TIM BURTON CHARACTERS X READER

death becomes you (not really) | toon! beetlejuice x sick! reader

warning ; sickness

summary ; you're down with a cold, and beetlejuice is, well... trying to help. whether his attempts are more cure or curse, only time will tell.

You felt like death.

Not the cool kind of death with the ominous fog and cool, haunted moors—the kind you'd expect Beetlejuice to show up with. No, this was the miserable, sickly, mucus-ridden kind of death, where all you wanted was a cozy blanket, a good potion of cold meds, and about three weeks of uninterrupted sleep.

The door creaked open, and the unmistakable smell of something both vaguely expired and weirdly... minty? filled the air. You cracked open an eye and found yourself face-to-face with Beetlejuice, grinning as he hovered over you with something resembling concern. Or mischief. It was hard to tell with him.

"Oh, what's this?" He crouched down, head tilted, putting his chin in his hands. "Somebody didn't tell me they were planning to kick the bucket today. I coulda thrown a party!"

You gave a weak smile, too tired to argue. "I'm not dying, Beej... just a cold."

He made a face, like the very idea was beneath him. "Cold? You mean you're alive and still managing to look this awful?" He winked, but his voice softened a little. "Poor sucker... Well, lucky for you, you know the Ghost with the Most!"

"Oh no..." you muttered, already dreading what he might have in mind.

Beetlejuice wasn't known for conventional cures, but before you could even attempt to protest, he snapped his fingers, and the room darkened for a split second before flickering back. When you opened your eyes, you saw he'd arranged a variety of bizarre items on your bedside table.

"Ta-da!" he sang, flourishing his hands. "The Beetlejuice Cure-All! Patent pending, results totally not guaranteed."

You squinted at the collection. There was a bottle of something swampy green that sloshed a little too thickly, a small stack of something that looked like the world's weirdest energy bars, and a bag of what you hoped were just dried herbs but had a suspicious, crunchy quality.

He held up the green bottle. "First things first: Beetlejuice's Cough-Be-Gone Concoction! One sip of this, and bam! Sickness, begone!"

"Beej..." you eyed the liquid. "What's in that?"

"Oh, you know... I dunno, let's say 'mystery slime' from the Neitherworld." He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Trust me, it's a secret recipe."

You narrowed your eyes. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed up, and even the faintest whiff of "mystery slime" was enough to make your stomach turn. "I am not doing this today," you muttered, sinking deeper into your blankets.

Beetlejuice's grin faltered just a bit, but he quickly bounced back, waving his hands theatrically. "Aw, c'mon, babe! Think of it as, I dunno, holistic medicine! Just one gulp of this beauty-"

You glared at him. "I'm already feeling nauseous. That thing is only gonna make it worse."

He pouted, clutching the bubbling concoction like it was some treasured elixir. "Sheesh, tough crowd. Well, I got other ways to cheer ya up." He snapped his fingers, and with a flash of green light, a parade of tiny skeletons appeared, each wearing a tiny top hat and doing an eerie little dance on the edge of your bed.

But you just groaned, pulling the blanket over your face. "Beetlejuice, I don't have the energy for your... whatever this is."

His shoulders slumped as the skeletons disappeared with a small poof. "Man, really tough audience tonight." He hesitated, scratching his head as he glanced at you huddled up in your blanket, looking smaller and way more miserable than he was used to seeing. He leaned down to your level, his usual smirk fading as he tilted his head to study you.

"Hey," he said softly, a note of actual worry slipping into his voice. "You really feeling that bad?"

Your eyes flicked to him, too tired to be annoyed anymore. "Yeah," you muttered.

For a moment, Beetlejuice just stared, almost uncertain of what to do. Then he carefully set down his bubbling "potion," took a deep breath, and plopped down next to you, close enough to feel his chilly presence.

"Well... alright then," he said with a small shrug, as though convincing himself. "I can dial it down a bit. You, uh, need anything? More blankets? I got a stash of 'em from the Neitherworld. They're kinda... dusty. But hey, adds to the charm, right?"

You managed a small smile despite yourself. "I think I'm good on dust, thanks."

He laughed softly, reaching over to pat your shoulder in a surprisingly gentle way. "Alright, alright. I'm here, y'know? Just... rest. I can keep the skeletons quiet for once."

It was a rare side of him, seeing him actually worried—and for once, it felt like you might just let him take care of you.