#i love how you asked for domestic hcs and instead i handed you angst

[fatuismooches]

Hello, so I didn’t see anything in you rules about like pregnancy/parenting so just sharing my brain rot, but feel free to delete this ask if it makes you uncomfortable!!

But, Smooches, as a little guy obsessed with genetics and science (planning on getting a degree in biology and other human sciences!!!ヽ(•̀ω•́ )ゝ✧ (my love for dottore has made me more and more of a deranged scientist…)) I’m just thinking about the Harbingers and how strong/dominant their genes might be…

We’ve only seen one of Childe’s siblings (Teucer) but I imagine in genes are STRONG cause his brother is almost the same as him 😭😭 Like you guys have a kid and they have the same blue eyes and ginger hair as Childe!

I also think it would be funny to have a kid with Dottore. I personally believe his genes are actually pretty recessive, but it’s funny to imagine having a kid with him and they look so similar to him everyone thinks it’s another one of his clones! It’s not until they get older or maybe call Dottore ‘father’ or something that it clicks in everyone’s mind that they’re not a clone!

Also, so many of the Fatui Harbingers have multi-colored hair (Arlecchino, Pantalone, Pierrio, Childe and Scaramouche all having a lighter or darker streak. I assume Columbina’s is dyed?) Just imagine their kid inheriting that!!

Oughh… i know all the harbingers would probably be terrible parents but I wanna be all domestic and lovey with them so bad 😭😭 [📺]

UGH YES THIS IS VERY CUTE,,, I TOO AM THINKING ABOUT THIS NOW! But yeah, I guess I never really thought about it but, you are right they look super alike 😭. (But honestly, I wouldn't be surprised when we meet the rest of Childe's family in Snezhnaya, they all look the same purely because that's what is easiest for HYV 😭)

Having a kid with Childe would be like having a mini him around and he absolutely adores it. It would be funny if you two kept trying to have a mini you, but instead all you got was mini Childes running around the place. 😭 AND DOTTORE 😭 I love that no one realizes it's his actual kid because 1. he's not going out of his way to explain the whole situation and 2. no one is questioning the existence of another blue-haired red-eye rascal. (Though when some people *cough those three particular annoying Harbingers* start to get too close to his kid, his irritation is noticeable.)

I imagine their kid does inherit the hairstreak, but in a different part of their hair 🥹 (Also, Pantalone's and Childe's hair streaks make me WDBAHDABWDW i love it sm. But then again the angst hcs of Pantalone getting the gray streak from using his Delusion make me🥲)

Okay but just hear me out on them being parents!! 😤 Well it's obvious Dottore is... Dottore. He struggles to even be a good husband sometimes, so being a parent is... territory none of us can fathom. But, you know I like to think at the very least, he'll remember how he was treated as a kid when he looks at his child,,, especially if his child looks similar to him. Honestly, he leaves a lot of the actual early parenting to you because well,,, he is Dottore, he does not know how to do these kinds of things, his hands are not meant to raise and love. A lot of the time you have to force him to, and well a lot of the time he spends with his kid is them sitting on his lap while he dumps a lot of scientific facts on his child (trying his best to avoid any unethical ones) Really,, he does love his kid, but the way he shows it well,, will need a lot of work (he has a lot of time to improve though because he'll expand the life span of them as well 😅)

Childe, most obviously, would be a very good father if you ask me. He is a family man, he's taken care of his siblings for a long time, he knows exactly what to do not just for his kid but for you too. Despite how his job may keep him away for periods of time, he spends every ounce of free time that he can give away with his kid!! Pantalone too I think would be good, a lot of it stems from how he struggled a lot as a child and he can never imagine his own child ever going through the same as him,, so i can see him as a pretty good parent :3

See, Pierro has the potential to be a very good parent, however, his job literally consumes all of his time,,, like of course he wants to spend time with his kid! He wants to tell them all about his old home and teach them the history and all! But the Fatui, the Celestia, all of it is far too important for him to spend extended amounts of time with his kid. 💔 And he refuses to let his kid mess up their sleep schedule to spend them with him at ungodly hours of the night... 😭 Capitano, another one who has potential! Unfortunately, as much as you taught him how to be more human and how to love, dealing with a kid is a whole other situation that he has no clue how to navigate,, by all means, he wants to learn, he wants to be a good dad, but it's,, a lot for him. Also scared of hurting his kid because of how tiny they are compared to him,, 😭 When the kid gets older though he starts to settle more in though!

Scaramouche, well, it's canon he's fond of kids! He'll be yelling and insulting everyone else but the minute his kid stumbles into his office all of a sudden he's calm! But with all of his trauma and other stuff going on, he doesn't become a better parent until he becomes Wanderer,, it's then when he really devotes more attention to raising his kid. Also is unconsciously overprotective of his kid because of how he lost the little boy centuries ago, so at least they'll never be in harm's way!

Arlecchino already has experience parenting, though she has work to do in like... the emotional and bonding section. Though she holds her children in the orphanage in a fond light, she still keeps them at arm's length because they are her soldiers... but she loves her kid very much!! Columbina is like, the fun parent, you're the one doing the discipline,, She is the one who loves to dress up your kid,, the one who probably lets them get away not eating their veggies 😭 But she is very very scary when she's mad so your kid knows not to get on her bad side!! Also good at putting the kid to sleep with her singing! Sandrone- well... kind of similar to Dottore. You and her child are the only two people she likes. But she also struggles a lot, and leaves a lot of parenting up to you,, though she and her robots keep a very watchful eye on the kid, she does not want them getting hurt with all the things around her lab! She ends up gaining more confidence when she finds out her kid likes to be in her lab during robot rides 🥹 Signora, I can also see being a pretty good parent! She just gives that vibe! I like to think she also has somewhat of a soft spot for kids! She loves taking care of her kid and watching them grow up :3

(Good luck with pursuing your degree btw! All of that sounds quite cool and I wish you all the best :3)

[shmowder]

When I say I've waited all my life for a Pathologic x reader writer to pop up... well maybe not all my life, but I never thought I'd see the day *and* I love your Minthara works too! Might I request some nsfw P2 Victor Kain x reader headcanons please?

Thank you so much <3 I can't believe one of my bg3 readers came here, especially a Minthara fan! My works of her are my pride and joy. I started this as smut hc, but my hand slipped, and now it's a full fic instead? I hope you like it, even if it's not fully the style you had in mind. Do tell me what you think about it.

Mea columba

[Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst, Comfort, Soft, Tender, unstable mentality, Service top, Coddling, Slight infantilisation kink, repressed feelings, lap sitting, possessiveness]

[P2 Victor x GN Reader]

"With every breath, your soul drains slowly away…"

You can't exactly pinpoint when it started.

Maybe it was you who made the first move after a drink or two behind closed curtains, his hardened eyes softening with each kiss you trailed up his collarbone.

Or was it him who proposed the idea over the dinner date he invited you to out of the blue, his hand resting atop your thigh, inching upwards with every word leaving his lips on why this would be a beneficial arrangement for the both of you.

Frankly, it doesn't matter how.

Ever since that first taste, you've rekindled a feeling inside Victor, which he thought was long gone.

A fire long snuffed out brought back to life with every breathy moan of his name you've graced his ears with.

From how delicately he handles this arrangement, easing you into it each time with a dinner invitation and the offer of sweets and wine, it's as if he's cautious of scaring you off.

Sitting next you on the large dinner table rather than on the opposite end, a clear display of his intimate intentions by blatantly disregarding etiquette.

Sometimes, he takes the initiative to cut your own food for you without you asking. Topping your glass, be it wine or water, before it's empty.

Was it merely a show of good faith or a deeper urge to prove his usefulness to you? Like handling a stray cat, he's aware there is nothing binding you to him or this place.

No concrete promise for you to warm his bed and drive away the suffocating loneliness each night.

He doesn't want to entertain the idea of you finding your solace in others' beside him, It stings.

Alas, it's still at the front of his mind, a factual possibility each time you're even a minute late to his invitation.

Staring at his empty plate, he doesn't need to glance up at the ticking clock by the wall. Time flows through him smoother than it slides between the turning metal gears. An acute awareness of every passing second, every minute reset, every hour before the church bells collide to make a single sound.

Each time the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes when he pulls the chair for you, slowly pushing it in after you sit down.

He enquires about your day, politely adding a comment of acknowledgement as you expose your soul to him.

It paints a different atmosphere, a more domestic one of two lovers, newly betrothed, seeking comfort in each other after a long day.

Rather than two people–almost strangers to add–having a casual affair.

What would've been a scandalous prospect for Victor's reputation in any other place, is, however, as mundane as the changing of the seasons in this town.

The people here are vastly more open-minded, at least the people that look up to the Kains tend to be. Some others, not so much, but they know to keep their opinions to themselves.

You're free to come and go to his wing of the crucible in broad daylight as much as you please.

“Please, do make yourself at home” is what he'd tell you each time, making an effort to greet you at the door and hang your coat for you.

Whatever thing he was busy with is immediately discarded in your presence. Whatever guest meeting he had planned is rearranged to accommodate you.

As if he'd throw everything away just for the chance to play house with you again, spending time together in the same room, be it while talking or staying comfortably silent, Victor doesn't mind either.

However, at the end of each one of those visits, you find yourself being coaxed into his bedroom.

He's really cunning when he needs to be. At times he makes it feel like it was your own idea, at others he openly states his desires, honeyed words flooding your brain, his lips against the underside of your wrist feel nothing short of electrifying.

You're suddenly aware of how little layers he wears, a single buttoned shirt. Contrasting to the style of the upper-class families in this town, Victor manages to achieve elegance solely through simplicity.

How sinful he looks with just the top buttons undone, exposing his bare flesh underneath. Peering down at you from above, eyes wordlessly begging you to follow him, his firm hold around your waist, ordering your body towards him.

How easily you fold each time.

After the long song and dance he prepares each day. The faux domestic fantasy you graciously indulge him in, such an innocent act sending arousal scorching through his veins.

Having you to himself all morning to look after in his own home, eating his own food, letting him provide for you without argument or fuss, allowing him to coddle you in the safety of these four walls.

You're going to be the death of him.

Having you sit on his lap, all by yourself. Victor's breathing halted for a moment the first time you pulled that move, afraid that the air movement through his lungs could disturb you.

He's quick to let you sink back into his chest, one arm secured around you, hand pressed comfortably against your stomach, warming you up. Your head tucked into his neck, your whole being surrendered to him at that moment, entrusting him to hold you.

Part of him is ashamed of how quickly this act can lead to him giving into the growing excitement in his libido, feeling his cock hardening below your soft body, even the most subtle of squirming and swaying you make sends intense pleasure straight to his core, wearing his resolve thin.

Are you teasing him on purpose? Rubbing it into his face how much he gets off on you relying on him, on making yourself small in his lap. How cruel you can be, yet he always lets things slide when it comes to you.

his usually steady hands trembling as they hover over your hips, ghosting over your skin. As if you're a mirage that might fizzle out the second that he reaches towards you, illusory sand slipping through his fingers.

He stretches out this beautiful lie as much as he's allowed to, gradually getting you accustomed to spending more and more time with him, to leaving your responsibilities behind, trading the weight on your shoulders for the bite marks and hickeys he adorns you with.

You're slowly breaking him, taunting his depravity out from under the carpet.

And he takes it, all of that which you give him.

Swallows it whole, the sweet and bitter, the pleasure and pain. He takes and takes like you're the cure for his morose soul.

Admires your sprawled figure on the bed, vulnerable and raw. The reward he's granted after peeling each piece of your clothes off for you, like unravelling a work of art, he never lets you lift a finger.

It's borderline self-flagellation how much he stalls the main event, preferring to kiss up your fragile ankles, mouthing at your calves, whispering tender words just under your knee, digging his teeth into your thighs with calculated pressure that never breaks the skin nor leaves a scratch behind.

What a beautiful sacrificial lamb you've allowed yourself to become, give your body up to him for a night.

Don't you know that it's a facade? His gentle manners are nothing short of a social lubricant, oil to ease the turning of people's cogs, and make their spindles turn favourably towards his direction.

Make them think that their visions aligned with his all along, that they'd be serving themselves by serving him, serving the Kains.

Have them turn an illusion into a reality from the sheer power of belief alone.

But you already know all of that, don't you?

Felt the sharp claws from underneath the clasped hands hidden behind his back, glimpsed the predatory gaze behind the gloss of his eyes, the authority rooted in every polite please and thank you he threw around.

Yet you offer yourself up all the same, indulge his lies, and birth them into half-truths.

Make him dig into his own flesh, test his endurance and devotion time after time. Obedient to please you no matter the cost.

He especially enjoys it when he's on top, when you're pliant beneath him on the soft bed.

Finally, his mouth makes its way between your spread thighs, running his tongue over your heat, losing himself in your taste. Swallowing down all that you have to offer, licking and sucking your sensitive parts while his eyes stay focused on your expression, noticing every twitch of your lips, figuring out what you're the most sensitive to before abusing that until you have no option but to finish down his throat.

Victor continues afterwards, delicately this time to not over-exert you, taking full responsibility for cleaning up the mess you've made.

You don't have to worry about a single thing. Even if you ruin his sheets over and over again, he'll take care of it all.

Here, hug his hand to your chest, hold it with both of your arms, and know that you're safe and secure. Dig your fingers into his flesh if he ever goes overboard or the pleasure is too much, he will notice, he always notices.

Would you prefer his mouth on your chest, too? You don't have to speak. He can guess what's going on in your precious brain.

His tongue is soft against your nipples, barely tugging at them as he takes them into his mouth. Victor drinks in your expression, serene satisfaction washing over him, fueling the desire growing inside his chest, squeezing his heart deliciously tight with every whimper you sound out.

Treating you like you're made out of glass, obsidian to be more precise. Sharp enough to cut through his skin like paper, yet fragile enough to shatter from being turned around too fast.

Only someone like him knows how to handle something as precious as you.

Only someone like him has both the mental strength and self-restraint required to never falter, to walk the precise thin line of right and wrong.

Tethering on the edges of your reality, just shy away from bringing your sky falling down, yet never quite pulling you falling off of that cliff alongside him.

He won't.

He refuses to.

He can't lose you too. He can't lose his little dove.

His family may never touch you. His brother's preaching may never reach you, and his legacy may never hurt you.

And he may never have you, for if he does, he fears your wings being plucked off.

How many feathers were stolen for Icarus to fashion his waxy wings with? How many birds left with wings broken just to sate his curiosity?

How many precious doves paid for the price of humanity's pride. Robbed out of their innocence so his may never die, so humanity may someday finally fly and soar through the sky.

Victor disagrees, you don't belong to humanity, you belong to him.

He holds you with the knowledge that you will not escape death, with the acute awareness of your finite life, that your soul will never be reborn.

That when you're gone, you're gone indefinitely.

He worships you like a dying man praying to a merciless, cold-eyed god.

You're already leaking again just from him mouthing against your chest, listening to the beating of your heart as his tongue flicks against your nipples. Memorising the sweet taste of your skin, etching the sounds you make into his soul, hoping he'll still recall them when he is anew.

How could immortality taste so cruel?

You're breathless by the time he lets go, eyes glossy and lips parted as you look at him. The flush on his face reaches his ears, pupils dilated, although his expression barely scratches the surface of the emotional turmoil he's going through.

At least he thinks his face looks the same as it always does, unaware of the softness erasing the clenching of his jaw, dissipating the tightness in his eyebrows, easing the wrinkles on his forehead.

You lean in and watch his eyes immediately glance at your lips, eyelashes fluttering shut as you press your mouth against his. Victor melts into you without any objection, doesn't pretend for a second that this simple kiss is anything less than cathartic to experience.

Doesn't pull away until you do, even when his air runs out and lungs burn in protest, he lets you drag him along to the edge of suffocation before granting him mercy and allowing him to breathe.

A part of him is aware of how little he'd resist if you never allowed him to take another breath ever again, how this kiss of death would spell his doom if you wished it to be.

Eventually, after he had his fill, completely overindulging in the taste of your body to his heart's content, does he move on to the main event.

Sitting with his back against the bed headboard, he coaxed you into his lap. His leaking cock twitching as your body rests on top of it, you're fully facing him as his fingers work you open.

Soft in texture with a clear past of being calloused–courtesy of being a clocksmith no doubt–his fingertips drag against the silky walls of your insides. Getting you used to the feeling of his own fingers inside you, encouraging your insides to remember the shape and texture of his hand.

Experimentally pressing against every rough patch of skin he feels inside, studying your reaction as he searches and buries his fingers deep down to the knuckles.

Having you squirm and grind yourself down onto his cock, caging it tightly between your weight and his own lap, making it harder for him to remain collected the more and more his mask of civility slips down.

Your lovely voice calling his name, drenched in lust and sin, making his head spin. Tugging at his arm, urging him to hurry up and swap his fingers for his cock, asking him to completely bury himself inside you, to give you what you want.

Crossing the point of no return, Victor's words are stuck to his throat, tongue numb in his mouth as he merely nods along to your request, a quiet word of agreement forced out afterwards.

He starts slowly, never one to rush into things, he keeps his pace and whatever remains of his dignity as he rubs the head of his cock alongside your entrance, circling your hole and smearing pre-cum against it.

Easing it inside, carefully watching your reaction for any signs of discomfort. Pulling out a little bit each time you attempt to suppress any sign of pain no matter how trivial or small. He can wait. He will wait for all of eternity if he has to.

The drawn-out process grants him the strength to collect himself, finding his voice again as he praises you for taking him inside so well, for never making a fuss and being such a good dove for him.

Look at yourself, how sweet you're being for him. What a lovely little thing you are to place yourself on his lap and listen to what he tells you. You've been so patient, shown great self-control so far, and you're making him proud.

Just a little more, little dove, bear with him a little more and you'll get his cock soon. Hug him and tuck yourself against his body, he'll hide you from the world and everything dangerous outside. He'll protect and take care of you.

Halfway down his cock, you're wonderful. It's almost all in, look how full you're getting from having him inside of you. Do you feel full? Can you feel the wetness going down your thighs? That's your doing, all of it. Your own mess and his pre-cum mixing together and making you all wet, making your thighs sticky.

What a sweet thing you are. Look, you've taken it all inside.

Victor's palm presses against your lower navel, imagining the length of his cock inside, engulfed in your warm walls. You, the same person who was sitting next to him on the dinner table mere hours ago, letting him cut the food he made for you, allowing him to coddle and look after you just to end up being filled to the brim with his aching cock at the end of the day.

Can't you see how good of a husband he is? What a doting partner he makes? He mastered it into an art, loving you.

For a moment, he simply basks in the feeling of your body, the soothing pleasure akin to simmering water, evaporating into mist while barely making a sound. The pulsing of your insides clenching and releasing around him, body accommodating the foreign big object spreading it wide, confused whether to push it out or suck it deeper inside.

Murmurs of how heavenly you feel inside breath out against your skin, his steady hold on your hips starting to slowly sway you back and forth, inching his cock in and out of you at a snail's pace.

You're barely aware of the movement, only of the pleasure gradually building up, tightening the knot inside you before it snaps out of nowhere. Clinging to Victor's chest as the spasm of your insides makes your brain haywire, the intense orgasm contrasting the gentle lovemaking he's been putting you through.

He holds you through it, one hand wrapped around you buries you deeper into his chest, the other still moving your hips ever so agonisingly slow up and down. Lightly rocking his cock in and out of you. Not even taking it halfway out before pushing inside again.

You're tenderly fucked through your climax, simple touches become enough to set your whole body on fire, making you more and more sensitive to the most little of pleasures.

It's nothing and everything at the same time. Even the softest of water streams end up eroding the largest of boulders in its way with enough time. And the Kains have nothing if not all the time in the world.

As he builds up the pace, the passage of time slips your mind. With no one to keep track of it, it swirls and bends around itself, letting Victor mould it to his heart's content.

It feels like hours have gone past, and yet the lack of any numbness in your legs makes you doubt it's been more than a couple of minutes. So why does your brain feel like it's melting? You've forgone thinking and laid helpless against his chest.

He can do the thinking of two. You don't have to worry your head about a single thing.

Just like a glass-doll, he careful pace didn't falter, milking another orgasm out of you as the seconds ticked away. Painting his lap with your cum and wetness, sweaty skin sticking against his own.

How obedient you are, opening your mouth when his thumb traces your lips, taking it inside all by yourself and nursing against it. Sucking his finger while calculated eyes watch your every move, swirling his finger around your tongue, rubbing the roof of your mouth, making droll seep from the corners of your lips as you try to take more of his thumb inside. Victor mercifully does not let you gag on it by pulling it away the deeper you try to force it. No amount of whining changes his mind.

Raw, vulnerable, and sitting on his lap. Not a thought inside that pretty head of yours, what a lovely dove you make, what a pretty little bird that's practically begging him to eat you, flaunting your beautiful wings and soft feathers in front of the single predator who swore off the delicious taste of your flesh.

What a beautiful, brilliant mind, what a sensitive fragile heart, what a lovely soul that will only shine brighter with time. Immortality calls your name. It was designed specifically to preserve people like you.

But this time around, Victor will let his selfishness win. Stealing you from the future of mankind, they will understand. They must.

You are once in a century experience, and he will make sure it stays that way. His little dove can't stray too far from this gold gilded town. He will feed and coddle you. He'll bring you pleasure and give you purpose. He swears.

For the best way to ensure an animal stays locked inside a cage is to never let them know which way the bars are facing.

After what felt like an eternity, Victor's delayed gratification came crashing down. One thrust, then another, and he's spilling himself inside of you. Filling you up with his cum, feeling the sticky liquid being pulled down by gravity, forming a ring of white at the base of his cock as it trickles down in droplets.

He entertains the idea of keeping it inside, of putting you to bed like this. His cum trapped inside with his cock preventing any more from spilling out, maybe if he believes hard enough, a part of his soul will seep into your overnight as you warm his cock.

It's late into the night, 11:28pm to be precise. Even now, he still can tell without the help of a clock. Victor usually walks you back home exactly two hours and ten minutes before the current time. Your prolonged stay in his residence was noticed by the townsfolk without a single doubt.

Weighing the consequences of having you stay overnight and scaling it against the other factors, he makes up his mind in 45 seconds.

Your heartbeat is already slowing down, and your breathing is developing a rhythm as your eyes close down. You're drifting off to sleep against his chest.

He's careful as he lowers his body to lay down onto the bed, yours on top of him still. Already planning the schedule for tomorrow’s morning, how he'll help you shower and wash your body before drying you off. Breakfast should come afterwards, too, then he'll just have enough time to deal with the sheets before the town wakes up and his responsibilities start queuing in front of the door.

"So just keep your mouth shut, and don't let it slip out."

[mengyan]

Do you do headcanons?? If so can i get some domestic carulia headcanons 👀 like after carmen spends some time in argentina but then she misses jules so she goes back to england but jules is sad she left her so abruptly and isnt taking her shit so carmen moves near her and like has to re-win her over🥺🥺

anon, i absolutely do headcanons!! my brain is practically a dump for headcanons, you’ve come to the right place :D and if anyone ever wants me to write any just leave me a request in my inbox!

here is part one of my classic fic style headcanons based off of the prompt you’ve given (which is SO good by the way please i am so tempted to write it into a full fic and add to my mountain pile of drafts rn-):

carmen loves her mother, she really does. she’s sweet and kind and her family. it’s all she’s ever dreamed of. after carlotta sees her standing on her doorstep, her warm brown eyes freeze and then she gasps, launching forward and hugging her equally as shocked daughter.

“your eyes. my god, i would recognize them anywhere. [given name], is that you?”

“it’s carmen, actually,” she manages to say, her mother hugging her like it’s the end of the world. and her mother doesn’t question it, merely letting go and smiling at her with tear filled eyes.

“well, carmen, it’s nice to meet you.”

things aren’t perfect after that, of course. there are questions, so many of them that they stay up the entirety of the second night talking (not the first, carlotta insisted that she had to get some sleep). carlotta doesn’t seem fazed when she tells her about VILE and stealing from them, cries when she brings up her father, but they push through it because now they have each other.

it’s strange, then, the feeling she gets a month or so later. she’s lying on the couch after a few rounds of games with the orphanage kids, and she doesn’t feel... satisfied. she should, shouldn’t she? this is what she’s spent her life searching for. she left her team behind to focus on this, to give something to herself for once.

it’s maddening. she can’t figure it out, talking to player as she bounces a ball against the ceiling. her mom worries, asking her what’s wrong, but she can’t answer her because she doesn’t know.

another few weeks pass. she’s cleaning her tools, sorting through her red coat for some nostalgia. a slip of paper falls out, and written on it is the address to this house she’s living in, and-

“player- i never asked, and i’m not sure if you even know. who found the address?”

he hesitates. a beat, then— “your favourite ACME agent.”

oh. oh. jules. she hasn’t let herself think of her ever since she left them all behind, afraid of the memories of her brainwashed time being dredged up. julia probably hates her, and rightfully so.

but she’s buzzing. she feels like she’s onto something, like satisfaction is just out of her reach, and player is more than happy to check up on julia’s blog for her whereabouts. turns out she’s not in france but in england, visiting her mother, telling her blog audience that’s why she’ll be inactive for a while.

carmen laughs at the irony. player books her a flight.

fast forward and she’s halfway to julia’s mother’s place and in the middle of the sidewalk, she stops, suitcase rolling behind her. she probably shouldn’t be showing up randomly like this, no warning and dropping back into julia’s life when she doesn’t need it. julia’s had to have moved on by now, the girl in red just someone who was too afraid to meet up with her before she left.

“red, what’s up?” player asks her, staring at her unmoving icon on his screen. “you having second thoughts?”

“kind of, yeah,” she admits. “i’m just not sure if-”

there’s a tap on her shoulder. carmen turns around and feels her heart drop out of her chest.

julia argent stares back at her, arms crossed and looking exactly the same with her glasses and dressed in a casual tan coat, yellow sweater, and black jeans. she looked good, and, well, annoyed.

“hey, jules!” the greeting doesn’t come out as confident and suave as she hoped, but it suffices, and player speaks excitedly from his end. tell julia i said hi! he says, before cutting off.

“by the way, player says h—”

“ms. sandiego,” julia says stiffly, none of the playful flirting and easy tones that she’s gotten used to. “why are you here?”

“i thought you—” carmen stammers, reaching into her pocket and showing her the slip of paper. “you gave me this, and i wanted to thank you. also you know you can call me carmen.”

something in julia’s eyes softens at the sight of the paper, but then hardens again when she looks back at her. “you’re welcome. you didn’t have to come all this way to tell me, though. and calling you by a first name basis would imply that we’re friends, but it seems that we’re not, doesn’t it?”

carmen chokes a little, eyes widening. “we’re not- friends?”

“i would think a friend would at least say goodbye or get in contact with me any way before disappearing for months, so no, ms. sandiego, i don’t think we are.”

carmen’s first instinct is to feel offended, but she understands where the agent’s slight hostility towards her is coming from. this wasn’t just julia being petty, it was the consequences of her actions that she had to now make up for.

“jules, i’m sorry,” she says, going to grab her arm but drawing back at the last second. right. their subtle touches with each other were definitely off limits now. “we can talk about this in somewhere that’s not a public sidewalk, and i’ll explain everything, i promise.”

julia’s mouth twists into a frown, and she uncrosses her arms, one finger pushing up her glasses. she looks her square in the eye, her gaze cold and unflinching. “what is there to explain, exactly? how you left me- left us all so abruptly, and gave your closest family a note to remember you by? zack and ivy mentioned it to me- they’re being trained for ACME now, but i’m sure you knew that already.”

she didn’t. she hasn’t asked player for updates for a month. a heavy exhale escapes her, and she wishes she had player in her ear. julia lets out a humourless laugh at her lack of a response.

“i guess you found something better, ms. sandiego. i’m happy for you.”

the declaration is bitter- and with that, julia spins on her heel and walks away, heading to her mother’s house. carmen stands with her suitcase on the sidewalk, apologies on the tip of her tongue, wanting to chase after her. she swallows them down and drops onto the nearest bench, burying her face in her hands and tapping her earring so player can reconnect.

“red! how’d it go? what has julia been up to? is she-” player’s voice bursts through with questions, and carmen doesn’t say a word, a new mission in mind.

“do you know where julia is staying? not her mom’s place, i’m assuming.”

if player is surprised by the question, he doesn’t comment, and carmen can hear his keyboard clacking as he scans address books and properties. “she’s a couple blocks over, i’ll text you the address,” he says at last. carmen’s phone pings with the incoming text, but that’s not the actual thing she’s looking for.

“thanks, player. are there any houses up for sale near her street?”

“give me a second.” player pauses, scrolling through listings, and then continues. “there’s one like, diagonally across from her house, actually.”

“we have any funds left from our world saving?” she can tell player knows what she’s asking for now, from the telltale anxious drumming on his desk and the slower than usual clicking.

“a couple million, actually. i thought we were slowly distributing to-”

“i’ll make up for it, maybe nag some of the VILE stragglers and the remaining stolen artifacts and whatnot. can you set up a meeting with the house owner so we can wire the funds over?”

“this is a bad idea,” player cautions.

carmen grins. “and since when have i ever been known to have a good one?”

part two will be up as soon as i can get it written out! if you’re the anon that sent this, send me an ask about part two so i can answer it that way!

[horriblehs]

Remus and baby Maeve Hc’s (young!Remus Lupin x pregnant! reader)

WARNINGS: Fluff, this is prolly long, mentions of pregnancy’s and complications, angst.

FINDING OUT YOUR PREGNANT

At first you freakout, its the end of your 6th year at Hogwarts you just turned 16 and you're carrying the love of your life’s baby, how do you tell him?

Well you went to Lily and Marlene and both of them wanted to hex Remus to Monday, but they saw how distressed you are, you didn't know how to react, you didn't know how he would react either.

so you kept it from him

And then after a day you couldn't avoid him anymore. So you asked him to meet you in the room of requirement, it was set up as usual, a replica of the Gryffindor common room but more homey and with a bed. 

And you told him and he froze.

“we’ll do this together” he said as you started to cry.

MONTHS LEADING UP TO BIRTH

It was stressful for the both of you, judging eyes from professors and sniviless, who wouldn't stop bothering you about Remus and how he's a werewolf. Of course you already knew about his furry problem and you didn't mind. So when Snape said something about giving birth to his demon spawn, you punched him in the face. You weren't going to let him insult your baby and neither were James and Sirius who watched the whole thing unravel. They were both proud of you but they will still hex him. 

So the first time you went to an appointment with Remus they told the gender and you both heard the heartbeat. Remus cried tears of joy hearing his baby girls heart beat for the first time. 

The more you started to show the more you wore Remus’ sweaters. and the more remus used your tits as pillows. 

The first time you felt the baby kicked, you panicked, it was like a slight flutter and it made you feel weird. So you called Remus 

“Remus I-I think the babies kicking”

And then all the boys rushed over to you, taking turns feeling.

You and Remus were early to transfiguration, only a few students were there and Mcgnagall greeted you like normal, ask how you three were doing and all that jazz. Then, you started feeling a dull ache in your back, which was normal so you discarded it, And then it was in your abdomen. Class had just started so Remus already pulled out everything the two of you need. Another dull ache in your abdomen, you tried not to make any noises and just write down what McGonagall is teaching. Then it got worse and worse, Remus and Sirius were the first to see your discomfort.

“You alright love?” Sirius asked.

“My abdomen is killing me” you whisper.

“Black, L/N, I expect you to pay attention in my class”

“Sorry Professor Mcgnagall” You both said in unison and got back to work.

The pain got worse and you couldn't keep your discomfort quiet, as you winced.

then your water broke. and everyone heard it and slowly turned their heads to you.

“Professer, I-I think my water just broke”

“Are you sure” Remus and McGonagall say at the same time.

“Well I didn't just piss on the floor” you hiss in pain.

BIRTH

you gave birth in the hospital wing of Hogwarts.

The baby wasn't supposed to be here for another year.

You threatened to neuter your lover twice and cussed out everyone.

a lot of “YOU SUCK” “IM NEVER HAVING SEX AGAIN” “FUCK ALL OF YOU”

And a lot of screaming. 

You almost broke Remus’ hand

After about 10 hours in labour your beautiful baby girl Maeve was born.

Maeve Ayla Lupin. 1/19/78.

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

You both take shifts.You get her one night and he gets her the other night.

All of your dorm mates got used to not sleeping, and so did you.

James’ parents bought you guys a small fridge for the milk to go in, so you decided to transfigure another one and put it in Remus’ room and put one in yours.

“Y/N, Maeve just barfed milk on my back” Sirius whined.

“That means she likes you” James said.

“You barfing on uncle Padfoot’s back little wolf?” Remus grinned

Anyways everyone got used to having a non existent sleep schedule.

And you guys took Maeve to your classes in a stroller of course.

She looks so much like Remus, She has his eyes, his facial structure, but she has your hair and impatience.

“Stop being fussy little one” you say as you rock her to sleep, your enchanted quill writing down everything your astrology professor is saying. There are classes that Maeve doesn't go to, she instead goes with James to his class, sometimes even Sirius’ classes. She doesn't go to potions with you, or Divination.

Maeve is a total daddy’s girl, she loves her dad a lot especially when he sings and plays peek- a boo with her.

TODLER MAEVE 

Its been about almost three years since Maeve was born and you and Remus live mostly a domestic life.

as in running after Maeve because she decided to just not wear a diaper today.

“Maeve, baby I need you to stop running so I can slide your pants on” You pant

“No” She giggles.

No has been her word for a long time. It all started when Sirius said it repeatedly and then she said it repeatedly.

The boys cuss like sailors so they had to learn not to around Maeve.

“Daddy!” she squealed.

“Hi princess, I see we are going with no pants today”

“Yes” She says as she grabs his face.

“Your cousin Harry is coming over Mae so I need you to let mommy put pants on you please” He said.

“Okay” Maeve says.

After that Lily, James, and Sirius came over.

“UNCLE PADFOOT” Maeve runs up to him.

“How’s my favorite niece doing?” He asks as he picks her up.

“Im good” Maeve says as she plays with his hair.

“Look its uncle James and the baby” she points.

Then she greets both of them and stares at the baby for a while.

“Shhh he’s sleeping” She would tell everyone.

you would all eat dinner and laugh and then say your goodbyes, like always.

Then you would put Maeve to sleep, with the same song

“isn’t she lovely, isn't she wonderful” you sing as you stroke her hair.

“Night night mommy” she yawns

“Night baby sweet dreams” you kiss her forehead and close her bedroom door.

taglist: @randomoutsiders​ @ghosts-of-hogwarts​ @amixedwitch​ 

[toukenramblings]

Immortal Saniwa | Heshikiri Hasebe, Shokudaikiri Mitsutada, Yamatonokami Yasusada

Anon asked: may i have some hcs with hasebe, shoku, and yamatonokami with a technically-immortal saniwa who's cursed to life after a run in with an angry spirit? if they do the thing the spirit wants to, they'll die, but they've watched their family and friends die in front of them... so it's kinda up to them, now that they have a basically-immortal family of item spirits at their side. if this prompt is to depressing, feel free to skip it- no pressure :)

Nonnie, galaxy brain. I love you.

Warning: Mentions of death, sad sword bois, pretty short idk man im bad at this, nothing but angst, maybe hurt-comfort >:) @rexcaliburechoes​

Do allow me to set the stage, dear Saniwas.

Ah, pity thee, who is alive and alone for oh so long. Friends and family gone, aging and you never did. You held their hand as they passed, felt their pulses and hearts give out, watch as the light leaves their eyes and their spirits pass on.

How cruel it was for that spirit to curse you like this, know the pain of living on as the people you love pass. Tears gone, you had none left. Your heart almost hiding away.

Alone, and alone again. Why else did you sign up to become a saniwa. To isolate yourself away from the changing world, the mortal realm that only causes nothing but pain and sorrow. You were the first to sign up, you knew the citadel is a safe haven. Perhaps you could die this way? Throwing yourself into a fight that may seem endless? None of the less, you had a duty to do. a world to protect.

You didn’t want to make bonds, the government didn’t want you to. These are tools after all. But you are a kind soul and these men are just...wormed their damn way into your heart, unfreezing it, bringing it back to life, a garden growing in that once barren field.

And then that person showed up in your life.

Heshikiri Hasebe

He’s always had an inkling that you were...not normal. If you had gotten hurt, even if it was something minor, your wound would heal oh so rapidly. Of course, Hasebe would worry about your safety none the less but he cannot help but figure out that something is oh so terribly wrong with you. He won’t pry into your life but he will always tell you that if you want a shoulder to cry on, he is there.

Because it is because he is a tsukumogami and not human as well, he can pick up on the subtle..impurities around you. A curse. He could have Ishikirimaru purify it but it almost seems to hang around you, ingrained into your blood, weaving into your veins and tying itself to your soul. Somewhat similar to Nikkari’s aura but different all the same. They know that if they purify you, you’ll drop dead.

And then Hasebe’s feelings happen.

The fear he sees in your eyes when he confesses to you almost makes him want to shrivel away and die. He wants to take it back, run away and hide, but you almost do the same. You ask for time to think about this, and Hasebe will wait until the end of the world for you DAMN IT.

You two confess and of course you tell him about you being...pretty much immortal and Hasebe takes it surprisingly well. You are his master after all, he would say as he presses a kiss to the tip of your forehead. “It only means that we can stay together longer now, and I will forever be by your side.” it’s almost an oath at this point.

Every day you two have together is nothing short of bliss. Calm, comforting, drinking in every moment you two have. Hasebe has sworn not to die, to come back from missions and back to you. He will never perish, or let anyone else die when he is on a mission. He knows that you cannot handle such a thing, no damn way is he going to let it happen.

Oh sweet sweet Hasebe knows that he is a tool, and by the end of this long war that has span for far too long. He knows that by the end of this the government will be at your door, banging on the walls and demanding you to return the swords to the government where they belonged. He refuses to leave though. His home is at your side, come hell or high water. He will fight to the end of his breath to always be with you.

Hasebe will always be there if you want to talk, if you begin to cry, oh so gently will he wrap you up in his arms, shushing you and pressing sweetest of kisses to your head.

Those times when you have nightmares break his heart, he would rather face three thousand ootachis than to see you cry.

“I...do not know if you see it like this, beloved. But, I adore you, and as do the rest of the citadel. Please, if you allow us, will you allow us to be your new family?”

Shokudaikiri Mitsutada

Compared to Hasebe’s tiptoeing around the subject of your immortality, Micchan will kinda do the same? He will notice that you are so much more different and he knows that you are hiding something. He knows that feeling oh too well, look at himself and his scars and his eye. Gods know he is ashamed of those burns of his. He won’t push you to tell him anything and of course he will wait for you to come to him. Gods forgive anything that makes you push away from him. Of course he will give you treats, a bribe maybe? No, he just wants to let you know that he is there.

When you tell him that you are an immortal, Shokudaikiri’s first instinct is to hug you. He knows how it is to be oh so lonely and lost, seeing the lives of people disappear under the blink of an eye. The earthquake took many lives, and he knows that feeling of loneliness well. “I’m sorry.” he would whisper, a hand on your head. “I know how it feels to be lonely like that, but I am here for you, always.” was it a love confession? Perhaps. But he swears it right then and there, you will never feel lonely in this citadel ever again. Gods no, he won’t let it happen. He will rope everyone in the citadel into his shenanigans if he must.

When Micchan finds out about his feelings for you, he accepts it and waits for the right time to confess. When you return his feelings, Micchan is over the moon!!! Of course the relationship you two have is already pretty damn domestic so it’s not like anything changes much.

When you are ready to open up about your past, so will Micchan. He may take a lil bit longer because of his own issues of self worth but he is more than willing to support you all the way.

His first thought of you having a curse is for Ishikirimaru to do something about it, but since he worries that they would lose you, he won’t do it. Of course he will talk over it with you first.

With that vow of never having you feel lonely ever again, whenever he’s gone, he has someone look out for you. Be it a tantou or someone else you’re close to. 

Micchan also makes that vow to never let anyone else break while out on missions. If he has to take the brunt of attacks, damn right he will. Patch him up during this time, love, he’ll enjoy it.

Nightmares between you are a silent and almost sacred time. One of you will wake up with a scream, the other will jolt awake and hugs are soon passed between you two. Soft whispers, tears, tight embraces, and chatter of the past if you two are up for it. Micchan will hold you tight and comfort you as much as he possibly can.

Like Hasebe, Micchan knows that the end may be nigh for any of them. Be it death or taken away by the government. No way is he going to let any of this shit happen though.

“This is our family now,” he would say, while kissing your fingers. “It’s a little crazy and rowdy, but it is ours...do not forget that, love.”

Yamatonokami Yasusada

Oh Yams knows what death feels like, rusting away in the grass instead of being returned to Okita-kun’s family in the end. He knows what it’s like to see the world pass and people die, before joining them in the end. Even if he is you TouDan now, he still feels that phantom pain. So when he finds out that you’re practically immortal, Yams breathes out a heavy sigh of relief.

You won’t die from illness, bless everything in the world for that! You can be alive and don’t have to feel the pain of physically wasting away and cannot do anything about it. You cannot feel helpless as your mind slips, your eyes close, and everything shuts down. But instead the pain you feel is almost worse than what Yamatonokami felt. Yes he watched Okita-kun perish, right beside him, a slow and painful death. But you have seen it happen, over and over and over. At this point he cannot help but worry about you.

He won’t say much to alert you to this, but will always have his hand find yours and give it a soft squeeze and a gentle smile. Like Shoku and Hasebe, he will offer you a shoulder to cry on. He won’t push you of course, but will always be there for you. He’s much more verbal about it though, suddenly bringing you into a sweet hug and this sweet sweet smile.

He swore to not let anything happen to you like Okita, or worse. But when he catches damn feelings for you, oh no he panics. He begins to avoid you yes, just to sort things out. But when he confesses, it’s alone and sweet, with a bouquet of flowers and maybe with some sort of sentimental gift.

“I know it’s difficult being...immortal and all, but I never want you to feel the pain of death, physically at least. I want to be by your side for as long as I can! Will you...will you allow me to do so?”

Yams is much more outgoing than Hasebe and Shoku above, expect him and Kiyomitsu to be always around you, Kashuu because he wants your attention constantly, Yams because he’s your partner in love! Kashuu will get a weeeee bit jelly of how close you two are but as long as you two are happy, he is happy! Whenever Yams is gone, it’s always you and Kashuu to spend time together.

Yams considers everyone at the citadel his family anyway and will make sure to involve you more in their affairs. He wants you to be happy most of all!

Oh sweet sweet Yams’ nightmares are...almost soul rending. When he wakes up with a scream, he will almost claw at his skin to ensure that he isn’t rusting over, perishing into dust. He will be there if you have nightmares of the death of others and your past though, as said he never wants you to go through any sort of emotional turmoil from now on. He would rather rust away again than to let you cry like this.

The end of the fight scares Yams like no other. Like Kashuu, he does have some abandonment issues, since he was kinda left in a field to rot after all. So whenever he worries about this, he always takes your hand and promises that no matter what, he’ll be happy to spend his last days with you.

“I love you so so much! I...I don’t care what happens to us in the end, as long as I can be with you, I will be happy.”

[angelicspaceprince]

Angst/comfort Beetlejuice/reader? The latter wakes up from a nightmare to end all nightmares. (Bonus angst for it involving dying, brutally or otherwise)

I did both because I can also angstor at least an attempt at:

TW: Mentions of suicide, domesticviolence (sorta), murder (sorta), and just….look you both die in your dreamsand it fucks you up a little bit on the inside ok? I stepped away from my hc ofhow he died and did the more commonly accepted one with a mix of one that someoneI rp with brought up during one of our sessions because the PAIN GOT TO ME IHAD TO PUT IT IN HERE so then I wasn’t repeating myself throughout the hcs.

Reader:

It started pleasant enough

You were dreaming that Beej hadtaken you on an impromptu date to the Netherworld, something that was oddbecause he said he’d prefer to say on your side of the pond, but also notbecause he knew you were keen to check out his ‘home’

It had been interesting day sofar, everything was just so odd comparedto home

You loved it

Buildings didn’t make sense, thepeople were strange and peculiar and interesting

Even the sounds were just sounworldly, and just so different and fascinating

Beetlejuice had been leading youaround, giving you the grand tour as you hold onto his hand and just take ineverything

You had failed to realise the slowlydarkening tone of your dream

You had managed to wander to apart of the Netherworld that had a river that, instead of water, was runningwith thick, black, ink. Not quite goo or slime, but thicker than water

Beej was encouraging you to jump in,but you felt nervous. It didn’t feel right,you didn’t think you could swim in something like that

The more you suggested he gofirst, the more annoyed and angrier he became

You finally said, outright, thatyou weren’t going in, period. It was just too unsafe.

You didn’t see him move behindyou, but you felt his hand push you to the side of the river bank and then promptlyinto the water

You were right. It was impossibleto swim, to see, and the more time you spent in the river, the thicker the inkbecame

It filled your stomach, yourlungs, it soaked your clothes, weighing you down

The worst part is hearingBeetlejuice’s laughter throughout. This loud, high pitch cackle that filledyour ears and made your heart sink and stomach fill with dread, mixing in withthe now slime-y ink.

You called out for him to helpyou, save you and all you heard was his laughter

“You think I’m going to save you?I don’t even like you! I’ve beenwanting to do this for so long, watch a stupid little breather die. I’m justglad you were stupid enough to trust me.”

You held back tears and tried to keepyour head above water, only to feel something long, thin and slimy crawl upyour legs and promptly yank you down under the ink

You wake up with a gasp, handracing up to your throat as you take in a few heavy, deep breaths, sitting upas you reassess the situation

You’re alive.

A sudden, cool arm wrappingaround your waist makes you screech out in terror when you see the concerneddemon looking over at you, hair still a sleepy green with the beginning of a fewstreaks of white

You panic, still thinking he wasclose to killing you, so you rip yourself from him and crawl to the other sideof the bed, giving yourself some space to calm down.

‘Just a dream, just a dream, justa fucking dream.’ You repeat to yourself as you watch Beetlejuice’s hair gofrom sleepy green and concerned white, to slightly blue tinged with a concernedyellow

He sits up and moves to give yousome space, sitting up and watching you carefully. He’s speaking, but you can’thear his words, so you focus on your breathing. It’s ok, you’re alive, you’resafe, he wouldn’t actually hurt you. Would he?

“Babes? Cmon, talk to me, what’sgoing on, are you ok?” You finally hear him say. You shake your head.

“Bad dream.” Is all you offer,still a bit wary of the ghost with the most.

He hesitates. “Do you want totalk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Should you?”

“Probably.”

You take a breath before slowlymoving over to where you were laying before, tapping the space next to you toreinvite him back to where you were when you first woke up

“You murdered me.” Was all youoffer. “Through me in this river. I drowned. You said that…..” You wipe awaythe few tears you have with your hands as BJ carefully pulls you closer so hecan hold you close. “You said that you didn’t even like me.” You whisper thefinal part out

Beetlejuice squeezes you tighteras he just holds you in silence, tracing faint patterns on your skin as he letsyou re-centre.

“You know I love you, right babes?”He finally asks quietly. You hum and nod, moving to rest your head to his chest.“And I’d never do anything to hurt you without you asking first?” You nodagain.

“It was just a dream, Beej.”

“You were terrified when you woke up!”

“Yeah, but I’m better now.”

“You were terrified of me!”

You look up and can see the fearand the depression seeping through him. You sit up slowly and move to give hima kiss.

“I love you, Beej. I’m not scaredof you. I promise.” You swear against his lips. “I know you’d never hurt me,not like that, never like that.”

His hands grip at your hips asyou resettle, this time on top of him. “I know you’re here to protect me, Bug.”You murmur against his skin as you slowly begin to drift away

Beetlejuice didn’t sleep anotherwink, however. The self-doubt about if he could be good for you drifting intohis mind again, keeping him awake as he just holds you close and treasuresthese quiet moments as his brain slowly starts to convince him that, perhaps itwould be better for you if the two of you weren’t together anymore.

HenevergetsthechancetodumpyouthobcyouarenothavinganyofthatBugshutupandletthemloveyou

Beetlejuice:

Contrary to popular belief, Beetlejuicedoes dream

He has to be drunk off his ass orhigh off his tits in order for it to happen, but it does happen

It’s rare that he has gooddreams, however. Most of his life has been plagued with just generalshittiness, and when he’s asleep, the guards he’s put up fail and the memoriescome flooding back

This particular time, the both ofyou had gotten way too drunk and had crashed together onto your bed, him layingon top of you as you sprawl out beneath him

It didn’t take long for thedreams to start

He was back to the day he died

He was hurting, but the reasonwhy he was hurting had changed

He had found you dead, knifethrough your heart with a note attached

‘I can’t do it anymore Lawrence. You’re just too much, too damaged, youhurt me every day that I see you. I’m sorry, I wish I could have loved you.’Was all of the note he could make out.

You didn’t love him? I mean, how couldyou? He was a damaged man, an alcoholic and drug addict with a temper

He’d never hurt you, but theamount of shouting matches the two of you have had were always loud, destructive,awful

They only ever happened when hehad partaken of the gin or coke, unfortunately in this life those were the onlytwo things that kept him going

But because of them, he lost you

He didn’t realise he was cryingor pulling at his then brown hair until he noticed that the note was gettingwetter in his hands, already soaked with blood that was hiding parts of themessage

He killed you

He destroyed you

He was nothing but a murderer

Everything else was on automatic

He’d been planning this formonths, the only thing keeping him from going through with it was you

But now there was nothing holdinghim back. He was drunk, high, depressed and alone

Tying the noose was the hardest partof it all but after that, it was just like clockwork

It should have been automatic,but he fucked it up

His neck didn’t snap, he was leftdangling as he slowly felt his airway close, kicking and screaming and shoutingthe entire time

“Beej?”

No one came to help him, no oneever did but you

“BJ, love, are you ok?”

He had full view of your deadbody as he slowly felt himself suffocate, vision going spotty.

“Beetlejuice?”

Slowly his eyes closed as heaccepted that he was a failure at everything.

“Beetlejuice!”

Even his own death.

“Goddamnit Beetlejuice wake up!”

He woke up with a start, hands graspingtightly onto your shirt that his knuckles are bright white, matching his haircolour as he breathes heavily into your chest

You have your arms wrapped aroundhim, and don’t comment on the fact that your chest is wet from him crying inhis sleep. You woke up to hear him calling your name and crying, when you triedto wake him, he just clinged to your body and apologised over and over and over

Finally, he sniffles a little bitand the tears stop. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You kiss the top of hishead, the white slowly turning into a faint green colour as he relaxes when herealises it was just a dream. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“No.”

You hum, clearly disagreeing butrefuse to push the matter so you just hold him close and let him take what heneeds from you. “I love you Bug.” Is all you say as you play with his hair andrub his back, pressing kisses over his face and along his neck in an attempt tomake him smile, which he does half heartedly after a few minutes.

“I love you too, babes.” He graspsyou tighter when you shift, only relaxing once you do too.

“M not going anywhere, pet.” Youpromise, voice filled with sleep, already knowing where his mind was going. “You’restuck with me. For better or for worse.” You can feel his smile against yourshoulder.

“You’re not going anywherebecause we are never leaving this position babes.” You snort.

“Whatever you say, lovely.” Younotice his breathing beginning to even out. “Goodnight Beej.”

The next day he’s very clingy andrefuses to tell you what he dreamt about, but you grant him his space and justbe there for him.

You promised you weren’t going toleave him, and you were going to stick to that promise. Regardless of whattricks his brain may play.

[redeadepression]

Tw: Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Domestic Abuse

As you can probably tell by the tws I have A LOT of thoughts about this. This probably isn’t going to go in the direction you were hoping because most of them are really sad and angsty tbh. I have some pretty dark HCs about John’s penchant for punishment as a form of self-harm vs Abigail’s love of being a dom and humiliation.

I’m assuming you mean strap as in like a crop for spanking. But if you meant it as a strap-on for pegging I have A LOT of headcanons about that scenario too that are pure smut so feel free to come back and ask me to elaborate.

I want to preface this by saying I strongly believe a lot of the issues in John/Abigail’s relationship are born from no/miscommunication. Abigail does what she damn well pleases because John lets her and never actually confronts the fact he is miserable with her choices. 

TLDR: This isn’t sexy. It’s John is a mentally-ill cuck that needs to talk about his feelings. Post under the cut because it’s long and potentially triggering.

John Marston/Abigail Marston | Punishing John with the strap | Angst | Nsft

Alternatively Titled: Abigail Marston Punishing John | John Marston Punishing Himself | Angst | Nsft

How their relationship got better as a whole. Worse for John and downright sexy for Abigail.

So John personally is not really in to BDSM

He gets hurt quite a bit in his day to day life so he likes sex to be pretty much pure pleasure

Also he was beaten as a child so being spanked sometimes brings back those memories

Gives way to flashbacks and panic attacks

Something he never shares with Abigail

Because he doesn’t want to be seen as weak

In the early days of their relationship Abigail is relatively physically abusive towards him

I’m not saying John’s perfect but he never raised a hand to her

The first time she hit him he honestly wasn’t expecting it

It took him totally by surprise

It stung

It bought back ugly memories

But it ended the argument right then and there

Abigail was even apologetic afterwards

Wanting to make it up to him

Which she NEVER was after a verbal argument

John learnt to just take the hit to end the argument

Let her get her aggression out for the sake of stopping the fight

He doesn’t think it affects him

She doesn’t hit too hard and he’s been through worse

But psychologically it’s doing damage he doesn’t realise

Her literally slapping some sense in to him justified his stupid actions

Instead of just not being an idiot

He does the idiotic thing and gets punished for it

It justifies his behaviour

He starts to crave the punishment in an unhealthy way

He feels he deserves it

Instead of punishing himself for something small and stupid

He starts punishing himself for who he is

Or things that were out of his control

Not able to stop a fellow gang member getting shot?

He needs to be punished

It gets to the point where he’s starting fights with random strangers 

Just to feel the sting of a fist connecting with his face

It’s his own brand of self-harm that no one ever questions

Not even himself

Because John is an angry, violent man

He comes home with a black eye and no one even blinks

Abigail has never hidden her love of humiliation as a sexual kink

But she doesn’t indulge in it in healthy ways

Or ask for consent before she starts her games

She likes to tease him all day

Making sure he’s ridiculously worked up before she touches him

She has him cumming in under a minute

Because she knows it embarrasses him

It gets her off something fierce 

She often berates him publicly and once he’s thoroughly mortified she’ll drag him away to fuck his brains out

He knows he usually deserves the berating

But can’t actually distinguish between when he does or doesn’t

Doesn’t question it honestly

He’s usually done something wrong

When Abigail brings out the strap for the first time he’s hesitant

He isn’t in to pain

At all

But he knows she likes dealing it out

He does it to please her

Because he knows it will calm her down

Finds he doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would

He doesn’t mind because it’s better than being humiliated in front of his friends

Better than being mocked for how fast he came

He still doesn’t really like being spanked

But he never says no because it makes her happy

Abigail is not by any means a gentle Dom

She is ruthless and when she’s mad, downright mean

She likes to push until she breaks him

Spanking him until he’s stuttering

Telling him what a honest to God POS he is for whatever he has done wrong

Calling him stupid

Making him repeat her words

She doesn’t feel satisfied until his eyes are shining with tears of shame

He never mentions sometimes the tears aren’t from shame

That he’s not so worked up he’s panting

He’s struggling to breath through memories of being beaten as a child

She does give him proper after-care

Which is honestly his favourite part

He can suffer through because once she’s gotten off

He gets the best version of her to help him through his sorrow

Lots of gentle kisses

Hands running through his hair

Snuggling

Telling him she didn’t mean the things she said

It was all a game for her

Making him understand she is sorry

She was just angry

He can take the strap for the sake of a good nights sleep on her chest

He goes through this for YEARS

Their relationship is better because of it

They get along so damn well 

He never questions it

Or thinks maybe he shouldn’t be doing something he isn’t in to for her sake

He just does

Because it makes her happy

It makes them happy in the long run

It isn’t until they reach Beecher’s Hope and actually have some proper privacy that Abigail starts to understand John isn’t in to it

He’s built her a house

Works his ass off living an honest life

He’s given her everything she could want

He doesn’t spend so much time feeling as though he deserves the punishment anymore

So when she brings it up he makes excuses

Avoids sex all together because he knows it will bring him back down to where he was before they made it here

Remind him of all the reasons he should be punished

The people he’s killed

The friends he couldn’t save

Eventually he relents 

After losing a particularly large sum of money in a poker game

After he pisses her off to the point of her screaming

He decides he needs to let her punish him for the sake of their marriage

As expected it brings him down low

He starts to get angry again

Snapping at her and getting in to fights in town

Abigail notices the pattern and starts to realise something is up

She sits him down to talk about it and he shrugs her off

Lies

Of course he loves it

Whatever makes you happy Darlin’

She presses him for what makes him happy

After lots of coaxing he admits that he hates it

She says that’s kind of the point

If he loved it, it wouldn’t be a punishment

He explains properly he really hates it

Not in a playful way

Hates when she hits him

Hates when she pushes him to tears

Hates that he’s always so eager to please her

Hates that now he’s said something it will end

Even though that’s what he’s wanted for so long

He’s not sure he can go back to arguments that last for days

He wishes he’d never opened his mouth

Abigail is shocked

Genuinely floored by the fact he would do something he didn’t like to make her happy

She asks if he endured it because she always got him off after

He says he did it to make her happy

She doesn’t know where to go from there

Their sex life takes a hit

Takes a while to get back on track

But they have several long talks

They decide on set of rules that they can both be happy with

So Abigail’s punishments aren’t so detrimental to John’s mental health

She is still allowed to punish him but only after she’s calmed down

If she wants to continue on what they had she needs to walk away

Take a breather and come back to him

To prevent her going too far with her punishment

She stops using the strap 

She can spank him but with her hand only

She stops all the verbal abuse

As she finally understands he’s never really hearing her when she’s apologising

He only ever heard the bad

If she see’s tears she’s to stop what she’s doing and make sure he’s alright

They have a safe word and John is encouraged to use it

Abigail explores new ways to get off on her humiliation kink

She makes him the neckerchief he’s always wearing

Stitches her name on to the inside so he remembers who he belongs to

Pulls him around by it sometimes when they go to town

Just to see his cheeks burn

She gets off on touching him in public

Whispering dirty things in his ears to see him blush

They sometimes fuck in public

But John’s a bit too abashed to let it get too far in very public settings

She makes him masturbate in front of her

Controlling his speed, pressure and when he can and can’t cum

Sometimes she lets him be in charge

She realises she doesn’t just get off on humiliating him

She loves it when he degrades her as well

Abigail spends a lot of time building him back up

After she realises how low she has pushed him

John will/would never love himself

But he learns to at least like the parts of himself that deserve it

Their relationship grows stronger with every session

Ultimately their relationship & sex life is the best it’s ever been until the day John dies