simply nods at his response and makes room on the bed for him to sit.

"Guess I should apologize for gettin all angry huh pumpkin?" He asks you with a pout.

Lydia allows him to take you from her arms. The lovestruck look never leaving her eyes.

Beetlejuice bows his head dramatically before saying, "I hope you can forgive me for my, uhhh, indiscretions."

The action causes you to giggle a bit as you don't quite understand what he's doing but the face he made was funny

Lydia smiles a bit. "I don't think she has a single clue what you're trying to do.'

He swaps his head between the two of you quickly. "Well damn."

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing

AN: Happy 53rd birthday Winona Ryder!

I glanced over at Lydia as she looked out the window. A small pile of things were already on the front lawn. She sighed before turning back to the model.

"Are you sure you want to get rid of it?" I asked, setting down the chair that had been in the corner of the room. Lydia looked over at me.

"I don't want to but I think it's time." She sighed. "Adam spent so much time on it. It's a time capsule at this point. But HE keeps coming and invading it. Hard to hold onto the good memories when that thing keeps popping out." I walked over and wrapped my arms around her.

"But surely there's more good than bad with it?" I said, leaning my head against hers. "I mean didn't Adam and Barbra mean a lot to you? This is one of the last things that you have from them."

"You're right." Lydia sighed, turning her head to look at me. "You're right." She kissed me softly before pulling away. "I just need to figure out how to keep him out." She picked up the book on the windowsill. "When we fly back to Los Angeles I'll read this. Figure something out." I nodded before picking the chair up again. I took it outside and added it to the pile.

"Anything else going down?" I called as I climbed up to the attic.

"No." Lydia called back. "But if we're staying here the next couple of days, we might as well decorate."

"Huh?" I said, pausing when I saw her pulling boxes out of the corner.

"Halloween decorations." She said with a smile. "Relax. Not Delia's. Adam and Barbra. Sure they're old and cheesy but..." She shrugged, looking through the box.

"That should be fun." I agreed, walking over and pulling out a string of bats. "And with the way Delia designed the house, it should be easy to do all this ourselves. Haven't done that in a while." Lydia nodded with a smile.

"Too bad Astrid couldn't be here to help." Lydia sighed. "I think she'd enjoy it." I snorted.

"Enjoy it? After what happened last time she was in this house?" I laughed. "Don't get me wrong, I know there's a lot of good memories here but how the fuck can you come back here year after year to maintain it and clean it out? After everything that happened to you here?" Lydia paused, holding a ghost close to her chest.

"Like you said, a lot of good memories." She said. "Adam and Barbra. Dad and Delia. Believe it or not, there's memories with Astrid here." Lydia looked around as I climbed onto the windowsill to hang the bats to the roof. She watched me with a careful eye. "He was a small part of it. Scared me for life sure. But I'll never forget watching Adam work on the model. Or Barbra trying to wallpaper the attic." Lydia laughed. "Or Delia arguing with thin air about colors to paint the living room." I turned to look at her as I climbed down. "I always had to intervene to let her know what Barbra was saying. The look on her face when she realized they were looking at the same paint swatch was always funny." She shrugged.

"Sounds like a fun place to grow up." I said, reaching into the box to see what else was there. Lydia nodded.

"It was." She said. "Let's put this stuff up." I nodded and picked up the box, carrying it down to the main floor of the house. "And maybe I can find a way to contact Delia and Dad. Who knows. It would be nice to spend Halloween with them again." I put the box down on a table and hugged Lydia when she had done the same.

"That would be nice." I said, brushing some hair off her face. "I'd love to meet them." Lydia kissed me softly.

"They'll love you." She assured me. Pulling away, she started to dig through the box to start decorating with a smile.

[spookie-bitch]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Information station *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Requests are open! Asks and requests are prioritized the same; the older it is, the higher it is on my priority list.

Who I write for:

JENNA ORTEGA CHARACTERS: Jenna Ortega Wednesday EVA GREEN CHARACTERS: Eva Green Artemisia Miss peregrine CHARLIZE THERON CHARACTERS: Charlize Theron Lady Lesso Andy of Scythia Clea Strange DISNEY VILLAIN MULTIVERSE: Cruella (2021) Maleficent

If you wanna request something make sure they're open so you don't have to ask again. If requests are open and you need some ideas, you can use this Prompt List. It's obviously not required <3

Material list

If you have any questions feel free to ask :)

[sunshine17daisy]

MISCELLANEOUS MASTERLIST

Hello! My name is Sunshine and I am an asiring author. In this masterlist you can find all my works for this series linked under their respective characters. I write for the characters listed but I will make exceptions if requested. Thank you and happy reading!

KEVIN KHATCHADOURIAN

-coming soon!

JARETH THE GOBLIN KING (The Labyrinth)

-coming soon!

MORT RAINEY

-coming soon!

VICTOR VAN DORT

-coming soon!

TARRANT HIGHTOP/THE MAD HATTER

-coming soon!

EDWARD SCISSORHANDS

-coming soon!

LYDIA DEETZ

-coming soon!

WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

-coming soon!

MORTICIA ADDAMS

-coming soon!

JOEL MILLER (The Last Of Us show)

-coming soon!

ELLIE WILLIAMS (The Last Of Us show)

-coming soon!

GILBERT GRAPE

-coming soon!

ARNIE GRAPE

-coming soon!

JUDD BIRCH (Big Mouth)

-coming soon!

This masterlist along with my others will be updated any time a new fic is dropped or in the process of being worked on.

THE ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[gaylorvader]

Bro I know barely anything about these characters but this shit had me on the verge of tears bro. And I mean that as a compliment.

Something to Believe In

Pairing: Lydia Deetz x reader Word count: 2350 Warnings: Discussion of death, specifically a dead parent, the characters spend time in a cemetery, really I don’t think this goes any further than the show itself in terms of things I could warn about Summary: Lydia asks her S/O, the reader, to visit her mother’s grave with her.

——

When you saw your girlfriend, Lydia, walk into the classroom, you started grinning. Having a class with Lydia was always a highlight of the day. Any time with Lydia was a highlight, really. You’d been together for a long time, now, and you were falling harder every day.

When she got a little closer, you could see that she looked deep in thought and not happy. You filled with concern.

She had barely made it to her seat beside you when you asked, “Lydia? What’s wrong?”

Her expression softened and her mouth curved upwards as she sat down. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re here.”

You let yourself smile even though you were worried about her. “Okay, I’ll give you points for that. That was cute. But you look like something is bothering you.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she repeated. “I was just thinking. Wondering something.”

You leaned toward her. “What is it?”

“Would you maybe…want to visit my mom with me? I want her to…meet you.” Before you could answer, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. That’s stupid.”

“No.” You reached over and took her hand. “It’s not stupid at all. I would be honored.”

She looked up at you, and her eyes were suddenly filled with so much hope. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding. “When were you thinking?”

“After school today?” She looked nervous, like she was afraid you wouldn’t want to go so soon.

You nodded quickly, hoping to ease her tension. As far as you were concerned, sooner was better than later. “Sure.”

You thought for a second about how this might go if her mom were alive. You realized you would want to bring something with you, and that gave you an idea.

“Do you want to stop on the way and pick up some flowers?”

Her eyes seemed to shine, as if they were trying to thank you all on their own for the suggestion. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“Thank you. For wanting to share this with me.”

You had a little trouble focusing in your classes after that. You wanted to be a good student, but you also wanted the time to go faster.

Lunch helped some. You and Lydia sat together like you always did, and you had a normal conversation. Or, at least it was normal for the two of you, given that it included mentions of your friends who happened to be two ghosts and a demon. Having lunch with her and seeing that she was okay helped you feel better in your afternoon classes, but you still couldn’t totally focus.

Visiting someone’s grave, especially when it was the mother of your girlfriend, wasn’t necessarily an exciting event anyone would be eager to get to. But you knew this was huge for Lydia.

Finally, the end of the day came. You met Lydia at her locker and headed to the store down the street. You browsed the flower section until you came across a bouquet that Lydia said had a variety of her mom’s favorite flowers. You bought it, and then you were on your way to the cemetery.

Walking up to the archway felt a bit surreal. What you were doing really sunk in. You imagined what it must have been like for her at the funeral. You wondered how many times she’d been back here since then. It was getting close to a year ago, now. You tried to shove all your thoughts to the side, though. They definitely weren’t helpful.

As you approached the grave, Lydia wrapped her free hand around your arm. You felt her grip tighten the closer you got, then it relaxed when you stopped in front of her mom’s grave.

“Hey, Mom,” she said softly. She let go of your arm to step forward and place the bouquet at the base of the headstone. “I missed you a little more this week.”

You took a deep breath. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry. At least not right away. But it always broke your heart to think about Lydia and her mom.

“I brought someone to meet you.” She looked back at you and held out her hand.

You stepped up beside her, placing your hand in hers.

“Mom, this is Y/N,” she said and squeezed your hand, then looked at you again. “I’ve told her a lot about you. She would’ve been so excited to meet you… She would’ve loved you.”

“I’m sure I would’ve loved her.” You brushed your thumb along the back of Lydia’s hand. “I have no doubt she’s here with us right now. I’m sure she never misses a visit from you.”

“And I don’t think she would miss meeting you for anything.” Then she nodded, almost to herself. “It’s like I can feel her.”

After a long moment, you asked, “Would you tell me more about her?”

Lydia hesitated, but you could tell she was just thinking, deciding what she wanted to share with you. She sat down in the grass, and you followed suit.

“I told you about the haunted houses in the garage we’d do in the summer?” she asked.

“You did. It sounds like they were a lot of fun.”

“They really were… Maybe we could do one together this Halloween? It’s not the same as in the summer when no one’s expecting it, but…”

“No, doing it in the summer was your thing with your mom. I wouldn’t want to take that from you. Or from her.”

She smiled at you in appreciation. “Adam, Barbara, and Beetlejuice could help, too. We just might have to control BJ a little.”

You felt your heart swell, knowing she wanted to do this with you. “I would love to.”

She was quiet for another minute, thinking more.

“She always said that life is a game. That we can choose to make teammates or opponents, and opponents might fuel you more in the short-term but teammates will stay and help you when you need it most in the long-term. She said that every day, we take our turn and we do what we can with what we get. And sometimes…”

She trailed off, which concerned you. You thought that maybe you had asked her to talk about her mom and it was too hard to do in the moment. You turned your head to look at her, but she was smiling. That confused you but also comforted you.

“Sometimes?” you asked, urging her to continue.

“Sometimes we have to break the rules because we can make our own and ours will be better.”

You laughed, and so did she. “It sounds like she was really smart,” you said. “And really funny.”

“She was.” Lydia rested her arms on her knees and looked up at the sky. “And she never cared what anyone thought of her. She didn’t care that she was different than what everyone expected her to be. She was always just…her. I really loved that about her. I told her I wanted to be more like that. She told me that the secret is to learn to love yourself so much that your own opinion of yourself matters most to you. I’m not sure I could ever quite get there.”

You reached out and placed your hand on her knee. “You don’t have to get there overnight. It’s a process. And anyone who doesn’t like who you are or who you become isn’t someone you want in your life, anyway.”

Lydia gave you a gentle smile. “My mom said that, too.” Her hand moved to cover yours. “Everything felt lighter with her. Easier. Just breathing felt easier. It’s so hard just to breathe sometimes, now. But it gets better every day. And I know she’s watching over me. And I like to think that I might see her again one day, in the Netherworld.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said. “I’m sure she’ll look for you as much as you’ll look for her. You don’t give up, and I’m guessing you got that from her?”

“I definitely did. She never quit anything.”

“She sounds really amazing, Lyds,” you said. “She must be so proud of you. I bet she tells all her new ghost friends all about you.”

She smiled, but there was a sadness in it, this time. “I just wish you could have met her when she was alive. She would just adore you. She would see how happy you make me and she’d be so glad we found each other.”

A soft breeze blew, and you and Lydia locked eyes.

“Do you think that could be…” she started to ask but never finished.

“I think anything is possible.” You looked around even though you knew you wouldn’t see her mom anywhere.

The wind picked up slightly, just enough to give the impression that her mom had heard and was responding, if it was coming from her.

“I think this might be her way of telling you she hears you and she is proud of you. And happy for you.”

Lydia let out a sigh. “I just hope she knows that, even though I miss her every day, I am happy. I found the happiness she always wanted for me. I found you.”

You met her eyes again. You weren’t even sure what to say to that. Your heart felt overwhelmed.

“And I know I could be happy if we weren’t together. I know I can’t rely on someone else to make me feel happy or whole. I’m just so glad I have you – that we have each other. My mom made everything feel easier, but you do, too. I felt like I could breathe again when we met.”

You didn’t want to interrupt her, but you didn’t want her to think you weren’t really into what she was saying, either. So you brought your other hand up to her knees and watched as she absentmindedly enveloped your hands in hers.

“When my mom died, it was like a part of me died with her. Something was missing and I wasn���t sure I was ever going to be able to replace it. But you help me do that. And you don’t fill it for me. You help me learn how to make myself whole again. And I think that’s the most incredible thing. I just…really love you.” Her eyes searched yours for a split second. “And now that I’ve said that, I realize this probably wasn’t the best time to say that for the first time. But I love you and I want you to know that and I promise I’m not just saying it because I’m feeling vulnerable and emotional right now. I’ve been thinking it for a while.”

“No, I understand,” you said and gave her a warm smile. “I love you, too.”

You watched her smile reach her eyes. She did look happy. You felt like you could almost catch on fire the way her gaze was so intense on you. Because of you. For you.

She tugged on your hands lightly and leaned in for a kiss. It was gentle and slow, not too long, and you were convinced it really did feel like it was filled with love, if love had a tangible feeling.

When you broke apart, she buried her head in your shoulder, right at the base of your neck.

“Thank you for being here,” she whispered. “For being here with me.”

You leaned your head against hers. “Thank you for asking me. Thank you for letting me be a part of this.”

“I think you had to become a part of everything once you met BJ and he didn’t scare you off.”

You laughed lightly. “Maybe. But that first day you sat next to me in class and decided to say more than two words to me, it was game over. For me, at least.”

She laughed with you. “For me, too.” Then her laughter faded. “But it’s not game over, right? We’re just playing together, now?”

“Right,” you said and tightened your hold on her hands. “We’re teammates, now.”

“Oh!” She removed herself from your shoulder in sheer excitement and faced you. “So the next time we play Life, we can each start with two little people in our cars instead of one?” She looked so adorably excited you thought you might explode.

“I guess. But when have we ever played Life before?”

She shrugged. “Never. It just sounded kind of fun to start with a little you and a little me in a little car. Oh! We could play tonight! With Adam and Barbara and BJ! Adam and Barbara can start with two pieces, too. Beej will be so mad he’s the only single player and he can’t break the rules along with the rest of us.”

“You’re adorable,” you said.

“So, can we? Please?” She took your hands again, as if she needed to beg. She had you sold from the second she started talking about it, and you were pretty sure she knew it, too.

“It sounds like a fun night to me.”

She threw her arms around you, knocking you onto your back in the grass. You returned her hug, and you felt the light breeze start up, again.

Lydia held herself up above you and looked around. “Mom,” she said into the wind, almost under her breath. Her gaze dropped back down to you. “I think she likes us together.”

She stood up quickly, then helped you to your feet.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” she said. With one look at you, she corrected herself. “We’ll be back soon.”

“It was an honor to meet you, Mrs. Deetz,” you said. You felt a bit strange speaking to nothing, but at the same time, you knew it wasn’t nothing at all.

“Ready?” Lydia asked, taking your hand once more.

“Ready,” you replied.

Over her shoulder, Lydia said, “I love you, Mom.”

As you walked back towards the cemetery’s archway, the wind picked up and began to whistle. You and Lydia shared a knowing glance, then headed for her home.

——

Tag list: @mars-bars-stars, @reader-ships, @anxiousankylosaurus, @msmith74, @broadwaymusicaltrash, @you-thinks-wrong-romeo, @theatricalwriter, @be-more-heidi-hansen, @peachy-jolly, @g1ngersp1ce, @trumancheerleadermaui, @dancewyou, @spookabeth, @coral-cat-iris, @madameboxhead, @elaineygrace, @theolwebshooter, @anxiousankylosaurus, @ohsomightykeyboard

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[sleeplessdreamer14]

(Name): I have to find my darling husband, I’m so worried about him.

Lydia: Seriously, what do you see in that guy??

(Name): He makes me laugh.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Middle of the Night Conversations (Lydia Deetz x Reader)

Synopsis: After the wedding that wasn't, Lydia finds you in the kitchen, unable to sleep.

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Praise kink if you squint real hard, mentions of toxic relationships

“You’re awake.”

You glanced up from your cold mug of tea. Perched on a stool in the kitchen, you’d been staring down into the mug in the darkened house. Everything had gone quiet a few hours ago, but left to your own devices you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. So you’d gotten up to make yourself some chamomile tea, your mother’s voice echoing in your mind from your childhood. The trouble was, you’d lost yourself in thought before you’d had even a sip of the calming drink.

Lydia stepped through the shadows, into the moonlight streaming through the window. Your thundering heart calmed, the regular level of anxiety returning just from seeing her. Something about being in the original ghost house was making you jumpy, especially after everything that had already happened.

“So are you,” you said.

“I’m always awake in the middle of the night,” she said.

“I know.”

You shared a small smile with her, her night time habits intimate to you. You’d been her assistant for a while now, hired by Rory when he decided she was a big enough star to not be bogged down with the minutiae of human life. When you’d been hired, you’d expected something more in line with your previous jobs. Demanding and egotistical, and yet what you’d been met with was a woman who seemed as unsure about your presence as you were. Rory, at least, had managed to fulfil your expectations, at times seemingly forgetting you weren’t his assistant.

Over many long hours and middle of the night conversations, it had become clear that both of you were more alike than different, letting you settle more comfortably in as her assistant. A slow friendship was built over insomnia filled nights. She’d call you to talk, or she’d keep you in the studio late. Sharing take out on the floor of her living room had become one of your favourite things to do, usually because Rory would be off schmoozing in fancy restaurants while she was left alone. You were her go to when she couldn’t sleep.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” you asked, already rising to stool to put the kettle back on the stove. At the very least, you could do with actually drinking some of the tea yourself.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, unapologetically taking your stool.

“It’s quite literally my job,” you said.

You lit the stove and placed the kettle on the hob. Turning, you rested against the counter, leaning on it with your arms curled around your waist. She was looking down at her own hands, wringing together where they rested on the bench in front of her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.

It had been slow going, getting her to open up to you. Over many hours, you’d wandered towards one another on shaky legs, both unsure of what the other would do in the face of vulnerability. And while she had such a presence about her when the lights were on and the cameras were rolling, it was so different from the anxious woman you’d come to know behind the scenes. The one who spoke to people who weren’t there and at times seemed as if she’d be engulfed with a greif you couldn’t place. The woman who curled into herself and grew quiet, staring into space.

But once the floodgates had opened, they hadn’t closed. You always wondered if it was because you wanted to listen to her talk about ghosts without demanding for anything more from her. Just an enthusiastic ear who liked the stories for what they were. You thought she liked talking without anyone pushing in with their opinion or listening in with judgement.

“I didn’t realise what it would be like seeing him again,” she said, “I thought I’d moved past it.”

“The ghost?” you asked.

“I can still feel him.” She shivered, “I know he’s not actually here but it’s like he’s watching me.”

“He’s fixated on you,” you said.

She looked up at you with those wide eyes that had grown familiar over the many days and hours and months you’d spent with her. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. You’d seen her when it had all grown too much but this was something different. It was like she was haunted. Ironic, given her job, and yet…

“Maybe he is,” you said, “you saw him before he was here, didn’t you?”

You could still remember the fear on her face during the taping. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to see again.

“What will it take for him to leave me alone?” she asked.

“Dying?” you suggested, “moving on like the Maitlands did?”

“He’ll just follow me then too,” she groaned.

“Maybe all you can do is ignore him and live your life the way you want to,” you said, “who cares if he’s watching? There’s only one way to bring him here and you’re not about to do that again. So don’t give him this power over you.”

The way she was looking at you was like you were too naive to understand properly. It made your skin itch in ways that had grown familiar to you. Hugging yourself tighter, you tried not to fidget under her scrutiny.

The kettle began to whistle and you jumped, having forgotten you were in the middle of making her a cup of chamomile tea. You turned away from her, pouring the boiling water into a clean mug for her. Her fingers were cold where they brushed against yours as you passed her the mug. You drew back again, pushing up onto the counter you’d been leaning against, bare feet swinging, not wanting to think about that touch.

“I’m not saying it will be easy, but do you want to be beholden to him for the rest of your life?” you asked, pouring your own cup.

“I want him to leave me alone,” she said.

“We could summon him. Demand he get out of your life and your head,” you said.

“NO!”

You offered her a small smile over the rim of your mug. She stared back at you, eyes wide, almost wild, cheeks flushing.

“Alright, then if you won’t summon him, what can you do?” you asked.

It took a moment before her shoulders slumped. Her hands curled around the mug in front of her, as if seeking out warmth she couldn’t generate herself. Taking a sip of your own tea, you waited for her to say it.

“Ignore him,” she said, so tired.

“There ya go,” you said, keeping your voice gentle.

“I can feel his presence,” she said, looking up at you, “he’s still here.”

“And you’re going to…?” you prompted him.

“Ignore him,” she replied.

“Good girl.”

She took a long drink from her mug, not quite meeting your eye. You followed suit, looking away to look out the window on the moonlight drenched night. Sometimes, when you were talking to her in the middle of the night, words slipped out that you wouldn’t say in the light of day. The thoughts in your brain didn’t go through the usual filter before they made it to your mouth. This was one of those times.

“Why are you awake?” she asked, breaking the silence you’d caused.

“It’s been a weird few days,” you said, still staring out the window.

You hadn’t expected her to bring you with her when her father died. You knew she didn’t have many people around her, Rory the only one that had been propping her up as far as you could tell, but you weren’t part of her family. There hadn’t been a reason for you to be there. It made no sense.

But she’d asked and you couldn’t say no to her.

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” she said.

“I guess I’m just processing,” you said, looking back at her.

She was watching you, a carefully neutral expression on her face. You shrugged, taking another sip of tea, not feeling the need to say more than that. It was obvious enough what you’d be processing.

“Did you believe me?” she asked, her eyes skittering away from you.

“About what?” you asked, but you thought you knew.

“About the ghosts,” she said.

“Well, I didn’t think you were lying, and I didn’t think you were hallucinating, so yeah. I believed you,” you said, “if I hadn’t I would have told you straight to your face.”

“Would you?” she asked.

“Just because Rory didn’t that doesn’t mean everyone he hired is awful. I would have told you and then accepted whatever decision you made about my future as your assistant. I wasn’t trying to make money off you. I just wanted to help you,” you said, “if you hadn’t wanted me around I would have been sad but I would have moved on without my life being ruined. It was about what you wanted and what would make you most comfortable.”

“Why didn’t I see it in him?” she asked.

“He lied. You saw what you needed to see to survive. It happens,” you said.

She looked sharply at you before her shoulders relaxed when she saw you watching her with an open expression.

“There’s nothing wrong with you for believing it when someone told you they loved you. That’s being human,” you said.

“I should have noticed it,” she said, rather than agreeing with you.

“Did you even like him?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Did you like him? Did you respect him? If the answer is no, then his opinion isn’t worth anything,” you said, “Astrid’s opinion matters. Your opinion matters. His doesn’t.”

She stared at you a moment. You shifted on the counter, fingers tightening on your cooling mug, looking away into the shadows of the house. You might always want her attention on you, but any time you got it, there was always a sense of self consciousness from you. Like you were worried about her seeing too much.

“Your opinion matters too.”

Your eyes found hers again. There was such an intense expression on her face, fierce in a way you only saw occasionally, usually when she was fighting for Astrid. You’d seen it plenty over the last few days. This was the first time you’d found it directed in your direction.

“You don’t have to say that to spare my feelings,” you said.

“I’m not.” Her voice had hardened.

She stood, the stool screeching against the kitchen floor. You winced, a shiver going down your spine. Her bare feet were silent as she approached you but still, it was like a tremor went through the building as she drew closer.

“I’m not saying it to make you feel better about yourself. I’m saying it because it’s true,” she said, “your opinion matters to me.”

“Well, that’s just… that’s… thank you,” you said, not having the words for what it meant to you.

“Did you like him?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Rory.” The eye roll was implied.

“He disrespected you. Of course I didn’t like him,” you said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, shaking her head.

“He dressed you up like a knock off Elvira when it’s clear that’s not how you want to present yourself,” you said, eyes gliding over her body before meeting her eyes, “he made everything about himself. Just look at how he acted the entire time he was here. It was all about him, and not you or Astrid or Delia when it was your father who died. He was sleazy and self serving, and you can do so much better than him.”

“Can I?” You hated the undercurrent of vulnerability in her question.

“Lydia.” You reached out, grasping her hands in both of yours, bridging the gap she’d first breached, “if you wanted the world you could have it. Whatever else happens, please believe that.”

Her fingers tangled with yours, tightening as she stepped closer. The silk of her pyjamas brushed your bare knees, sending electricity over your skin. Your breath caught and any words you might have had left died on your lips.

“Sometimes it feels like you are the only one I feel like my old self around,” she said, a whispered confession that rocketed through your body.

She came closer, her body now pressed against your legs, hands holding yours, dark eyes searching your face for something you’d gladly give her if she’d only ask. You held your breath, waiting to see what she would do.

“You’d give me the world if I asked for it, wouldn’t you?” she asked, whisper soft and broken open, wonder painting every syllable.

“I would,” you breathed out.

Her gaze slid over your face before slipping down to your lips. Your tongue darted out, dragging over them, watching as her eyes followed it. Her own tongue followed suit, an unconscious mirroring as she focused on you. Your knees fell open and you tugged on her hands, pulling her closer until she was nestled between your thighs.

“Lydia,” you groaned, almost pained, feeling as if you’d ended up in a dream.

“I don’t need the world,” she said, her fingers untangling from yours before resting her palms against your legs, “you can keep the world.”

“Okay,” you said.

“But I do need you,” she said.

You didn’t have an answer for her. You didn’t know how you’d gotten from talking about the demon that had been haunting her since a teenager to this but you didn’t want to ruin it. It felt fragile, a moment made from spun glass that could shatter if you mishandled it even slightly.

“Oh,” you finally managed to get out.

“I need you,” she said, her grip on your thighs tightening, almost painfully.

“Okay,” you said.

“I need you,” she said again, head tipping forward until her forehead came to rest against your chest.

You were hesitant as you curled your arms around her. She pressed closer, hands sliding from your legs to your hips to wrap her arms around your waist. You lent forward, pressing your face to the top of her head.

“You have me,” you whispered.

She drew back just far enough to look up into your face. Your lips parted and her eyes slipped down to them. You fell forward, sure she would draw back, but not able to stop yourself. The first brush of lips was so soft, tentative, as if waiting to be pushed away and told off. She made a small noise, practically a whimper.

Your hands cupped her cheeks, kissing her again and again and again, each time just a little deeper. You were trying to be so careful but then her teeth nipped at your lower lip and you groaned into her mouth. Her hands were pushing up your shirt, bare skin on bare skin, making you haul her even closer.

“Sorry,” you said, panting, when you drew back, reminding yourself that you’d both just gone through something intense and she’d just lost her fiancee and her father and her step mother in the last three days, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t,” she said.

She pushed up onto her toes, kissing you again. There was nothing you could do but kiss her back. You were so utterly smitten with her you’d do anything she asked.

“Don’t apologise,” she demanded, her lips still brushing yours, “not for this.”

“Are you…” You gently pushed her back, still caught between your legs but giving you the space to think again, “what are we doing?”

“Something I’ve wanted for a while now,” she said, “do you not…?”

“Lydia, I’ve been half in love with you since the moment I began working for you,” you said, “but is now really the time? You’ve just lost so many people. You can’t be thinking clearly.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking,” she said, pushing away from you.

“Sorry,” you said again.

You pressed your knees together again, curling your arms around your waist, suddenly ice cold. You watched her pace the kitchen, that feeling of being in a dream shifting into a nightmare. You’d shattered the moment, shards of glass stuck in your skin.

“Do you think this is easy for me? That I go around doing this with everyone? That I trust people the way I trust you?” she asked, no, demanded, from you.

“Of course not,” you said, growing smaller.

“Then don’t tell me what I’m fucking thinking. I’m more me with you than I ever was with Rory. So don’t tell me I’m not thinking clearly right after telling me you have feelings for me,” she said.

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant,” she snapped, “you were the one just telling me to live my life the way I want to and that I can do better and have the world. I don’t want the world. What I want is you.”

“You have me. You’ll always have me,” you said.

“Then why are we arguing about this?” she asked.

“Maybe because I’m worried this is all because of everything you’ve just gone through and in a few weeks you’ll realise this isn’t what you want and I’ll be left heartbroken,” you said, “maybe getting something I’ve wanted for so long is scary because I’m not sure I’ll survive if it’s taken from me. Maybe I’m scared.”

That seemed to give her pause for thought. Freezing, she stared at you with wide eyes. Admitting it, spilling out your feelings for her to see, was also scary. To be vulnerable would never sit comfortably to you.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” she said.

“It’s not you I’m scared of. You’re wonderful. But if I let myself have this, I’m giving you the means to seriously hurt me and it worries me because this is coming out of nowhere from my perspective,” you said, looking down at the fingers twisting together in your lap.

“It’s not coming from nowhere,” she said, stepping towards you again, looking grim, “it’s easy to pretend something is one thing when it’s actually something else because you think you have that thing in someone else.”

“What?”

She sighed, stepping forward until she was brushing against your knees again. Her hands hovered over yours before they landed, skin against skin, cool fingers almost icy against your warmth. You shivered but flipped your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers again, looking at the sight of them wound together.

“I could pretend my feelings for you were platonic because I thought I was in love with Rory. But I wasn’t. Not really. He never made me feel the way you did. Why do you think you were the one I always spoke to when I couldn’t sleep?” she said, her grip on you tightening, “you’re the person I feel safest with.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to say, putting those words into the context of everything else that you’d experienced with her.

“You understand what I’m saying, right?” she asked.

“I think so,” you replied.

“After everything we’ve just been through, I can’t lose you too,” she said.

You tugged on her hands, drawing her closer until you could trap her between your thighs, pinning her in place. Something in her seemed to relax as your fingertips brushed over the apple of her cheek.

“You won’t,” you said, “but I can’t lose you either.”

“You’ll never lose me,” she said.

Her lips landed on yours again, sighing into your mouth as she sunk into you. Her arms were back around your waist and your fingers were under her chin, tilting it upwards to kiss her like she was something precious, soft and sweet and lingering. Proof you were going to stay, that she meant something to you, that this was the first moment of many more.

Sleep was overrated and Lydia Deetz was worth being awake in the middle of the night for. Especially when she was kissing you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. That you meant something to her. That you were more than just her assistant.

That you mattered to her.

[fandomnerd9602]

Lydia turns thru the book…

Lydia: there’s gotta be something in here about resurrecting you.

Y/N-Juice walks by…

Y/N: baby I have looked thru there a thousand times. There’s no passage about that.

Lydia: but I want to be with you

Y/N: gorgeous im not going anywhere.

Lydia; oh hey here’s a passage about a handbook for the resurrected.

Y/N: I’d never thought I’d say this - to the library!

[webbluvrsugar]

making out with Jeremy Frazier and he’s trying so hard for you to keep believing he’s a human

I imagine you’re in his room, this time sitting on his bed because the last time you were standing and he kissed you, you were both floating before he could even notice, and well, he doesn’t want to take that risk again, but he underestimated what his paranormal nature could do when he was with you.

One hand of his is holding you gently up your throat as he moans against your tongue while the other stops whatever object is coming in your direction to hit you right against the face, his eyes are closed but open from time to time to grab a piece of candy from your view, the moment that he grabs another thing, you notice it this time, slowly parting away and opening your eyes.

“What was that?” You ask, pink lipstick messy and now all over his lips.

“Nothing,” he whispers, leaning into you, two of his fingers push a few strands of hair behind your ear revealing the piece of candy in his hand and masking it as a simple magic trick. “Candy?”

You smile, a glint in your eyes as you take it from his hands and analysing it with your fingers, as if not even believing your very eyes. “Didn’t know you were a magician.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He smirks. It comes out as playful to you, specially because of the condescending tone he puts on, but he’s serious about it, and maybe you would’ve notice the truth behind his words if you weren’t so down bad.

“Impressive.” You tease, placing the sweet on his bedside table. “But I prefer some other kind of treat.”

He raises a brow at your behaviour, and before he can stop you, — mainly because he knows that one of you will end up flying off his window — you’re already pushing him down on the sheets, his head hits the fluff of the pillow as you straddle him, and really, he should stop you, but he’s addicted so he can’t, he can’t make a move to stop what you’re doing so he lets you.

He just hopes one of his records won’t hit you on your way.

[writingsfrombeyondthegrave]

Opposites Attract

Astrid Deetz x Fem!Reader

Summary- You had been a psychic ever since you were a child, but recently you had been overwhelmed by how many spirits were contacting you, giving you no time to yourself anymore. Seeking out Lydia Deetz, you go to her home for advice.

Requested by @perfectartisanwerewolf

Warnings- Ghosts, probably some timeline issues, morbid facts, talking about the afterlife, more of my ghost facts (Tell me when you're getting sick of them)

When you met the Deetz family, it was several years after the whole "Ghost House" incident. They had always been kind to you and your family.

The ghosts in Winter River were more plentiful than most people knew. It happened to be a very quiet and uneventful town, but your life never had a dull moment here. You were constantly sought out after Lydia had moved. Now the deceased flocked to you for guidance.

Apparently, they described your psychic abilities as "A shining light in the never-ending darkness". Which would be flattering if they hadn't always been around you for every second of your day. Some spirits followed you to the grocery store, to school, and even sat at your desk while you were sleeping, waiting for you to awaken.

You wanted to help them; you really did. It was just that the only privacy you got now a days was when you excused yourself to use the facilities.

Recently there had been a death in the Deetz family, so Lydia had returned to town with her daughter to attend the funeral and help her stepmother, Deelia. It was like a saving grace to have someone else help with the spirits around the place.

Walking up the giant hill to their home with a stack of books in your hand was proving difficult, but you needed Lydia's help desperately. You waited patiently after knocking on their door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Lydia welcomed you into their home with a smile. After making your way to the couch and placing your books on the table, you took a quick look around the room. There were still many of Deelia's sculptures, most of them unsettling to say the very least.

Your attention shifted back to Lydia as she sat across from you. Talking about ghosts with anyone else might have been awkward, but not with her. She was almost like a second mother to you.

Even now as you sat in the house, you could sense spirits lingering just outside your line of sight.

"I agree, it can be overwhelming, you just need to learn how to set boundaries with them." She explained simply and you nodded.

"I thought I did, but I guess I could try and be sterner with them?"

Her smile grew and you both turned as you heard footsteps descending the staircase. Astrid was in the middle of putting on her sweater to leave the house when she stopped and stared at you, as if in a trance. You smiled and offered her a small wave, trying to be polite.

Your smile awakened something in Astrid. Like a light at the end of a tunnel. A breath of fresh air, or a missing puzzle piece to finally complete a part of herself that had been missing for years. The world faded as all she could focus on was you. She snapped out of it with a cough, finally making her way to stand in the living room with you both.

Lydia introduced you and in turn introduced her daughter, Astrid. It took a moment for her to regain her composure before she muttered an almost completely quiet "Hi."

On the inside, her heart pounded against her chest, but she fought to remain uninterested in anything that involved her mother. Especially now that it seemed like a complete stranger could easily occupy her mother's attention without even trying. It was frustrating.

It was an odd experience, how you made her heart pound. She wasn't sure if it was from jealousy or something more, so she opted to ignore it and continue her journey out the door.

A frown grazed your lips, confused by her behavior before you shifted back to continue your conversation from before. Lydia spoke up first. "Astrid can't see ghosts like we can. The living ignore the strange and unusual."

That didn't seem to brighten up your mood even in the slightest.

"You're saying Mrs. bright eyes can also supposedly see ghosts? Great, here I thought she seemed normal. Is there anyone normal in this town?" Astrid scrunched her nose and picked at her food as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Whatever makes us more money, maybe she could be on your show Lydia!" Deelia smiled as she continued eating, only half paying attention to their conversation.

"Maybe you would be more interested if you talked to her about it, Astrid. It could be good for you to have some friends in this town." Lydia suggested, trying to stray away from yet another argument with her daughter.

"Ghosts are everywhere, you may even see one without even realizing it. Have you ever seen someone walking on the side of the street, but when you look back they're gone?" You smiled; your books open in front of you as you spoke enthusiastically to Astrid.

You sat in her room, a stark contrast from your own. While you liked the paranormal and macabre, her room seemed more... gloomy.

Did you know how much light you radiated? Or the shimmer that appeared in your gorgeous eyes whenever you spoke about this mumbo jumbo? Astrid didn't care for spirits or the paranormal. She believed it was all fake, but the way you spoke to her and the way you looked, she swore she would follow you anywhere.

She simply nodded, trying to snap out of that trance you put her in. Sometimes she believed you must've been a witch instead of a psychic, because how had you possibly gained so much power over her cold heart?

"Are there any here now? You know, ghosts?" her eyebrow raised curiously, just thinking of an excuse for you to speak more.

"I know there is one here, but I haven't been able to place it. It's a male energy."

"Do you use candles or sprinkle some paprika on stuff for rituals?"

Her enthusiasm was great, if not a bit misplaced and incorrect. Your smile widened as you laughed, a freeing sound.

"I've been talking forever, how about you tell me something you're interested in? I know you don't care about this stuff"

Astrid froze, fearing that you caught her. She cleared her throat and blushed softly, looking away as she wracked her brain for anything interesting to say. "Did you know that Mount Everest has a certain area called 'Rainbow Valley' because of all the multicolored jackets and climbing gear that's still attached to the mummified corpses of those who failed to get to the top and froze to death?"

Your head tilted and silence loomed between you both before she spoke again.

"A cult leader named Jim Jones poisoned 918 people by forcing them to drink Kool-Aid mixed with cyanide, chloral hydrate, valium and Phenergan. It was considered one of the largest intentional losses of life since 9/11." She continued talking, trying her best to fill the silence.

Your giggles made her stop digging a deeper hole for herself. You looked amused and not terrified in the least. "Why Kool-Aid?"

"Probably because it was the cheapest" Astrid smiled wide at you, happy that you didn't see her as some sort of creep.

The next morning, Astrid was determined to gain more information about spirits, wanting another chance to spend time with you. She even went as far as to ask her mother for help, which she would deny until the end of her days.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. It was actually nice to have a common interest. Or so Lydia thought at least. Meanwhile she was interested in you, and not in fact her mother's psychic abilities.

By the time you showed up at her house, she opened the door to you and smiled softly, gesturing for you to come inside. She soon regretted that action as if you would think she was a dork for gesturing like a ringleader in some cheesy circus movie.

You didn't seem to notice her inner turmoil, simply enjoying the fact that she invited you back, saying she had something to share with you.

Sitting on her bed with your legs crossed, you leaned your head in your hand as you gave her your full attention. Everything you did seemed to light a spark in her chest.

"I learned some stuff about ghosts and wanted to run it by you. Maybe I could add it in with my history facts" Astrid spoke with a little more enthusiasm, as if excited to share with you.

She took a deep breath as she tried remembering all of the things her mother had previously told her. "Is it true that there are different types of ghosts? And that they're not all humans?"

You nod your head and sit up a little straighter. "Yes. There are many different classifications of ghosts, including non-human ghosts that never had a soul. Those may include poltergeists, which are simply manifestations of negative energy in a certain space. Thats why you can't communicate intelligently with a poltergeist, because they have no soul or sense of being. They're just energy."

That actually caught her attention, maybe the paranormal wasn't as fake as she thought it was. How could someone possibly come up with a lie that detailed in such a short amount of time? She sat beside you and resisted the urge to kiss you right there and then. Never in her life has she been attracted to someone simply because of their interests and passion when speaking about them.

"Will you go uh... ghost hunting with me at Dracula's castle this summer? I was planning on going there alone after... after my dad passed away. But I'd like you there."

You smiled brightly and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. "I would love to"

Bonus:

Lydia stood a careful distance away from Astrid's bedroom door. She wanted to give her daughter some privacy, but she was overjoyed to see the smile return to Astrid's face. The one that had been lost since her father.

She argued that it was to see what about you made her so happy. As she leaned in closer, she heard a gruff voice behind her, making her jump.

"Thats our daughter alright" He spoke, munching on a bucket of popcorn. He leaned against the wall smugly, watching Lydia with a smirk.

Her smile vanished as she stared him down. "Beetl-" She began to utter before he waved his hand dismissively.

"Alright, alright. Your Kid" He huffed out an annoyed sigh before vanishing.

A/N- I finally finished writing this one and I hope that it's to your liking! I tried my best. Usually, I base the reader off of myself to make writing it easier but I tried to switch it up a bit this time.

Thank you all for your patience with me writing this, and I'm sorry for the delay.

Please send in more requests! Next I will be working on a lost boys fic and the second part to the tom riddle series

Credits-

Book Divider- @firefly-graphics

Green swirl divider- @anitalenia

---

Taglist: @mirage018

[leeeeeeeeech]

Lydia: So did you kiss them?

Beetlejuice: No, the moment wasn't right. Look, Y/n could be my future partner and I want our first kiss to be amazing.

Lydia: Aw Beej, that's so sweet. You chickened out like a little bitch.