#i literally just wanted an excuse to draw blood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

manicpixiefelix · 8 months ago

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 19.

Summary: We follow Oliver Quick in the aftermath of that night in the bathtub. In the days that follow, however, and the Arts Collective dinner drawing ever closer, you seem unusually upset. However, once he meets your mother at the party, a lot of things start to make an unfortunate amount of sense.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; masturbation, fantasies and memories of bathtub activities, pervert/enabler dynamics. Also reader's mum is in this chapter so we have warnings for implied child neglect & family trauma, as well as reader talking negatively about themselves a lot.

A/N: 8997 words. OLIVER POV and a huge chapter to sink your teeth into. goes many places, and we finally get to meet at least one of the reader's parents. i believe this is what the kids call 'conflict' in a narrative. Also the reader's parents now officially have names; Pearl & Andreas. Also nana's name is Bijou. let me know what you guys think ! <3

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Every time Oliver closes his eyes, one of about seventeen million different, lewd images pops into his head of either you or Felix. It seems his mind literally will not allow him to think of anything else, which is fine when he's alone in his room - your room, your bed - but less than ideal when he's sitting across from the two of you over breakfast. Nothing about the way either of you interacted with him was at all different from any other morning. Part of him feels like he's going crazy when you give him a sleepy smile and drop a kiss onto the top of his head in passing on the way to get yourself breakfast.

"Morning Ollie," mumbled affectionately, like it always was from you.

Though it should be noted that Oliver isn't often at breakfast before you and Felix. Both of you are reasonably punctual, and usually seem far less tired than you both seemed to be, so that at least pointed to what happened last night not being a dream. That, and Felix grinning at him as he sat down, placing a mug in front of your setting at the table, and held his own.

"How'd you sleep, mate?" With mirth shining in his eyes; he knows. What he knows and how much, Oliver isn't sure, but there's no way he'd be smiling like that otherwise. What does it mean for him if Felix knows? Where do they go from here?

"Bit restless," Oliver hears himself saying, and trains his eyes on his breakfast, feeling the heat creeping up his cheeks already. Felix makes an apology that sounds completely insincere, and punctuates it with a loud yawn, stretch, and groan. Eyes drawn to Felix, the response almost Pavlovian, and most certainly desperate, all Oliver sees is the pleased little smile Felix wears, still watching him. In the next moment it's gone, turned on you as you place a plate of food in front of him and then at your own place, settling down beside him, as you always do.

The talk over breakfast seems to be the same as it ever was. Plans for the day, with you sighing and declaring that after spend the day before in the garden, you'd be doing quite the opposite, and leisuring in the library, watching something yet to be decided if anyone wanted to join you. He could have sworn there was something pointed in your eyes as your gaze swept over the whole table, landing on his briefly. But then the conversation was moving on, and Oliver had to act like he had any room for decent thoughts in his head at that moment.

Breakfast has become unappealing. He already misses the taste of your blood.

He has to excuse himself, despite having barely eaten half of what he'd served himself. Everyone else enquires after him, asking if he's okay, and he hopes the smile he wears is good enough to stave off further questions.

"Just not hungry this morning is all."

He wishes he'd been as lucky as you, wishes you'd drawn blood; a scab he'd pick forever, a reminder of how thoroughly you'd gotten under his skin. Something in him burns to be scarred by you, marked by you both, a want so violent that you're reduced only to instincts. Bite and touch can be one in the same.

Oliver wasn't stupid. He knew what had been happening. It had been hard enough before last night with this game you'd been playing, the show you'd been putting on. A thrilling chase, tension stretched thin, waiting for Felix to finally make a move to prove that he wasn't just stringing Oliver along. The things he's seen you and Felix doing, the noises he'd been hearing -

Back in his room, he doesn't even realise how hard he's breathing until he slams his door shut, slumping against it, his heart racing.

He never thought it would have been you who broke the rules of this game you've been playing. But now Oliver's left picking up the pieces of his understanding, trying to figure out what the fuck it all meant. He locks his door frantically as he recalls something Venetia had once said to him on one of the few nights he's joined her for a cigarette outside before he would head up to the study -

"Felix hasn't needed since he was ten years old," Venetia's eyes flash with something more than amusement in the moonlight, "he was a desperately needy little brother growing up, clinging to me if mother wasn't clinging to him." The two fingers not holding her cigarette curl into a half fist. With a sly smile, she cocks her hip and leans against Oliver, "he wants, though."

A strange spark of desire arks through Oliver at her words, her knowing, teasing tone, like the flare of a starting gun, a confirmation of what he knew he'd already been working towards. It was nice to hear nonetheless. He tries to act like it doesn't effect him.

"Don't you all?" He glances at Venetia out of the corner of his eyes, tone smooth and unwavering, "you Cattons are the kind of creatures who all seem to want." Then, wetting his lips, "that's what that butler is for after all, and Y/N?" Venetia smiles broader, faint laughter escaping between her teeth.

"Oh, we all want, Ollie," with unrestrained condescension, "but so does most everyone; I know you want, I've seen your eyes. But we Cattons always get what we want, that's the difference you can sense."

"I get what I want, Venetia, I just have to work for it," he says eyes flashing as he looks at her through his lashes. Charming Felix's sister was more habit than actual desire, but he wasn't above using underhanded tactics to win over the Cattons as a whole. Even in the moonlight, he catches sight of Venetia's faint blush. Again she laughs, but her gaze drifts over the grounds.

"Then my brother's mutt must not like you that well," she mused, and takes another drag from her cigarette, "if you still have to work for what you want." The remark catches Oliver off guard for several reasons. After a moment he has to confirm that it's you that she's talking about; Venetia's look says obviously, "haven't you noticed that they can't want for themselves?"

Curled up on his your bed, hand wrapped around his own cock in what's become something of a ritual since he'd arrived and you'd begun playing this game with him, he wonders, not for the first time, if Venetia was right. It seemed as though you'd confirmed as much the other night, that you simply loved him, perhaps even wanted him, because Felix was so fond of him. Even when you'd first slept together you'd danced around the idea of what you'd really wanted, even as he pressed, insisted.

He picked up early on - and told you as much - that you want to be wanted, but Venetia's words had shaken even that belief, or at least, it's origins. At times it seemed like Felix was the kind of creature who fed on the adoration of others, who's to say that you simply wanted to draw people into his orbit, to feed his ego, rather than for your own satisfaction. After all, Oliver couldn't imagine you without Felix, anyone who was drawn into your warmth would find themselves eventually in Felix's light.

And Felix was impossible not to love.

Did that explain last night? Were you afraid you were losing Oliver? Was it simply to keep that spark of desire in his chest burning bright? Except if you knew why he'd been in that bathroom in the first place, surely you could have intuited that his desperation for Felix hadn't waned.

His free hand goes to his own throat, fingers catching in the metal chain that rest there, tangling up the same way yours had last night. Cold, sharp pressure against his throat, he squeezes his eyes closed and sees Felix's head tipped back, steam curling, sweat and water clinging to his gorgeous skin as he gasps and moans and -

"Good boy," the memory of your voice in his ear. A mess of memories from the night before, of the lewd sloshing of Felix's bathwater caught up in the eroticism of the moment, leaving Oliver's imagination to run wild. The memory of how your breathing became stuttered, the way you'd shuddered, getting off to Oliver whimpering your best friend's name in your ear as he came. Were you too thinking of Felix, or getting off believing that Oliver was?

Can't want for themselves.

Except there had been a look in your eyes, in your smile, that dangerous, thrilling thing that lit you up as you licked his spend from your fingers like you were relishing the taste of him. Self satisfaction, a kind he'd never seen on you before.

Perhaps Venetia was wrong. Perhaps he could make you want him for your own sake. Perhaps you had already started.

The fantasy warps again, this time to something entirely new, flickering back and forth between debauched depictions of you and Felix, both coveting him for your own.

"My Ollie," possessive echoes of what he hopes to one day hear, until he's conjured an image of you both, lavishing him with affection without sparing each other a second glance. Wanted by both in your own right, "our Ollie," but still wanted as a collective. Loved by your shared love, not just by extension.

Then the fantasy returns to just last night. The fantasy returns to watching Felix and desperately hoping the man was thinking about him while making those noises. The fantasy returns to you, pressed against him, hand slick with Felix's bath water and both getting off to the idea of him. The fantasy returns to the taste of your blood on his tongue knowing his cum was on yours.

The fantasy returns to you both getting off to him.

Oliver finishes embarrassingly quickly. Again. As he does most days here; there's no shortage of memories to pull from, you and Felix have made sure of that. It's also why he finds very little shame in the act anymore; surely you both know that his mind wanders to you like this, why else would you continue to put on such a show when he still hasn't made a move. After cleaning himself up, and still not quite sure what to make of your intentions last night, he decides to put that from his mind for the time being, and enjoy the day he has with you at least.

In the library, it's you, and Felix, and a box set of Classic Doctor Who; the fourth one, Oliver's pretty sure, judging by the scarf. The smile you both give him is nothing but warm and completely innocent. Oliver grins back easily, and takes a seat. It feels the same as it always has. Like nothing has changed.

But Oliver learns quickly that they have.

That night, he finds you in the lilac study in only your underwear. Underwear too nice to be worn by pure chance. Feigning innocence you tell him you can change if you're making him uncomfortable, but that it's a warm night. It's no warmer than any other night has been thus far.

"Does Felix know you're in here with me, dressed like this?" Oliver leans in the doorframe, arms crossed, unashamedly gazing over your body. Instead of a real answer, all you do is grin, raising your eyebrows at him, as if in challenge. So this is for Felix's benefit too, Oliver thinks, perhaps showing off his willingness to share you, trying to coax Oliver into making the first move on the man as a way to continue using his most beloved toy? Wanting you, and by extension, wanting Felix.

For a moment, Oliver marvels about how easily you're able to catch and manipulate his focus according to your every whim, it seems. Who are you outside of the showmanship? Is there a real person under there? Maybe he should walk away, ponder this on his own or ask you in the light of day when you still at least pretend around the others and each other.

"I thought they were cute," is what you finally say, sitting forward, "I'm quite fond of blue," you add, snapping the waistband of your underwear against your hip. Blue like Oliver's always wearing, blue like his damn eyes, blue like he once told Felix was his favourite colour. Fuck. Fine, he's just a man after all, and a lesser man probably couldn't even hold out as long as he has against you and your gorgeous fucking body in the lamplight, and that look in your eyes.

It's not as intense as it was the night before, but he still gets you off through your underwear, and at his foolish encouragement, you leave a bruising hickey on his neck. Before you part ways for the night, you walk with him to his door, which rather unnecessary, just to let him know there's concealer in his shade in the top drawer on his side of the bathroom.

"You planned this all then?" He smirks at your nerve to be so casual about this all, pressing you against his door.

"You give me too much credit," you teased, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips, "call it wishful thinking on my part," and you both know he doesn't believe you, but he still kisses you, grinning.

He tries to use this shift in the dynamic to find out more. Perhaps the physical intimacy meant you would be more open to emotional intimacy, even even he hears Felix in the back of his mind.

The day after he'd enquired about your father's work, the day after he'd pressed his ear to Felix's door from the bathroom and heard you sobbing about your parents, Felix himself had pulled Oliver aside with a tight smile shortly after breakfast.

"Ollie, I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier mate, but about yesterday; we try not to bring up Y/N's mum and dad much around here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't -" Oliver tried, but Felix waved him off easily.

"No, I know you didn't know, you didn't mean anything by it," he assured warmly, but as he went to leave, Oliver couldn't help himself.

"Why?"

Felix stops. For a very long moment there is absolute silence. Stillness. Felix's smile doesn't reach his eyes when he turns back. There's a practiced easiness to him, something about it rehearsed and unfamiliar compared to the levity with which he usually carried himself.

"Because they don't have a kid."

And Oliver has no idea what to say to that, what he could possibly mean by that, so he lets Felix leave.

So when he starts to ask more questions, he careful about them. But he can't seem to catch a break. He gets confirmation that you and Felix have known each other since you were ten, and you're more than forthcoming about your life since then, but for all intents and purposes, you didn't seem to exist before then.

Tensions are running high the day before the first event, for you especially it seemed, even though you'd made it clear you wouldn't be in attendance. When he overhears you speaking with Elspeth, he hears something in your voice he'd never thought possible; despair.

"Do you have to host them in my garden, Elspeth?" You sounded like you were on the verge of tears. The matron of the house's voice is soothing as she reminds you that it's one of the most beautiful spots in the Estate. Your garden? "But every time she's in there she breaks my statue -"

"No she doesn't," Elspeth tries to dismiss, but you huff a surprisingly petulant whine.

"She does! Twice now! The seeds, there should be six, and I know it's her, Farleigh told me -"

"I won't let it happen again, pet, I promise."

"She knows it's mine, I know it, she's doing it on purpose -"

"It won't happen again."

Oliver doesn't know enough about your issue with the Arts Collective that is coming over, or whoever this specific member is that has you so upset, so he has to bide his time to get the answers he wants.

And he's not getting them from you. Clearly.

You're withdrawn during dinner. No-one else comments on it; it's like they all understand whatever it is you're going through, and only Oliver's left out of the loop. Not even Felix seems particularly worried, and that's the bit that surprised Oliver.

In the lilac study, much later, Oliver finds you in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill. When he asks if you're okay, you bark a humourless laugh.

"By all accounts," you give a thin-lipped smile, fidgeting with the unlit cigarette between your fingers, "I should be completely fine." It's not even close to being believable. When he sits, chin gently coming to rest on your knee as it hung down the back of the sofa, you sighed, dropping the act and lighting your cigarette. 'It's nothing," you mumbled after a moment, dropping his gaze and taking a draft of your cigarette.

"It's not nothing," Oliver assured softly. Looking up at him, the barest frown creased your brow.

"I never went through the kinds of things you had to," you admit softly, unaware of the cogs suddenly turning in Oliver's mind, "my life is," you laughed without even a hint of humour, "blessed," but the word comes out bitterly. With your free hand, you reach out to run your hand through Oliver's hair, pushing it back off of his forehead, "you don't need to worry about me, Ollie." Shame pulses through Oliver all at once, his lie weighing heavily on his consciousness. He leans into your touch, lets his eyes closed, terrified you'll see the guilt there.

"I do worry 'bout you," he pushes, voice faint and demure, his eyes still closed. He lets the words hang in the air, lets you turn them over in your mind, won't overplay his hand. There's the sound of the cigarette sizzling, then a long, deep sigh from you.

"You don't know me, Ollie."

It's strange to hear you say it, hear you finally admit it. Oliver hasn't been imagining things, you've managed to evade his attempts to genuinely get close to you. Part of him wants to scream, wants to shout well whose fucking fault is that, wants to holler with some kind of vindication. Instead, he kisses your knee, and whispers that he'd like to.

"You'll get there, I'm sure," you tell him with what he's sure is an attempt at warmth, once more carding your fingers through his hair, "spend enough time with Fi and you won't have a choice." It comes as a surprise to hear the forlorn notes in your voice. But then, as quickly as they were there, they'd disappeared, and you start telling him about the guests that would be in attendance at the dinner the following night.

"Why do you know all this if you aren't going?" He's struggling to retain any of the information you've dumped on him - whose married to who, who are the artists and who are the appreciators, the scandals each have been attached to - but it seems to come so easily to you. You're on your third cigarette when there finally comes a lull in the conversation.

"So I can tell you?" You gave him a confused little smile, but he still doesn't understand.

"But what if I wasn't going?"

"But you are," you frowned a little, confused smile becoming more forced, as if his lack of comprehension almost pains you, "why wouldn't you be?" Oliver blinks, "I always knew I wasn't going, but I always knew you would, and I -" you shrugged a little helplessly, "I know things. Now you know things." This time your grin is genuine, as if pleased to be able to help him in your own way.

"Does any of this really matter?" He doesn't mean for it to sound as blunt as it comes across, but thankfully you don't seem offended. Instead you bark a laugh, leaning back against the windowsill and casting your gaze to the navy sky outside.

"They seem to think so," you groaned, as if you'd been subjected to these people and their egos one too many times, "and they love to feel like they matter. Taking the time to know people makes them feel like they matter, at least that's how I was raised." It's a crack, the barest hint to your past that Oliver will ruminate on for days to come. He remembers very sharply how you'd blurted out that you weren't meant to matter. Slowly but surely he's piecing together a picture of your past. So far, he's not liking the image it's coming to form.

So he steers from dangerous conversational territories.

"'s that why you let Venetia talk to you the way she does?" It's not hostile or judgemental, he makes himself sound as genuine as he's able. A thoughtful hum escapes you while you keep looking out across the Estate's gardens, "like you don't mind if she's mean because you know that at least she feels good about herself around you?"

"I adore Venetia despite her sharp edges," you say softly, "and she and I both know this, but she's..." looking back to Oliver, your smile is sad as your mind drifts to Felix's sister, "insecure," voice low, you give a tired shake of your head, "if I knew how to draw lines in the sand, I'm sure she would have crossed it long before now."

"All these Cattons need to be wanted, don't they?" Oliver grins widely, leaning back and reclining on the sofa, watching you crack a genuine smile.

"Why do you think they keep me around?" You joke, but Oliver takes this moment and locks it away in his mind for further pondering, along with all the other revelations you'd afforded him. At least you look brighter when you leave then when he'd walked in. The last thing you tell him is to be punctual to the garden the following night; Elspeth thinks highly of punctuality.

"Am I not going to see you before dinner tomorrow?" Oliver frowns, also standing.

"Oh," you stall by the door, something awkward in your tone, "I'll be around at breakfast, and maybe lunch, but I'm probably not going to be much company or conversation."

The next morning, Oliver finds your words to be true. At breakfast, your gaze is glassy, your movements robotic. Pamela appears to have overslept, but Oliver seems to be the only one who even notices. There's a strange air in the house. Farleigh's more terse than usual, while Felix and Venetia seem to have glued themselves to your sides, the two of them chattering quietly between each other despite how you don't even appear to be aware of their presence.

Over lunch, you too are missing from attendance, as is Pamela once more. Elspeth spends a good portion of the meal trying to encourage her children to adopt a lighter mood. Neither cooperate with her request.

"This might be the best you get from them," Farleigh glanced at Felix and Venetia wearing near identical pouts, both focusing entirely on their lunch, "unless you're planning to surprise us all with dropping a house on the wicked bitch of the -"

"Farleigh, please," Elspeth cut him off sharply, "don't call her that." Farleigh's sharp gaze flicks to his aunt, but his mouth stays shut, "it's one night, can you please just be civil?"

"One night for her," Felix says pointedly under his breath.

Oliver is at a complete loss. Trying to think back on all the guests you'd told him about, he can't for the life of him recall which they might all be referring to. It bothers him enough that once lunch is finished, he looks for you; he'd like a little more warning if he really was to be walking into some kind of lion's den that evening. When he asks Felix, all he gets is a sighed 'study' and little else.

The study door is locked, so he knocks. On the other side, he hears a sigh.

"Go away, Ollie."

How had you known it was him? But that was a question for another time.

"I have a question about tonight -"

"I don't want to think about tonight, just go away, enjoy yourself -"

"I need to know more about the guest list; there's someone who seems to really bother Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh, but I can't remember who it could be that you told me about." He lets himself sound desperate, sound a little helpless and lost; you'd gone so far out of your way to make him feel at home here, he knew you'd -

"Um," after a moment, the door creaks open. Barely. Peering out, you don't look quite right, "it's- um, I think -"

"'re you alright?" Genuine concern wells up in him, but you pull back when he reaches out for you.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine, I'm just- fuck, Ollie, I'm high; what are you, my -" but you cut yourself off with a soft, angry swear, as if mad at yourself for reasons well beyond Oliver's understanding. Gaze unfocused, you frown deeply as you lean heavily against the doorframe. Oliver bit back further concern, taken aback by your relative hostility, "there's this curator that really gets under their skin," you recall after a moment, unable to meet his gaze, "last I checked she was about Elspeth's age; Pearl L/N."

Oliver doesn't remember you even mentioning a Pearl last night amongst all the rest of the guests.

"What's she done that's so bad?" But his words curiously cause your expression to scrunch, "do you not like her either?" You shook your head so hard you almost lost your balance; this time you don't shy away from Oliver when he holds your shoulder steady, "what'd she do?"

"She's just vapid," your voice is so small; there's so much you're not telling him in this moment, Oliver can tell, "you don't need to make her feel like she matters, she knows she does," you swallow thickly, looking at the doorframe, "but if you compliment the work of Bijou L/N in her general area I'm sure she'll jump at the chance to tell you how she sold her Aurora triptych for the same amount that her mother's first house cost." You advised bitterly, lip curling, "she loves hearing herself speak," you spat as an afterthought, immediately trying to slam the door as if you'd forgotten Oliver was even there.

Catching the door, he asks once more if you're okay, and you finally look at him, pain in your eyes like he's never seen before, tears, unspilled, turning your gaze glassy.

"I do hope you have a good night," despite the sadness in your voice, you sound sincere, and Oliver lets you close the door once more.

As he's getting himself ready for the event, Oliver finds himself musing over the information he'd gotten from you. It's no surprise the Catton siblings aren't a fan of this woman; he can't imagine they enjoy being in the presence of someone who craves the spotlight even more than either of them do.

Your advice about an early arrival paid off at least, as Oliver finds himself in the fairy garden with Elspeth in her lavender gown, as always being an incorrigible gossip. With very little genuine care for her own daughter, Elspeth's gossip finds a home amid disparaging remarks. If he carefully files Venetia's insecurities and less noticeable flaws away in the back of his mind, he does so only in case of emergency. Despite their disagreements, Felix clearly loved his sister too; how Oliver would use the information Elspeth gives him to his advantage would remain to be seen, but he reasoned it was good to have.

When finally he's given the chance to comment on Pamela - indirectly, every possibly sharp remark was wrapped in layers of silk at Saltburn - Elspeth's guilt is unmistakable. So Oliver does what he does best; he tells Elspeth exactly what she needed to hear. He drives a wedge in her memories of the woman she'd kicked out, shut the door on the guilt and the thought of return, soothing the Catton matriarch in the process. Sometimes it really was shockingly easy to make the Catton Family Players dance.

"You know it's very good of you taking Y/N the way you did," Oliver adds for good measure, "eleven years I think they said?"

"Oh," Elspeth's brow creases for just a moment as she thinks back, "I suppose it has been that long, hasn't it?" There's a faraway look in her eyes, but Oliver sees an opportunity for information you and Felix were always rather evasive about.

"I would have thought it would be strange," Oliver offers, his tone carefully neutral, but of course light, "having so many people here all the time; Y/N, Farleigh, Pamela, me. You're very generous, very kind." Elspeth gives a gracious smile at the compliment, eyes shining in the twilight. The same grace with which Felix accepts Oliver's soft spoken compliments when it's just the two of them.

"Saltburn was built for company, Oliver dear, nothing strange at all," she tells him in earnest, "James and I have always welcomed our loved ones with open arms, and I am proud to have passed that sentiment on to my darling children."

"Venetia certainly seems fond of Y/N."

Something about Elspeth's expression tightens for the barest moment, and she takes a sip of her wine with a hum that almost sounds like an agreement.

"Y/N seems to believe as much," she says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, "and I suppose she hasn't run them off yet, though I suspect their loyalty to Felix has far more to do with that than whatever apparent kindness my daughter has afforded them."

"I'm sorry...?" Oliver tips his head to the side, confusion masking his intrigue.

"Lord knows I try not to judge my darling children and their friends, so I of course would turn a blind eye to their youthful trysts and experimentation, but really Venetia's been using the poor pet in bad taste for years now, treating them like a dog; you've seen the way she antagonises them, I can't imagine what she's like behind closed doors, nor why Y/N puts up with it!"

"You haven't tried to stop it?"

"Felix has come to me about some of the things Venetia's apparently said, but he seemed more miffed than anything, said Y/N wasn't at all bothered," Elspeth sighed, shaking her head, "I think they pity her, honestly."

"Sounds like Felix and Y/N have pretty inseperable, and you obviously care about them a lot too."

"Felix has always been wonderful at making friends," Elspeth gives a sweet smile, casting her fond gaze at Oliver for a moment, "but Y/N was this tragic, little thing; the first time they met us their parents enquired about whether James and I would like to host them for the Summer, of course I wasn't even aware I was talking to their parents when the offer was made, but Felix had taken quite a shine to them so of course we were more than happy to agree. Then," she gives such a dainty shrug, expression fond and blithe, "they called again as schools were breaking for Christmas, something about how fond Y/N had grown of us all; after that they didn't even have to call."

"So they've been coming back here all this time?"

"Oh the children would often holiday elsewhere during the break, but Y/N was almost always with Felix, wherever he was," she smiled wide, mind alight with memories of your shared youth, "their parents have always afforded us a generous stipend for allowing them to remain with us and Felix so consistently through the years, so it was never any trouble or burden to take care of them."

A long pause follows, and Oliver lets himself mull over all he'd learned, fascinated by it all. But he keeps coming back to one thought;

"You didn't know you were talking to their parents?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You said back when you and Felix first met Y/N, you hadn't known you were talking to their parents?"

"Well, no," Elspeth says, and takes a moment to think carefully about the past, about her next words, "but we were at a business event, I suppose they wanted to remain somewhat professional." Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. There's something there, something more. Something about these memories has softened the matriarch, even more than discussing her own daughter.

"Well I know they love you," Oliver tells her, though he's only rarely heard you and Felix talking about the family, "and I know they're grateful to you, and your husband, and all you've done for them, the care you've shown." And there it is, that faraway softness, that hint of maternal love that almost looks foreign on her.

"We haven't done all that much," Elspeth admits gently, soft smile gracing her features, "just what anyone would do, I think."

"More than what their own parents did, it sounds like."

Elspeth's expression falls, her gaze dropping to her hands. She takes a long sip of her wine.

"They're lovely people, really, please don't take what I've said as any kind of inducement on them as people, I think you'd actually find them quite charming," she says, almost forcibly cheerful, "they're exuberant, fascinating people; they've been wonderful friends to myself and James for quite some time, long before we welcomed Y/N into our home, actually," she laughs a little, looking back up, apparently having shaken her just moments ago, "I will say it was quite the surprise to find out they had a child just the same age as Felix." It's an evasive answer, one Oliver doesn't want to let her get out of but doesn't quite know how to turn the conversation back. The silence is not uncomfortable, but Oliver is still grateful that it's Elspeth that breaks it once more.

"He's never been particularly fond of them," Elspeth somehow gives him an in without Oliver even needing to pry further. Her tone is dismissive, like her son's distaste is simply childish, "but Felix has always been loyal," she smiles warmly once more after shaking her head, "I really do think you'll like them; so much of Y/N comes from them."

"I'll like them?" Oliver frowned with confusion, to which Elspeth nodded, reiterating the sentiment, "you think I'll meet them?"

"Of course, darling, they're coming to dinner tonight," she shakes her head after a beat, seemingly correcting herself, "well, their darling mother. She was at Oxford with James, studying Art History, if I do recall -" but she's cut short as Duncan announces the arrival of the first guests, and Elspeth stands, smiles, slipping comfortably into the role of the perfect hostess.

Oliver feels like he almost understands. Like he's right on the edge of putting all the pieces together. There's too much new information, too many social rules he still doesn't know; part of your discomfort was almost definitely related to your mother being here, and that vapid curator Felix hated -

"You are going to need this," Farleigh presses a glass of champagne into Oliver's hands. He seems more irate than usual, but unusually, it doesn't seem to be directed at Oliver. As the guests begin to filter in, they stand side-by-side at the edge of the garden. Farleigh looks like he belongs there, long and elegant, hand in his pocket and his own champagne glass poised delicately in his grip as he glowered at the others.

"Not a fan of the Arts Collective either?" Oliver enquires, carefully taking a sip.

"Tell me that isn't Fredrika's boy!" Comes a call from across the garden, and Farleigh plasters on a smile as he nods and tips his glass to the gentleman who'd gleefully identified him. They both hear him exclaim to some others he was with, "look how tall he's gotten!" But thankfully the man makes no move towards them, choosing instead to blatantly discuss Farleigh, and-or his mother, with little regard for the man himself.

"They've always been kind to my mother," it's the most diplomatic and genuine Oliver's pretty sure Farleigh's ever been while speaking to him. Still, his discomfort does not seem to ease.

"So I suppose there's just a few bad apples then," Oliver muses, "Y/N warned me about Pearl." It takes several seconds of silence for Oliver to finally give Farleigh his full attention. There's a curious look in his eyes, one Oliver hadn't quite been expecting.

"Did they?" He says very carefully.

"The woman sounds like a pain," Oliver says easily, trying his best to ignore the sudden strange vibe that has picked up around them, "but I assumed all these rich folks have an ego on them, so she must be some kind of something since they barely mentioned their own mother and I know they're not fond of her either."

"You are an idiot," Farleigh looks like he can't even believe the words coming out of Oliver's mouth. There's that lost feeling again, like everyone knows some kind of secret that he's not allowed to, like they all want to keep dancing around the truth, afraid of giving him real answers. Farleigh shakes his head in disbelief, an unsettling, quiet anger in his eyes, "you are a fucking idiot -"

"Oh my god, wow!" Comes a bright voice from far closer than Oliver had been expecting, "I'm getting flashbacks, Elle, are you getting flashbacks? Doesn't he look just like Freddie making that face?" Farleigh, beside Oliver, freezes.

When Oliver turns, he sees Elspeth approaching him with a painfully familiar woman on her arm, saying that this is the one I was telling you about; Oliver -

Oliver recognises your mother by her smile. It lights up her whole face, so comforting, so warm and full of affection as her gaze lingers on him.

"Oh, Oliver, I'm sure you're darling, but I must say hello to Freddie's youngling," she enthuses with a laugh. Farleigh looks like his body is three seconds away from engaging in some kind of fight or flight response.

"I see you remember Farleigh, my nephew," Elspeth points out, and the woman wraps Farleigh up in a hug that he does not reciprocate.

"Of course," she gleefully identifies, and Farleigh makes an uncomfortable noise to the affirmative. When she lets him go, she doesn't do so entirely, holding him at arm's length for a moment as she looks him over, "you are such a marvel, darling, every time I see you!" Glancing over her shoulder at Elspeth, she wears a charmingly teasing smile, "never tell James that his sister got all the good genes," and Elspeth, despite the backhanded compliment, seems only endeared by this woman's antics. Finally she lets Farleigh go, stepping back and continuing to size him up, sparkle of mirth in her eyes, "how is your mother, darling?"

"Elsewhere," Farleigh answers shortly.

"Of course, is she still in New York?"

"For the time being," it seems to be enough for her for now, letting him go. Then, she turns her attention onto Oliver, letting Elspeth make the introduction.

"And this is Oliver, a dear friend of my Felix's who's staying with us for the Summer," Elspeth rests a warm hand on Oliver's shoulder, but the woman forgoes propriety to also hug Oliver tightly.

"Oh wonderful to meet you, Oliver - Ollie, can I call you Ollie? Do they call you Ollie?" She says as he awkwardly hugs her back, running on autopilot. Oliver makes some kind of noise, he's sure, but apparently your mother takes that as an affirmative. Pulling back, she smiles with such genuine warmth it's almost jarring to think about what he knows of her, "oh Ollie, so lovely to have you here, it's so good to see beautiful, bright, fresh faces as fans of the arts; you are a fan of the arts, I take it?"

"I suppose," he offers awkwardly, to which your mother gives a laugh. It doesn't sound like laughter should, there's something a little mean about it, something condescending.

"Darling boy you're with the Arts Collective, at Saltburn of all places; one would think to do their research before attending an event such as this -"

"Wine and cheese in the garden were we get high -?" Farleigh's snide aside that hopefully only Oliver hears as he mutters it under his breath is cut off by Oliver's quick apology.

"It's my first Summer here; I'm a fan of the arts but I thought it would be best to set expectations low considering the calibre of guest. I'm not much of an artist but that doesn't hinder my appreciation," he bullshits quickly, and your mother's eyes light up, taking the bait entirely.

"Nice save," Farleigh mutters under his breath while your mother all but swooned at Oliver's humility.

"Oh! Then I do apologise, dear, I'm glad to have you here, glad to see not all hope is lost for the youth," she shook her head with a fond exasperation, "your friend Felix has never taken much interest unfortunately," she chuckles, "one of his very few flaws, I'm afraid."

"I'm also friends with Y/N," Oliver adds quickly, and immediately feels Farleigh's hand on the small of his back, voice in his ear - don't.

"Sorry darling, I don't know who that is," your mother sounds completely and utterly sincere; nothing in her smile or her body language betrays it as a lie. Despite Farleigh's warning, Oliver pushes.

"Your kid, Y/N," he can feel Farleigh actually grabbing onto the hem of his jacket, voice a snarl now - stop.

"Ollie, dear, I don't have any children," she says with what appears to be complete earnestness. Oliver blinks quickly, stepping back, faintly apologising.

"Sorry, I must have gotten some wires crossed," he says weakly.

"Are you feeling alright?" She puts her hand to his forehead, sweet concern written all over her face. God, she looks so much like you, he really thought - "can we get darling Ollie some water?" She snaps her fingers at one of the servers insistently, rudely, directing Oliver to sit down. He did so, and Farleigh took a seat next to him, wrapping an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Oliver hears himself speak almost automatically, "I don't think I caught your name." Immediately the woman's expression morphs into a pantomime of apology, offering her hand.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so used to being known at these things - god, listen to me I must sound like I have such an ego, sorry, Ollie, darling," the woman's smile reeks of practiced perfection, "I'm Pearl L/N." Everything stops for a very long few moments as Oliver shakes her hand and processes this news. He blinks a few times, and Pearl laughs airily in the twilight, "oh, maybe he does know me; look," she tips her head to Elspeth, "the boy's starstruck." He's liking her less and less and the moments go on; he can see exactly what the others' problem is with her.

"Sorry, Pearl L/N?" Quickly retracting his hand, he tries to remember what you'd told him mere hours ago, "are you the same Pearl L/N who managed to sell Bijou L/N's Aurora's to..." he trails off, having no actual idea of where the paintings had gone, but banking on what you told him about Peal enjoying the sound of her own voice. As anticipated, she looks frankly delighted, throwing her head back as an uncannily familiar laugh echoes from her. In his peripheries, he sees the approving look Elspeth is giving him.

"My word, yes, they're still up at The Met," she tells him, "I suspect it will be a cold day in hell before they're taken down; they paid more than my mother paid for the house she painted them in."

"Your mother -?"

"I'll take care of him," Farleigh cuts him off with a cold smile to Pearl. It's enough to distract the woman, who coos fondly.

"Oh you really are Freddie's, she must be so proud of the man you are, Farleigh."

Farleigh gives a jerky nod, robotically thanking her for the compliment, and she swans away to greet some of the others who've just arrived.

"Sorry, I thought... she just reminded me so much of Y/N," Oliver mumbled. Farleigh extracts his arm from around Oliver's shoulders, something dangerous in his eyes as he watches the woman, now talking and laughing and socialising with such exuberance and ease.

"You are a fucking idiot," Farleigh bites out venomously, not even looking at Oliver. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. They both watch for a moment as Pearl takes the arm of another guest, coaxing them and the group they're with to sit over on the picnic bench.

"Can you stop calling me that if you're not going to tell explain to me why?" Oliver finally snaps back, turning to level a glare at the tall gentleman beside him. Farleigh meets his unimpressed look with one of his own, gazing into his eyes as if his next words were of the utmost importance.

"Why exactly do you think that Y/N L/N has a problem with Pearl L/N?"

Oliver feels like a fucking idiot. All the pieces are finally in place, and the picture, Oliver realises, is much bleaker than he'd realised.

Farleigh looks back at the picnic table. The general chatter has died down now, and it seemed that catching up between members of the collective was in order. But his focus was captivated by the woman with your smile. Your mother. Everything familiar about her started to make his skin itch. Everything about you started to make a lot more sense.

There was an effortlessness to how she dazzled the collective, pouring affectionate praise onto the artists as they shared their creativity and triumph, offering support and suggestion to other curators and appreciators like herself who found themselves looking for advice.

Charming, exuberant, fascinating, just as Elspeth had told him she's be. Oliver just remembers hearing you weep about how, in the eleven years since you'd been welcomed into Saltburn, she'd never once asked about you.

"I'm in talks with the Vatican about doing a documentary on the Sistine Chapel," Pearl tell the collective airily when it's finally her turn to share. Chin in one hand, the other picking at the statue at the back of the table that's just behind her, Oliver remembers the argument you'd had with Elspeth just yesterday, "but it's been such a runaround," she groaned, reaching up for one of the stone seeds the sculpture was trying to eat, "so many legal meetings and all this red tape; I've got a meeting with the pope and several high ranking members of the clergy to see if I can get their blessing and bypass all this nonsense. I swear Michaelangelo would be rolling in his grave if he knew the effort one must put in nowadays to appreciate his work." A meeting with the fucking pope?

"Pope Benedict the Sixteenth?" Elspeth says with disbelief, the gaggle of women scattered around the garden echoing the sentiment.

"Has there been another one instated while I wasn't looking?" Pearl smiles, teasing edge to her tone that's uncomfortably familiar, but then there's a faint crack, and she looks up guiltily. Or at least, she looks exactly the way a guilty person should look.

"Darling, you do that every time," Elspeth laughs lightly, while the woman puts the stone seed down on the table before her.

"Surely it hasn't been that many times," she responded, though Farleigh's voice is in Oliver's ear.

"That's the third."

"Fine, let me get you another one," the woman offers, "a proper nymph for this darling little fairy garden, something pretty and fitting, not this..." She looks up at the statue, at the myth of Persephone gleefully eating what seeds are left, at the figure with your unmistakable likeness, "strange, sad little thing," she laughs, before adding that the garden itself was beautiful, and that Elspeth had to get her in contact with the landscape artist. Elspeth, surprisingly, suggests that they should head inside since it was swiftly approaching dinner.

Felix and Venetia are already sitting at the table, a mostly empty bottle of wine on the table between them, both cups far less than full. Farleigh takes the seat opposite Felix, and pulls Oliver down to sit across from Venetia. Neither of the siblings speak, but both are looking at Farleigh as if they can divine some secret message from his wordless expression alone.

"No, I take it back," Pearl's voice fills the dining room, drawing all attention as the others filled in around her. The way she's looking at Felix and Venetia is so painfully endeared; if Oliver didn't know any better, he'd say their glares in her direction were cruel, "Elle, I think Cattons are just cursed to have beautiful children," sighing with a teasing, faux disappointment to Elspeth as she passes behind the siblings to take her seat, she greets them both warmly.

"Children," Elspeth prompts, sharp look in her eyes like she's embarrassed by their lack of grace, both Venetia and Felix nod in greeting, her name coming out as a robotic mumble.

"How lovely are they," Pearl sits, fawning over the Catton siblings to the other guests, who all chatter in faint agreement. As expected, however, Oliver finds he can hear Pearl's voice over all the others, even though she sat herself across from Elspeth, at the other end of the table, "Elle, really I'm in endless awe of you and James, Saltburn has never looked so spectacular as it does under your care, I'm sure my home would go to ruin if Andreas and I ever attempted having a child, let alone raising one half as lovely as you've managed; twice!"

"Pearl," Elspeth told her, voice loud enough that it too carried, "I'm sure that if you had a child, they would be -"

"Oh you're just being kind, Elle, don't waste your breath on hypotheticals."

Across the table, Felix looks like he's about to cry.

Oliver feels... unexpectedly hollow. Every word Pearl speaks reminds him of the state he'd seen you in that afternoon.

"I hate her," Venetia snarls, loud enough for only the four at the end to have heard. There's something about this moment, looking at the siblings and their cousin so completely united against this common enemy, that finally makes Oliver realise and believe just how deeply they all cared for you. Even Farleigh was regarding him in solidarity.

Somehow Pearl still hadn't noticed the black cloud that hung over the other end of the table, or perhaps after eleven years she was used to ignoring it. At least the rest of the collective didn't seem too bothered by it, making bright conversation amongst themselves and leaving the furious youth to stew in their collective anger.

"Why didn't you tell me Pearl was your mum?" Oliver heads immediately to the lilac study. The door opens right as he's about to knock, like you'd heard him coming; you look better than you had that afternoon, but his words have your expression falling.

"I'm sure she didn't see it necessary to tell you I'm her child either," you snapped back, hostile. Oliver goes quiet. You crossed your arms, gaze dropping to the ground, "exactly."

"I don't know you," voice faint, Oliver steps back. Finally it starts to hit him, everything that's happened, everything he'd learned and witnessed and heard. The ache begins in his chest and blooms as he looks at you and tries to reconcile all he now knows. How had he not realised that in all the time you'd spent together, you'd never even given him your last fucking name? "I don't know who you are."

"I don't owe anyone anything -"

"Especially not yourself, right?" Oliver cuts you off, at war with himself when he sees the hurt in your eyes. Still, he can't stand by and let you talk like this, let you become a secondary character in your own damn life, "don't owe yourself the chance to believe that someone cares about you, wants to know you, to make you feel like you matter? I want to know you, I want to I love you," the words sound so raw, and he aches, shudders with each deep breath in, "but there is something wrong with you."

There was no anger in your eyes when you'd closed the door, nor any kind of betrayal. Oliver wonders if that would have been easier to stomach than the guilt, the look of apology. You agreed; you believed he was right. Regret begins to claw at his gut the moment he stumbles back, towards his room; he should have waited, given himself time to think, to process before going to you. Fuck, he really shouldn't have gone to you knowing the state you were in.

Oliver is hollow with want, despite his outburst, desperate to be close to you. But there's no way he can come back from this tonight. All he has is the people who care about you. If Oliver had learned one thing tonight, it was the Catton children and their cousin all did love you, each in their own way.

And Venetia Catton was smoking outside his window in a see-through nightgown.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

157 notes · View notes

deadbaguette · 2 months ago

Note

I don't want to be repetitive but I love how you make the characters so tender and loving,,, so here's a weird request, do you have any scars hc? I mean, do (insert character) hide them? Or let their lover kiss and caress them? Oh, which characters I mean you say? Your pick, have fun!

It’s not repetitive at all 🥹 I love LOVE LOVE it when people describe my art as tender and loving because that’s absolutely my favourite thing to draw. But omggg scar headcannons … you just spoke to a specific part of my brain bcs I love thinking about scars, beauty marks, etc. I don’t have the time to make a fully fleshed out scar map, BUT alongside a small doodle for the character I have a definitive scar map for (Diomedes) I can share all the scars I hc and how they’re treated :D AUUGSGDH thank you for giving me the excuse to do this I always have so answering your asks <3

Scar hcs:

Firstly I think the only character I have a set in stone scar hc for is Diomedes! I draw him more often than I would like to admit, so the ones on his face are: one across his left eyebrow, one by his lip/mouth, one across the nose, one on the right cheek, one on the shoulder, one on the foot. He is the most scarred character I draw, and this is largely due to the fact that I hc him (it’s probably also to an extent canon) as reckless in battle. He’s not a pristine clean warrior, he’s all too familiar with blood and war. He carries the reckless scars he gained in Thebes with the other Epogoni throughout his adulthood, and for so long they served as a reminder of where he came from. Death and violence that’s haunted him throughout his entire life, and these scars are symbols of that. So, what’s a few more to gain in Troy? It’s not like it’ll make him look any less battle scarred if he gains a few more. He hasn’t had a good reason to care about his life until now, scars not only remind him of that but also make him feel like he can’t change it. But… I like to imagine the people that care for him (whether this be Odysseus, Sthenelus, or in an AU Penelope) treat them with such delicacy and care that it almost creates an entire other association for them. Sthenelus gently tending to a wound that will surely scar, so that when it does heal it no longer carries the association of a mistake in battle but instead a tender moment shared between them and them only. Odysseus and Penelope kissing the scars on Diomedes’ face is their favourite pasttime, because if he won’t love them (he feels indifferent to them), they absolutely will. A tender kiss to the cheek, a gentle kiss to just above his eye, a quick peck against the side of his mouth, a loving press against his nose that they would have to tiptoe to reach. Diomedes never felt any love, hatred, or feelings in general towards his scars. He never made any more to hide them, he wore what was convenient. If his new scars weren’t covered by the clothes he would wear, so be it. But in a way he’s grown to love them, or at least the memories and feelings they hold.

Will be more hcs below the cut!

Achilles is very unscarred. Like the only scar on his body by the time he was dead was the one on his heel. Patroclus is also relatively unscarred, but he has a few. There is one on his hand that Achilles loves to kiss, but like in a very specific way. I hc Patroclus to almost always the one to initiate the physical contact, and he tends to cradle Achilles’ face with his hand (literally one of my fav form of physical touch) and Achilles always leans into it and kisses the scar on his hand. Patroclus never really liked his scars, so he tends to cover them up. But I think I believe Achilles loved wholeheartedly every part of Patroclus and movements he’s spent with him and vice versa. Every scar he’s gained will have a story to tell, so even if Patroclus doesn’t show it to others, there is a story that Achilles will hear. It would be something as dramatic as gaining it in battle or something as small as “you got this when you fell from a tree? I love it.” They’re as much friends as they are lovers, and they actively choose to continue to be in each other’s lives. If this means sitting together recounting the tales of how Patroclus nicked himself carving wood a few years ago and scarred, so be it.

Hector… I need to talk about this one!!! So normal and sane about him. He’s undoubtedly scarred, what with him fighting at the front but he’s no Achilles. Hector hides his scars but not because he’s ashamed of them, it’s quite the contrary because he in a strange way enjoys looking at them, but rather that he knows it causes his family worry. Hector loves his family so much, and he sees the worry and sadness in their eyes when he comes back with new scars to Andromache. How she’ll stare at them like it’s another piece of him lost, and it won’t be long until he is wholly gone too. He hides them so she can focus on the him that’s there now, and comforts her saying that he will come back to her. When Kassandra looks at the new scars on his chest and she can’t help but sigh. She told him to be more careful, but truly in the end they’re both fighting a fruitless fight against the fates. Kassandra knows this, and she keeps count of how many her brother has until he gains his last lethal one. He’s hiding them so as to not cause his sister distress. She knows he will never believe her if she tells him what will happen to him, but she cannot help but mourn for the living man.

Agamemnon has quite a few scars. He’s the lord of men, the shepard of the people, and wealthy beyond what he needs. The scars don’t mean much to him, and if anything they’re even more a testament to his power. He’s no Achilles who can come out of battle unscarred, but perhaps that’s the difference in what makes him the leader of the Achaeans. The scars he bears are a symbol of his humanity and but don’t take away from his power and image. He SURVIVED these scars. But deep down? I do think it’s a little more complicated than this. I don’t think I’ve discussed Agamemnon that much, but I do find his character really interesting. His family name is uhh tarnished to say the least, but throughout all of it he’s had his brother with him. Agamemnon cares a lot about Menelaus, he goes to war for him, he sacrifices his daughter for him, and they endure 10 years of war together. Agamemnon maybe doesn’t care about his own, but he remembers every scar Menelaus has. Like that one scene in book 3 yk where he just starts doing all the dramatics of MENELAUS I WILL AVENGE YOU MY DEAR BROTHER and Menelaus is just sitting there… ever so slightly wounded… being like brother it’s fine and Agamemnon still goes like MACHAON DROP EVERYTHING AND TEND TO HIS WOUND IMMEDIATELY I WILL SLAUGHTER THESE DISHONOURABLE TROJANS FOR DARING TO LOOK IN YOUR DIRECTION MENELAUS. It’s just kinda silly and sweet how much he cares about his little brother. Ever scrape Menelaus got growing up I imagine it was Agamemnon tending to it, and remembers them all to prevent him getting hurt further. As an older brother, he made it his sworn duty to make sure Menelaus grew up strong and out of harms way.

#the iliad #headcanons #time to tag the multitude of characters #diomedes #Odysseus #penelope #penelope of ithaca #sthenelus #Achilles #Patroclus #hector of troy #kassandra of troy #agamemnon #menelaus #deadbaguettesrambles #deadbaguettesask

55 notes · View notes

thewulf · 2 years ago

Text

Who are You? || Jake Seresin

Summary: After breaking up with you lovely cheating fiancée you find a place to stay at your Aunt Penny's house in San Diego. You might just get more than you bargained for when you meet the Jake Seresin.

A/N: First attempt at Top Gun, loved writing for him!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4,700+

Part 2

Life came at you fast. One moment you were planning your wedding with the supposed ‘love of your life’ Aaron, the next you were on the floor of your shared apartment wondering why he had to go and ruin everything. You and Aaron had met back in college when you were both studying engineering. He swept you off your feet, quite literally. A mishap in a chemistry lab had him picking you up so you wouldn’t get burned. From then on, the two of you had been inseparable.

Aaron was everything you wanted in a man. He was sweet, kind, funny and just an overall good person to be around. At least, that’s what you thought. The two of you moved to Michigan after graduating, both of you securing well-paying engineering jobs. You thought you were happy, you thought you’d start a life in Michigan but apparently Aaron had other plans.

You stated noticing odd behaviors from your fiancée five years into the relationship. His once calm and kind demeanor changed ever so slightly. He snapped at you often, something your Aaron wouldn’t have dreamed of doing even just a year prior. He wasn’t fun to be around anymore, you tried to make jokes that would have made him laugh and crack one back with you, but he just rolled his eyes at you instead.

You weren’t sure when it all started culminating but you were damn near a breaking point. Five years into a relationship and his personality changed so drastically over the last six months. You tried taking advice from both your mom and aunts, but nothing worked.

All the tension came to a head when you were out one night with a friend, Mandy, heading to the local bars. Aaron was supposed to be gone for the week on a work trip. He was indeed not on a work trip. Mandy spotted him and excitedly tried to drag you over to him. Your eyes widened and you yanked your arm away from her. She didn’t know Aaron was supposed to be gone. You quickly ducked your head and walked to a side of the bar you were sure he couldn’t see you from. Mandy was clearly confused but followed you anyway.

“He’s not supposed to be here Mandy.” Y/N said while quietly sipping on the whisky sour you had ordered earlier.

“Where’s he supposed to be then?” She asked with confusion laced on her brow.

Y/N took a slow and drawn-out breath while closing her eyes knowing something wasn’t right. Mandy was looking at you expectantly when you opened your eyes again, “Minnesota, for work.”

She bit her lip trying to come up with any excuse for him in the book. You gave her a sad smile while shifting around a few people trying to get a better line of sight on the liar.

Your heart sunk when a beautiful girl seemed to appear out of thin air wrapping her dainty arms around your fiancée. You bit the inside of your cheek hard, trying to will the tears that were threatening to spill to stay put. You continued to watch half hoping it was just a friend, God willing it’d just be a friend. Your heart shattered when he placed a soft kiss on her lips smiling like the fucking idiot he was. Your teeth clenched down harder drawing a metallic taste from your mouth.

“Oh, Y/N, let’s go.” Mandy softly grabbed at your arm attempting to pull you away from the bar. Your legs felt like lead as she tried to drag you away. You couldn’t hear anything nor process what you saw. You heard your heart beating slow and not so steady. Closing your eyes again you swallowed the blood that pooled in your mouth.

“I should go up to him.” You mumbled ignoring Mandy’s protests.

This time Mandy squeezed your arm trying to get you to snap out of whatever daze you were in, “That’d be an awful idea Y/N. Take some pictures and let’s go home.”

You nodded taking another sip from your sour, nearly hissing when it hit the open wound from your cheek bite. The fucking loser was continuing to hurt you without even realizing it. Mandy snapped a few more pictures making sure to get everything.

That’s how you landed on the floor of your shared apartment silently crying. The gravity of the situation finally hit you, your life you wanted to start was over. Aaron ruined it before it could really begin.

You sent the pictures to your mom and aunts who, of course, were nothing but supportive. They helped to get you out of the situation. Your mom flew in to help you pack your things and your Aunt Penny offered to let you come out to San Diego and live with her for a while. You worked it out with your boss, he agreed to let you work from home rather than lose you completely. You were free to go to San Diego for the next six months.

The actual breakup was heartbreaking yet again. Aaron almost looked relieved when you ended it only confirming your worst nightmare, being used in a relationship. It was a blessing in disguise you kept telling yourself as you made the 35-hour drive to your Aunt Penny’s. It certainly was the biggest blessing in disguise for Y/N.

You pulled up to Penny’s blue home three days after starting your cross-country road trip. You smiled taking in the views around you, smelling the salty ocean air that was unfamiliar to you. The air was warm and refreshing and the ocean front views went on for miles. Penny and Amelia ran outside to greet you, more than excited to have you come stay with them.

“Y/N!” Amelia yelled running up to you throwing herself into your outstretched arms.

“Meals!” You enthusiastically replied, “you’ve grown.” You whispered into her hair as you held her closely.

“You would have known that if you visited.” She stuck her tongue out at you after getting a better look at you.

You ruffled her hair sighing, realizing just how much you missed out because of Aaron. “I know, that’s on me. Don’t let stupid boys make decisions for you.” She nodded her head smiling while backing away, giving room for Penny to sneak in.

“It’s okay,” Penny cooed pulling you into a hug, “we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”

You nodded your head feeling very good about the decision to stow away at the Benjamin household for a while. “How’ve you been Aunt Pen?” You asked while grabbing a suitcase out of the back. Amelia came around and started unloading the contents with you.

“Been wonderful.” She grinned ear to ear.

“Moms got a boyfriend.” Amelia giggled while wiggling her eyebrows, “A pilot boyfriend.”

“Really?” You asked your aunt, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

She nodded, “I do. He’ll be around tonight.”

“What’s tonight? Anything happening?” Y/N asked nobody in particular.

Amelia ran inside with your items leaving you alone with Penny.

“Nothing major. I’ve got to close the Hard Deck tonight. He usually stops by to say hello. Along with a few other aviators.”

You smirked at your blushing aunt, “A boyfriend huh? Is he cute? What’s his name? Can I come tonight?”

She laughed at your rapid-fire questions, “Of course he’s cute! Very handsome. His name is Pete Mitchell.” Penny smiled thinking about him. “And yes of course you can come on by, it’s always a good time on a Friday night.”

“Oh, so you’re in love love.” Y/N smirked grabbing the last of the items from your car.

Penny shrugged, “A bit.”

“How do I look Amelia?” You asked your cousin as you walked down the stairs.

She grinned setting down the book she was reading, “Beautiful, as always.”

“You’re way too nice to me Meals.” You smiled sitting down next to her on the couch.

She shrugged, looking eerily like her mother, “It’s the truth.”

“We’ll thank you, you’re my favorite cousin.”

“I’m your only cousin!” She laughed punching you in the shoulder lightly.

“Precisely.” You winked getting up from the couch. “So, what am I walking into?” You eyed the fridge containing beer, you knew one would calm your nerves.

She peeked back over her book, “Lots of flyboys. All cute too. Some cool girls come around too.”

You nodded cracking open the beer, getting rather nervous hearing that, “Pretty cute hmm?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically, “I think so. They’re all very kind. Just twice my age. So, it’s more of a looking situation for me.”

“Not twice mine.”

Amelia giggled shaking her head, “Mom always says no flyboys. I assume she’ll say the same for you. Bit of a hypocrite she is.”

This time it was your turn to laugh, “Sounds like she knows something.”

Amelia nodded looking down at the time, “You better go if you want to beat Mav there.”

“Mav?”

“Maverick, it’s Pete’s callsign. They all have one.”

You nodded finishing the rest of the beer, “I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.”

“You’ll have fun! Go! Don’t think of that stupid boy either. Enjoy the night.” She shot up from her spot on the couch and began pushing you towards the front door.

You put your hands up, “Alright, alright! Have a good night, Meals.”

“You to! But not too much.”

You hesitantly walked towards the Hard Deck really regretting your decision to go out tonight. You just weren’t feeling up to it now. All you really wanted to do was grab a pint of ice cream and hang out with Amelia.

Sighing you pushed open the door to the bar taking in your surroundings quickly. Everybody appeared to be normal, no flyboys in sight. Smiling you walked over to the bar spotting Penny’s blonde hair.

“There you are, was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show.” She grinned grabbing you a beer and setting it down in front of you.

“Thanks Pen. Your daughter distracted me when I was leaving.”

She shook her head, “Pete and the crew should be here any moment.”

You nodded taking a big sip of the beer, hoping to feel lightly buzzed before meeting a bunch of new people.

True to Penny’s word a few people in uniform came waltzing through. All of them seemed to ooze confidence which sent you scrunching down in your chair trying to avoid any and all eye contact. It’s not that you didn’t like meeting new people, it’s just that they were all so intimidating. You snapped your head back to Penny with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter?” She laughed pouring what you assumed to be Pete’s beer.

“They’re terrifying.” You whispered leaning in close.

She let out an alarmingly loud laugh that you were sure grabbed the attention of the crew, “Hardly love. They may look it but they’re a bunch of hooligans.”

“I can attest to that.” A male voice spoke from behind sending you nearly jumping out of your seat.

“Jesus.” You took a breath and turned around to look at the very handsome man.

“Pete! This is Y/N. She finally made it in from Michigan.” Penny handed him his beer as he sat down next to you.

“Hello.” You smiled at him taking another good look at him while sipping on your own beer.

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Penny’s told me all about you.”

You turned to your aunt with a raised brow, “She’s always had a big mouth.”

“Hey!” Penny laughed hitting you with the bar rag, “Only good things I promise Y/N.”

“I believe you Aunt Pen.” You smiled brightly at your aunt.

“Alright, let me go serve the kids and I’ll be back.” She winked at the both of you before turning around to a ‘kid’ who was sporting a rather pornstache looking mustache. You noticed him pointing over to you and Penny looking back at you. Rather uncomfortably you turned your entire body to Pete and tried to distract yourself.

“So, Pete, are you good to my Aunt Pen?”

He smiled watching her pour beers and hand them to the kid, “Of course. I lost her once and I’m certainly not planning on doing that again.”

“Good.” You nodded taking another swig from your glass.

“And you? What’s your story kiddo?”

You sighed not really wanting to get into the nitty gritty details with Penny’s boyfriend, “My fiancée cheated on me. I needed to get away and Penny offered her place for a while.”

He nodded slowly taking you in this time, “Sorry kid. People suck sometimes.”

You bobbed your head unsure what to say to the man, “Indeed they do.” You said while sighing, finishing off the beer.

“Not all of them suck,” he smirked finishing his off at the same time, “Looks like somebody else has some eyes for you.” He set his glass down and stood up, motioning for that somebody to come over.

“Don’t leave me.” You pleaded seeing him start to walk away.

He laughed, “From what Penny tells me, you’ll be able to handle him just fine.” He winked and disappeared behind a few people. You sighed yet again scrunching your nose up, not too thrilled with the situation you had landed yourself in.

“Need another?” A new voice spoke from behind. Y/N turned around slowly shyly smiling at the aviator in behind her.

“Uhh, sure.” You bit your lip turning back towards the bar cursing your inability to even hold a conversation with the handsome stranger.

“You mind?” He pointed to the chair.

You shook your head no racking your brain for anything to say to the man sitting beside you. He was beautiful Y/N thought. A far departure from her once fiancée Aaron, the stranger sported blonde hair and green eyes, stunning green eyes. Y/N took a breath and smiled again at him.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for an even more beautiful woman.” He grinned calling Penny over to refill both drinks.

You couldn’t stop the light blush that crept across your face, earning a chuckle from the handsome stranger sitting next to you.

“Don’t even think about it Hangman.” Penny spoke eyeing her niece and the serial player sitting close together, “Not my niece.” She glared at him taking both glasses.

He chuckled sticking his hand out to you, “Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman.”

You took his hand gingerly in yours shaking it briefly, “Nice to meet you.” You eyed him curiously waiting for an explanation that was never going to come.

“Hangman?” You questioned.

“Long story.” He nodded scooting ever so slightly closer to you.

“Like the kids game?”

This time he laughed, loudly, drawing the attention of his fellow aviators. “Exactly like the kids game.”

You nodded, “That’s interesting.”

“Just like me sweetheart.”

You could feel another blush creep up, you mentally cursed your face for giving you away so easily. Y/N was flustered. Aaron wasn’t nearly as smooth as this beautiful man was before you. You didn’t know how to deal with this level of boldness, not quite used to the attention he was giving you.

Penny saved your racing thoughts setting the beers down rather hard eyeing Jake in the process. “I’ve got my eye on you Seresin.” She smiled walking away back over to Maverick on the other side of the bar.

“What’s that about?” You asked sincerely hoping for an honest answer from the man sitting even more closely now, not that you minded.

“Nothing sweetheart.” he finally looked back up into your eyes stopping whatever he was going to say.

This time it was his turn to sigh, “I might have a small reputation.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you took a long drawn-out sip of your beer waiting for him to go on.

He ran a hand through his hair trying to figure out what to say to the beautiful woman sitting next to him. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but her eyes stopped his usual spiel. It was like she was bearing her entire soul to him in just the way she was looking at him. He sucked in a breath before continuing.

“A playboy reputation?” He spoke timidly, grinning at her but he knew she could see right through it.

“Ahh, there it is.” Y/N clicked her tongue almost afraid to look back him. You knew you would get sucked back into his eyes, all green and perfect. It’s always the eyes for Y/N.

He gulped knowing his next words would dictate the way the rest of his night would go, “Come over and meet my friends. They’re a great group of people.”

You looked at him expectantly considering the options. He quickly pivoted away from that statement. Bud what else did you have to lose? You knew his end game now and you certainly weren’t going to let him take you home tonight.

“Sure.” You nodded standing from your seat. He grabbed your beer and led you over to the small group of people standing around the pool table. Jake cleared his through garnering the attention of the crew.

“This is Y/N, our dear Penny’s niece.”

“We know.” Pornstache guy smiled walking over to you, “Penny told me.” He winked at Jake before continuing looking down at you, “Bradley Bradshaw ma’am, these assholes call me Rooster.”

You smiled seeing the rest of the group groan telling him to shut up, “Nice to meet you, Bradley.” You opted for using his real name, not quite comfortable enough to use the nicknames just yet.

“These two are both trouble.” The lone female stepped up and pulled you away, “Natasha, or Phoenix.” She smiled snatching your beer away from Jake before handing it back to you. “Those two playing pool are Payback and Bob.”

You waved quickly turning your attention back to Natasha, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all, although slightly overwhelming.”

She laughed patting your back, “You just missed the big group. We just wrapped up a mission a few days ago. Everybody is getting reassigned. I luckily get to stay for a while longer with these smooth brains.”

“Hey now,” Jake walked back over eyeing you subtly, “You love us Phoenix.”

She scoffed, “Love is a word you can use.” She spoke while rolling her eyes.

“So, Y/N,” Jake spoke in his oddly attractive southern draw, you turned you attention back to the man, “where are you from? What’s your story?”

You noticed the rest of the crew go back to what they were doing leaving you with Jake, Phoenix shaking her head used to Jake’s antics.

You tapped your glass thinking of what you wanted to tell him, “From Ohio, lived in Michigan, broke up with a guy and now I’m here.” You nodded your head knowing that’s all you wanted to say.

He chuckled this time taking his turn to respond. Noting that Y/N was closed off. “You want to go for a walk darling?”

You eyed him curiously, “Are you going to murder me?”

You earned a snort from him this time, “Now why would I do that to the beautiful woman I’m trying to take out on a date?”

You shrugged, “Just something a murderer would suggest.” You smiled up at him charmingly, “Wait, did you say date?”

“I did beautiful.” Smirking he took a long drink from his glass. You gulped eyeing him, how could one be so attractive taking a drink of beer?

You hummed keeping your eyes on him as he lowered his glass, “Maybe. You’ll have to convince me though.” You shrugged as nonchalantly as you could muster, trying to form some sort of confidence.

“Well let me take you on a walk then darling.” He grinned setting his empty glass down on a table.

“Alright,” you set your glass down and turned towards Natasha, “if I don’t come back though, he did it.” You pointed towards Jake.

She laughed, “Jake is many things, I don’t think he’s slick enough to get away with murder though.”

Jake rolled his eyes and softly touched your wrist, “May I?”

You snapped your body back around feeling his warm touch on your arm, “Okay.” You spoke while your brain short circuited from the contact. He pulled your arm gently into his side bringing you closely to him. You were sure your heart was about to beat right out of your chest.

The two of you walked slowly down the beach in a comfortable silence listening to the waves crash onto shore.

“From Ohio? And moved to Michigan?” He asked softly not wanting to startle you.

You hummed agreeing with his statement, “Got my degree and found a job in Michigan. It’s a beautiful state, just too cold in the winter.”

He chuckled, “It doesn’t get too cold in Texas.”

“That where you’re from?”

“Yes ma’am.” He spoke while rubbing his thumb along your forearm sending a wave of chills down your body. “Born and raised, Texas is home.”

“Never been.” You admitted.

He gasped, “Well I’ll be. I’ll take you there one day.” He squeezed your arm gently.

“Oh really?”

“If you let me that is.” He spoke sounding rather nervous, a far cry from his previous flirting.

“We’ll see Tic Tac Toe.”

He threw his head back laughing loudly, “Hangman darling.”

“I like Candyland better.” You looked up to him for the first time since you two left the bar smiling as his green eyes reflected the sunset on the horizon.

“Well, I’ll tell you what darling,” he stopped abruptly which halted you in place, “you can call me whatever kids game you want if you let me take you out?”

Giggling you bit your cheek to suppress the grin forming on your face, “That’s a tempting offer.”

He nodded, “Then take it.” He winked down at you pulling you slightly closer to him.

You did want to take his offer. He was a beautiful man practically begging you to go on one date with him. Why were you so apprehensive? Was it the look Penny gave you before you went off with him? Was it the thought of even attempting to form a new relationship so soon after the last one ended? Was it simply because you were scared? You looked up at him biting your lip softly trying to form a coherent sentence with him looking at you so expectantly.

“What’s got you thinking so hard beautiful?” He asked while raising his eyebrow, curious to the girl’s apprehension. Jake wasn’t used to it. Sure, women have played hard to get but he always knew their end game. With you? He wasn’t so sure. You were shy, quiet and seemed uncertain. Something was stopping you and it was already driving Jake mad. You were simply different, as cliché as that sounds. You clearly wanted to entertain his advances, but he could not figure out the why, yet.

You hummed still trying to figure out what to say to him. Of course, the stupid blush you couldn’t hide crept back up onto your face. Should you just tell him the truth? You didn’t want to offload so much onto this nearly complete stranger, but he seemed so earnest, so eager to learn about you that you had the urge to.

Still stopped on the supposed walk you were supposed to be taking you finally garnered the courage to speak to him, “Jake, I just got out of a long and quite frankly heartbreaking relationship. I don’t know if I’m ready yet. I don’t want to string you along or hurt you.” You finished the last part of your statement quietly, so quietly you weren’t sure if he heard it.

There it was, he knew there had to be something. He also knew you were a total sweetheart just in the admission. You didn’t want to hurt him?

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

This question made you think. Did you want to talk about it? You’ve only talked to your mom about it, Penny a bit but the nitty gritty details were left out. You did want to talk about it, but with Jake? You weren’t sure.

“I don’t want to unload on you like that, I hardly know you.” You admitted sheepishly avoiding his gaze that never seemed to leave your face.

“And how do people get to know other people Y/N?” He asked sincerely, not trying to sound like an asshole but really trying to get to know you.

You let a small chuckle escape your mouth nodding your head to his point, “They talk.”

“Exactly.” He grinned at you once you finally got the courage to look back up to him, “And I asked about that, I want to know. But if you don’t want me to know that’s alright. There’s many things to talk about.”

You shook your head more in disbelief than anything, “Who are you, Jake? My aunt obviously thinks of you a certain way yet you’re speaking to me like somebody completely different.”

He shrugged, “She sees a certain persona that I want everybody to see. I’m not just that person, that’d make me a pretty awful person.”

“Then why do you put that persona out there?” You questioned, genuinely curious.

“That’s a great question Y/N. One that I’m still figuring out.”

You nodded at his honesty deciding to air out your own baggage to him, “My fiancée cheated on me. I’m not sure how many times or when it started but I caught him out one night at the bar making out with somebody else.” You spoke quickly.

He softly squeezed your arm in comfort, “That’s no man, darling. Dodged yourself a bullet.”

“Spent way to long chasing and holding onto that bullet.” You sighed.

The rest of your walk with Jake consisted of you spilling every detail, to an extent, to him. Something felt so right talking with him. He was the first person who just listened and let you speak your mind. He spoke up when you needed him to, but he let you get it al out. You also learned quite about him in return, you weren’t going to let him get away knowing so much of your baggage without knowing some of his.

He talked about the ‘one that got away’ and how he fucked it up. How his insecurities let the best thing that’s ever happened to him walk away. He admitted to you that he didn’t want to do that again, to feel such sadness knowing it was from your own mistakes.

Before the both of you knew it you spent two hours walking up and down the now dark beach as the sun had set hours prior. When you finally got back to the Hard Deck your aunt was closing the place down with Pete sitting there patiently waiting on her. You didn’t see any of the other aviators as you looked around.

“Have fun?” Penny asked eyeing you curiously seeing as who you came back to the bar with.

You nodded walking to her, Jake in tow, “I did.”

“Me too.” Jake chimed in placing his hand at the small of your back. You could not stop the shiver that ripped down your body from the feeling. You could have sworn you heard Jake laugh softly in response.

Penny smiled shaking her head, “That’s good. What’d you two do?”

You noticed Pete listening in but trying to make it seem like he wasn’t, “Just walked and talked.” You admitted without admitting a single thing.

Penny smiled eyeing Jake yet again, “Just, be careful.” She spoke to you.

“I am, don’t worry Aunt Pen.”

“It’s not you that I’m worried about.” She answered truthfully earning a chuckle from the tall blonde pilot.

“I can promise you Penny, there’s no way I could hurt this one right here. If anything, she’ll go breaking my heart.”

You rolled your eyes trying to play it off cool, but the blush had another idea. Penny grinned like a Cheshire cat seeing your reaction to his over-the-top statement. Penny handed the two of you another round of beers, on her, before quickly turning her attention back to cleaning and Pete.

Gaining some confidence as he led you away from earshot you finally said what you wanted to, “So Jake, about that date?

Part 2

#jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman x female!reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #glen powell #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun hangman #top gun #hangman top gun #top gun fanfiction #lieutenant jake hangman seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

creative-clawmarks · 3 months ago

Text

Longass Vampire AU Loredump

I feel I should preface this with the most important fact of this AU: supernatural beings are not actually a part of this world.

What I mean by this is there is no secret society of vampires, there is no chapter in the medical books on lycanthropy, and ghost hunters still have not found conclusive evidence. As far as you or I or anyone else knows the cast of MH are the only things like them in existence.

Because the Operator did this to them.

It's a parasite, and its strategy is to make people into predators then mop up the trail of bodies they leave behind.

As for why their monstrosity takes the specific forms it does? The Watsonian Explanation is that we will never really know, such things are beyond people's understanding. The Doyalist Explanation is that I have taken the character's metaphorical roles and made them literal to give myself an excuse to draw sharp teeth.

With that out of the way, here's what these freaks are actually capable of:

Alex (Vampire):

Standard package of fast healing, unnatural speed, and unbeating heart. Probably immortal but I guess now we'll never know.

Drinks blood, of course. But I like my vamps fucked up so there's a good dose of gory cannibalism for flavor.

He won't combust in the sun or anything, but his skin is especially sensitive to heat and his eyes are especially sensitive to light.

Heightened hearing, he could hunt someone down with his eyes closed just by tracking their heartbeat.

Venomous, specifically paralytic toxins. Once he's bitten you there's no running away, you're basically screwed.

Fangs and claws are retractable. I also gave him a forked tongue because he's like a terrarium snake to me :)

"Once more I have seen the director go out in his lizard fashion."

He can purr. Because I know what the people want.

Tim (Werewolf):

Standard package of fast healing, unnatural strength, and canine features. Would rather not think about whether or not he's immortal.

Does not hunger for human flesh. If given the opportunity he might maul a deer tho.

Burned by the touch of silver. He also personally thinks wolfsbane is gross but that's unrelated.

When in human form he's mostly that, human. Sure his senses are sharper and he can grow out his teeth and claws a little bit but otherwise he's normal.

When in wolf form, on the other hand, he is DANGEROUS. I'm talking bite through steel tear you in half only thing that can stop him is a silver bullet dangerous.

The wolf form is analogous to Masky in this AU, as in he turns against his will whenever he's threatened or misses a dose and he won't remember much whenever he eventually turns back.

The only time he can change under his own power with his mind intact is during the full moon. He looks forward to it every month because without the threat of loosing control being a wolf is rad actually.

If you scratch him under the chin he goes boneless. Doesn't matter what form he's in.

Brian (Ghost):

Standard package of walk through walls, disappear, and fly. I don't think the term immortal applies to this situation tho...

You know the excuse that ghost don't just physically manifest cuz they don't have enough energy for it? Yeah he's so incandescently pissed that he's tangible more often than not.

Its actually kind of the opposite conundrum where he has to focus and calm down to actually use his ghostly abilities.

Salt circles will totally work on him, but good luck catching him first lol.

Even if you can't see him you can still sort of feel his presence, the room will get colder and the shadows will get deeper.

If you catch him on a bad day he can pull some Poltergeist TM level shenanigans.

Can't really communicate like he used to, his mind is too broken and detached from what it once was. That's why all the ToTheArk videos look like that.

If you were to put a spirit box in the room with him all you would hear coming out of it is his death screams on loop.

Jay (Mortal):

He's just a guy lol, poor bastard doesn't stand a chance.

Why yes, he has read Twilight. Why do you ask?

#my art #marble hornets #vampire au

133 notes · View notes

prettyshon10 · 8 months ago

Text

TOWL EP. 4

SPOILERS

- Poured some wine for this one; let’s go

- Whose house is this? It’s nice (was that a roomba I saw?)

- Yes, thunder! Set the atmosphere!

- I will never skip these opening credits

- The body is giviiiiing! Danaiiii!

- That man is lusting—omg, he see’s the scar!

- It’s literally takes me twice as long as the episodes’ run time ‘cause I keep pausing and rewinding, but can you blame me? I’m trying to take EVERYTHING in; I’m tryna savor

- “You’ve become a bit of a creative writer these days. That note? In the getaway boat? Poetry.”

- She’s MAD mad, y’all!

- “Children”! She said “children”! He caught that!

- Only 7 minutes in and this ep has me in a chokehold; Imma need more wine

- I knew it wasn’t gonna be that easy; sorry to y’all theories

- THEY ARE ACTING!!!! ACTING!!! The mannerisms—the cracked voices raised in anger! The fact that NOBODY on the TWD cast bagged an Emmy is so freakin CRIMINAL!!!

- Yo! Automated Voice! SHUT UP!

- She ain’t giving you that thing, sir.

- “What did they do to you?” The angst is angsting.

- “Do you still love me?” STOOOOOOP! I’m done! 😭Cut the show—

- Now the sun’s coming out from behind the storm clouds…

- Round three of “They won’t come after us if we’re “dead””, huh?

- I’m totally sure Jadis would not believe they’re dead. They’re Rick and Michonne. She knows better.

- Shout out to my subscription plan—I love not sitting through commercials!

- Sis is really whacking him over head with the “what about the kids?!” approach

- The black woman in her is leaping out and I love it; baby said “deuces, then.”

- Don’t tell me she’s waiting for him to follow her…

- And he wants to!!! The tropes are troping!

- My wine is gone and I’m not even halfway into the episode. I’m gonna throw myself out the window, I swear…

- I hear a chopper; no no no no no

- Not her sassing him 😂 I love snarky Michonne

- “The only time I feel safe is when I’m with you.”

- Even at their most divided, they’re a forced to be reckoned with. Look at them fight together!

- Not him getting blood on her face! Rick, she’s pissed enough as it is!

- Automated Voice, I’m not doing this with you, again!

- The way she grounds him back to reality in the midst of his panic. How very “sun’s getting real low” of them. ❤️

- Inject this entire scene into my veins

- Bathed in the golden glow of this light; it’s the little things

- RJ really does look just like Rick. Shout out to the casting director. Man’s genes said “you’re gonna carry a lightly melanated clone, and that’s final!”

- This show is literally fan service done the RIGHT WAY; other shows takes notes

- Not the roomba sneaking a peak! Caught my boy off guard—he was ready to fight

- Finally, he’s asking about the mark

- “Carl. They took Carl.” Excuse me?!

- “I can’t live without you. Without you, I die.”

- Andrew Lincoln wants me deceased: confirmed. This is a personal attack, I’m sure of it

- Oh lord, not the Carl drawing…

- I just…😫😭

- Elevator make out! One thing about my faves, they’re gonna get it in anytime, any place! And walker killing is an aphrodisiac!

- In the car, too! 😂

- Things are totally gonna go left; only question is how

- Wait, it’s over?!

#danai ATE every crumb #she said 💋 no leftovers #twd towl #towl spoilers #the walking dead #the ones who live #richonne #rick grimes #michonne grimes #rick x michonne #amc #1x04

110 notes · View notes

wolfgirlguts · 1 year ago

Text

some vore asks I guess

Gonna be catered to my tastes so there's some implications of digestion and graphic stuff. Feel free to reblog or whatever

Picky: What kind of standards do prey (or predators) have to meet for you to consider them?

Looming: What's your preferred size difference?

Chase: Do you like to hunt your prey (or be hunted)? How does that go?

Cauldron: What are the conditions like in your stomach? Or for prey, what kinda stomach environment would you find ideal?

Gnash: How do ya feel about chewing?

Regret: You ever change your mind and wish you didn't indulge after the fact? If so, why?

Spice: Do you like doing anything to prepare your meals (or be prepared as a meal)? Could be anything from specific activities or foreplay to literal meal prep and cooking.

Clatter: How do you feel about stuff being left over from the prey? Accessories, bones, that kinda thing? What do you do/want done with them afterwards?

Siren: What methods do you use to draw in prey?

Release: Are there times you'd let a meal go free? Any ever escape on their own?

Heart: Do you feel anything for your prey? Are they just food to you?

Sparkles: Do you involve any kind of magic or indistinguishably-advanced tech in vore?

Blood: Blood (blood)?

Slosh: How long does it take to digest prey (or how long does it take to digest you)?

Dare: What's the flimsiest excuse you've ever made to eat someone (or get eaten)?

Delicacy: What's the weirdest or most notable thing you've ever swallowed?

Heft: Do you gain a lot of weight from your prey?

Rep: Do your friends know you eat people?

Crush: Does being into someone make you want to eat them more or less? Same question but in reverse for prey. You know the drill by now.

Smash: Do you enjoy fucking before, after, and/or during eating someone? If so, with the prey, or someone else?

Noisy: How loud is your gut when it's working? Or even when it's empty? Those growls ever give away your intent to prey?

Chatty: Do you talk to your prey? If you can hear them, do they ever talk back?

Strut: Do you like showing off your gut when it's full? Or even when it's not? Do you put your outfits together to emphasize it?

Hibernate: How well can you sleep through having a squirming gutful of prey?

Taunt: Do you like mocking or teasing? Lighthearted or cruel?

Combo: Do you like eating several people at once, or do you tend to stick to one morsel at a time?

Finisher: What happens when your prey finally stops struggling? Is it a special moment? Do you do anything to get there faster?

#fatal vore #digestion #bones #blood #prin howls

148 notes · View notes

mrsaltieri-real · 1 year ago

Text

Sam Carpenter as a Girlfriend (SFW and NSFW)

Sam Carpenter as a girlfriend (with fem!afab!reader)

A/N: Just realised this will be my last post as a 22 year old as it’s my birthday tomorrow and I’ve never written anything for my best girl before. Disgraceful. So let’s start off with some Headcanons!

SFW

Initially, it takes her a while to trust you

She wanted just a fling to start with but found she couldn’t stop thinking about you and it was driving her nuts

Eventually plucks up the courage to ask you out and is just so relieved when you say yes

She’d be very hesitant on dates and try and avoid talking about herself as much as possible

Is still on edge after everything with Richie and his family, she doesn’t know if you’re just using her

She has really bad trust issues, will need a lot of reassurance that you’re in it for the long run

Will take her a few months to begin to open up about herself

Once she does? Oh boy.

Honestly the sweetest girlfriend ever

She’ll open doors for you, pull out your chair for you, kiss your hand

She’s just a sweetie

Loves taking her girlfriend on dates to the movies so she has an excuse to hold your hand or put her arm around you

Likes to lie down with her head in your lap and just chat to you about the most mundane things, enjoying the normality

ADORES it when you play with her hair

She’s just so SOFT with you

But extremely overprotective

Considering what she’s been through can you blame her?

Anyone looks at you the wrong way she’ll immediately get defensive

She’ll honestly square up to a 6ft5 boxer if they made you even a little uncomfortable

Will honestly knock a bitch out for you and have no regrets

She likes it when you cook for her

Even if you’re an awful cook she’ll eat every last bite of it

Likes to get stoned and laugh with you all fucking night

Works overtime at her job just so she can treat you to date nights, jewelry, clothes, everything

When you tell her to stop she’ll shut you DOWN

Loved to cuddle, more in private

Gushes about you to Tara

Will watch you sleep for hours on end just asking herself how she got so lucky to find someone like you

Her main love languages are words of affirmation, gift giving and quality time

She’s seriously an amazing girlfriend

NSFW

Sam is a FREAK I don’t make the rules

She’s a dom, a goddamn top

Has a high sex drive for sure

Channels her inner rage and bloodlust into fucking you stupid

She’s an ass and thigh girl with a soft spot for tits

But HEAVY on the thighs

She’ll tie you down and grind her clit on your thigh till she cums

And make you do the same to her, literally manhandle you into her and force your hips to move

Owns a strap, scratch that, she has an entire collection of sex toys that she’ll use on you

Treat her strap like it’s her own cock

She’ll make you gag on it, beg for it, fuck your hand with it

Really really gets her going when your sucking her off, looking up into her eyes

Her hands will be on your head, forcing it down your throat

Likes to finger you. Like, REALLY likes to finger you

Then force her fingers into your mouth and make you taste yourself

Same when she’s eating you cunt, she’ll make out with you hard afterward

Likes you to know how wet she’s made you

Her favourite positions with the strap are missionary and doggy

Doggy because she likes the view and it allows her to spank you (she loves spanking)

Missionary because it allows her to kiss you, choke you, rub your clit

A big dirty talker. Not much on degradation but has a massive praise kink on both ends

Likes when you tell her how good she feels, likes to tell you how good you are, how amazing you taste, how good you feel

Really loves phone sex, hearing you get off to her words is just such a turn on for her

She does enjoy scissoring but she prefers thigh riding

Likes when you scratch her up with your nails hard enough to draw blood

Expect to be marked up to holy hell when she is done with you

She really loves to leave hickeys everywhere

You neck, chest, stomach, thighs

Everywhere

Has a big ol’ blood kink that she can’t help

Same with a knife kink

But she’s very calculated with how she incorporates that, the last thing she’d want to do is scare you away

Can and will go down on you for hours, overstimulate the hell out of you and not stop till SHE is done with tasting you

But she loves to receive just as much

She’ll literally fuck your face till your a whimpering, drooling mess

Likes to make you ride her face, will die happily suffocated by your cunt

Sometimes it’s like she a woman possessed and she just can’t control herself when she’s around you

But this is all when she entirely trusts you

After Richie and how he treated her it took her a while to let someone see that side of her

The aftercare is sweet

She’ll clean you up, leaving kisses on every mark she left and just be so gentle with you

Likes to take showers with you and help you clean yourself up

You’ll fall asleep to her tracing her fingers over the hickeys she’d left scattered across your body

#my wife #my girlfriend #i love her so much #she’s so fucking HOT GOD #i gotta write her #i gotta #last post as a 22 year old let’s GO #scream #scream 6 #scream headcanons #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter

329 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 19 days ago

Text

Run Rabbit, Run.

Synopsis: While investigating supernatural murders in a small town, Anderson jumps into wrong conclusions.

Warnings: Blood, injury, stockholm-syndrome?

A/N: inspired by some guys in our town that would always call the cops on us goths, saying 'dark figures are doing satanic rituals' (we were literally just chilling)

"Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil."

You run as fast as you can, but he keeps pace easily, merely strolling as he wears you out.

"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness..."

A bayonett pierces the tree next to your skull and you let out a bloodcurling scream.

"...against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places."

The woods are swallowed by a pitch black tonight, eventually making you trip and fall. Blood runs down your calf, the sharp pain in your leg numbed by the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You try to get up, to keep running, but it's too late...he got you.

"Amen."

The man in front of you was wearing the robe of a priest, looming over you with a manic grin stretched across his face.

When he started his chase you had thought him to be insane, a mass murderer who was merely disguising himself as a man of faith.

That theory would soon prove to be wrong - and the truth is way worse.

"What a bloody waste of time" he thinks, watching you squirm in the dirt like some cornered animal.

If he had known how pathetically weak you are beforehand, he wouldn't have bothered coming himself. Sending Yumie or Heinkel instead would've sufficed by far, and even that would be flattery for some cheap excuse of a demon like you.

Boring, but now that he's here, might as well enjoy the hunt...

"Please...I have no idea what you want from me!" Countless begs drop from your lips, clinging to the hem of his coat as you try to explain yourself, yet he wouldn't budge. Usually he'd have a violent outburst at such a vile creature touching him, but much to his own surprise, he remained frozen, staring at you with a mixture of irritation and sympathy.

"My, what a sweet voice you have." He looks down to your torn dress, a wound gaping on your leg. So you're too weak to even heal your own injuries. "That must really hurt, little one."

The assassin sees dried blood straining your clothes, skin, fingertips, tainting himself as well. He had found you like this, in an empty alleyway crouched over a fresh corpse, claiming you merely wanted to save them.

How foolish of you to run off into the woods, where he could get rid of you without causing disturbance for bystanders.

"Such a young gal" he looks at you with a stern, almost pitying expression. "Had her whole life still in front of her. What a shame."

Maybe you were turned against your will, left confused and afraid after your bloodrage got the better off you.

Anderson shakes his head, trying to become rational again. He's used to all kinds of deceit, has fallen deaf to any pleads over time. After all, the last time he hesitated, he's got a lesson that's still written clearly on his left cheek.

Ever since then he promised himself to never show mercy again.

Seeing him brace his weapons, you shuffle until your back hit the tree behind, shouting at the man. "Do-on't touch me, you freak!"

"You're one to talk" he scoffs, crouching over your trembling form. He gazes at you without any malice, considering to grant you a merciful death. "But lemme tell ya'...if you behave, I'll make it quick."

A hint of guilt flashes over his face, as he calmly draws his bayonetts, thrill dampened by the tragic circumstances. He carefully, almost tenderly holds it against your neck, whispering "Rejoice, for I'll bring you salvation from this horrid fate."

Just when he takes a swing you seize the opportunity, ramming a sharp branch into his sides, right beneath the ribs. You had hoped to temporarily paralyze him, but much to your horror he didn't even flinch...

...moreso, he easily pulled it out of his flesh, the wound healing in an instant.

"Ye lil' rat..." the man practically growls, pupils dilated and baring his sharp canines at you.

"You...you're the monster here!" you shriek, grabbing a handful of dirt and throw it into his eyes, partially blinding him. He coughs, needing a few seconds to orientate, but when he looked again, you were already gone. "Feisty lil' thing...didn't think she had it in her."

Well, now he's not only pissed that you deceived him - he's downright excited. This mission had just become significantly more fun.

Anderson will relish in tearing you apart...slowly and painfully.

"Come out, ya heathen." His voice echoes through the woods, as if coming from all sides at once. "I can feel your fear."

What an amazing feat for a man of his calibre to move without making a sound. No leaves, not even a stick breaks as he walks, nothing indicating from what direction he might strike.

You see the town's lights at the horizon, limping as fast as your legs can carry you. If only you could make it out of here and call for help, then-

"Gotcha!" The priest's voice didn't even dring to your ear before he grabbed you by the throat, slamming you so hardly onto a nearby tree that all air left your lungs. Your head is spinning and you kick and claw at his arm, but his grip is relentless. He leans close to your ear, breath hot against your cold skin, making you shiver. "Stop resisting and accept your divine punishment."

"How...often...do I need to...tell you?" you wring out, feeling as if you're close to losing consciousness. "I-I am not a vampire, damnit!"

"Silence!" he now screams, sending a violent tremor through your body. "The dead do not speak...and their soulless bodies shouldn't roam this earth."

"Prove it, then" he taunts, "But I doubt ya' could."

Your mind went a mile an hour, scanning for everything you possibly knew about vampires, myth or not. Without any other options, you clasp the cross dangling from his neck. "I-I shouldn't be able to touch this, right?"

Powerful demons are able of many feats, but then again you don't seem even close to that level. Still, he senses some kind of greater scheme behind that innocent demeanour of yours.

Even while being practically invulnerable, Anderson won't let his guard down this time. He throws you to the ground, hurt pride recovering as he enjoys you writhe in pain. "Ye can't fool me again, fiend."

For the fraction of a second he is taken aback, seeing actual tears instead of red liquid escaping your eyes. He grunts in annoyance at this soft spot in his heart he never really could erase, janking you up by the hair. "Look at me..." he orders harshly, a sadistic glint in his eyes. "I love to watch the light go out."

Weighting your options you tackle him out of sheer exasperation, despite his strenght surprising the man enough to make him lose balance. Before he can react you sink your teeth deep into his neck, but without fangs you can't even break the skin. Anderson growls, no, almost moans at the sensation, shocked with the way his body reacted to the sudden proximity.

"See? See?" you point to your dull teeth, but the man is less than impressed by your drastic measurement.

"Bloody hell, woman! Get off of me!" he yells as he throws you away, now being on top and pining you down onto the damp grass, once again rendering you helpless. "I'm a man of god, do you have no shame?"

"What else was I supposed to do?!" you snap back at the man, chest heaving in between sobs. Anderson can barely contain his bloodlust, but beneath it there lies another kind of sensation he doesn't want to acknowledge. He seems flabbergasted by your boldness, contemplating whether to abandon his purge for now.

"Fine..." he rubs his temple, a headache forming as his gaze wanders to your quivering lips. "But I'll chain you up for examination. And don't you dare trying something funny again!"

"Alri-" Your words got stuck right in your throat, seeing red irises gleam in the dark from the corner of your eye. "Watch out, behind you!"

The priest narrows his eyes. "Oi c'mon, yer not really thinking I fall for this-" Your captor's words stuck right in his throat as a sword cut deeply into his neck - not enough to decapitate him though.

"Oh, I see you even brought me desert" a grim voice appeared behind the two of you. "How considerate, Father."

This was your chance, wasn't it? You could just run and leave them to themselves, hoping they'd busy each other in a fight long enough to return to safety.

And yet you don't.

"Shit, wai-wait..." you have to keep yourself from gagging as you pull out the cold steel from his flesh, watching as the tissue repaired itself like it was nothing. You threw the weapon right back at the attacker, though he catched it with ease and scattered it with his bare hands.

Anderson was quick to react, this time not taking any chances to debate if you're trustworthy. If you're really a civilian, he won't be able to fight as long as you're close. He throws some kind of artifact your way, a batch of enhanced bible verses and a flask of holy water just in case. "Run, you fool!"

The real vampire chuckles quite amused at the scene, overconfident and boastful now. "Noble one you are, eh? And I was so careful to set her up, too..."

"Good grace...you made me go after that woman?!" God's guillotine glares at him with a feral wrath, but the demon simply shrugs. "Townsfolk loves to gossip, and it's fairly easy to accuse someone that so deliberately making themselves an outcast."

"Quiet, you wicked hellspawn!" The priest's head cracks as he moved it from left to right, testing the healed muscles. "And my eye will not spare, nor will I have pity. I will punish you according to your ways, while your abominations are in your midst..."

"Amen!" you exclaim, and just when Anderson was about to launch an attack, something pierces the enemy from behind.

The priest gasps as he recognizes one of his own bayonetts, sticking out of the vampire's chest. You had plucked it from a nearby tree, returning instead of saving yourself.

Due to lack of both strenght and experience, you miss his heart by far. Luckily it was enough to distract the abomination, so Anderson set one swift finishing blow.

The otherworldly being instantly dissolves into ashes, and for a while you just stand there, staring at each other in awe.

Anderson is covered in blood now, his own as well as the demons. He's wheezing, breath visible as white fog and he snarls like a damn bloodhound, visibly dissatisfied with the outcome. To grant this creature such an easy demise left a foul aftertaste - he wanted to make it pay for using him to hurt an innocent bystander.

Damn it, he almost killed you!

You are still deeply in shock at the events, heart beating threateningly loud against your ears. Rooted on spot, you dread the worst when the priest approaches you. He reaches out and you wince, but he merely puts a reassuring hand on the top of your head. "That sure was reckless" he scolded, yet his lips curled into a proud grin. "I'm impressed."

In an instant his menacing aura had disappeared completely, being replaced with genuine concern. "Are you alright, lamb?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, instinctively moving away from your former attacker but stumbling again. Instead of falling however you were caught in the priest's strong arms, amazed at how fast he could move if he wanted to.

If he had taken you serious, you would never have survived this far. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"Come" he lifts you up with ease and you blink up at him between wettened lashes, far too exhausted to struggle any longer. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

Only now you realize that you were freezing, curling up against his body as he carried you bridal style to the motel room he had booked for the mission. A few minutes later you sit on a rundown mattress, knees pulled towards your chest as you tried to process the events of this night.

"Sorry for the wait" his voice shook you up as he entered the room, "Had to make a call and report back to the Vatican." You nod mutely and watch as he picks up a small first-aid-kit, kneeling down in front of you. "Show me yer' leg."

"H-He-e-ey!" you object as he tries to lift your dress out of the way, but he frowns as if you had just accused him of something horrible. "I already told you, woman: I am a man of god. So relax, would ya?" You pout but surrender, pulling the fabric aside yourself. "Just a wee lil' scratch, you're gonna be alright."

Trying to distract yourself from the pain your eyes dart around the room, but then they are stuck on the man himself, taking a proper look at him for the first time: Grey strands were shimmering through his wild blonde spikes, blueish-green eyes glistening behind round glasses. A deep scar adorned his left cheek, proof of his - at least past - humanity.

He had discarded his bloodied robe and gloves, revealing more muscle than his tall build indicated. You shiver as he absentmindedly squeezes your thigh, working with great concentration.

"I'm patching others up all day" he assures, filling the silence with small-talk. "The children at my orphanage hurt themselves quite often. Reckless folk."

"You-ah!" you hiss as he wipes the wound clean with more pressure, and you shudder. "You are working with children?"

"Yeah. What about it?" He furrowed his brows, looking downright offended and you couldn't help but snort. "Nothing, really. It's just...two vastly different professions, dont'cha think?"

"You're lucky I found my conscience today" he half-jokes, half-confesses. "Usually I don't care if a heathen get's hurt. Hell, I'd even do it myself." Wow. Very soothing, really. "But ya saved me and I guess it can't hurt to return the courtesy..."

At least he has some sense of honor.

"You got a foul mouth for a priest" you utter under your breath, but he catches it anyways. "And you got a lotta nerve running through the woods at night, dressed like a damn devil worshipper."

Momentarily, you both scowl at each other before breaking out in refreshing laughter.

"I'm not a satanist" you snort, but he won't have any of it. There's a literal pentagram embroidered on the chest piece of your dress, after all. "Then why do you dress like one?" Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms in defense. "It's a subculture, old man. A fashion style. And to my defenses, I didn't even know that any of the occult is real..."

Oh, if only you knew the true extent of evil in this world, you'd be terrified. Or maybe not? Iscariot could always use people with your guts, but he doesn't voice that thought.

If anything, you deserved a long and safe life.

"Hopeless task, making sinners see the light. That's why I prefer gutting them." He makes a dismissive wave of his hand, plummeting down on the bed right next to you. "All done." You smile as you let one hand run over the bandage, expressing your gratitude.

"...m'sorry, little one" he's not meeting your eyes anymore, forearms resting on his knees. "And thank you for helping a wrench like me despite my transgressions. Let's hope the lord will reward such actions."

"Yeah, maybe..." Actually you weren't that much of a believer - but hey, everything you just witnessed might make you pick up a bible soon.

"Do you want me to bring you somewhere?" You mentally consider an answer, but find no sufficient one. To be honest you didn't want to be alone right now. But there was no one you'd be comfortable to bother so late at night in case of friends, and no relatives lived nearby either.

But what's the alternaive? The man at your side surely has better things to do than babysitting you, even if he wasn't a stranger you just met...and almost got murdered by.

Noticing your distress, he wordlessly stood up, the mattress creaking as it was relieved from his massive weight. "Take the bed, I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Bu-but I couldn't possibly-"

"You can, and you will " he protests, "It's the least I can do to make up for what I've done."

"N-No!" you then shout, grabbing onto his sleeve. "I'd be damned if I let a holy man sleep on that small couch." He looks at you baffled, as if he cannot think of the obvious alternative. "Lay down, there's...there's enough room for both of us."

The man looks at you dumbfounded, making you chuckle. "What's the matter? You said you're a man of god, right?"

"...lil' brat."

Anderson sighed deeply, hesistant to do as you told him to. But eventually he gave in, lying on the other side of the bed so far away from you that he threatened to fall over the edge. Just the mere thought of this indecency made his heart beat uncontrollably loud in his chest. "What's your name?" he asks, so you don't notice.

"Y/N" you breathe out in a whisper, "Y/N Y/L/N." He repeats it, tasting the name on his tongue. It's as sweet as the sound of your voice. "What about you?"

"Anderson. Paladin Alexander Anderson" he corrects himself with his proper title. You smile to yourself, an oddly safe feeling encoating you with him at your side. "Well, despite everything, it was nice meeting you, Father Alexander Anderson."

"The pleasure is all mine."

Surprisingly, you had quickly drifted into a deep slumber, body desperate for rest. For a moment you thought it was all just a dream, an obscure nightmare, but then you realized where you were...and with whom.

"Alex- Father?" Your voice is husky and small against the sound of his soft snore in your ear, and instead of waking he shuffles even closer. The feeling of his broad chest against your back makes goosebumps raise on your skin, yet you refused to enjoy cuddling with a literal celibate.

Not wanting to embarrass him you try to scoot away, but the tall man has got you perfectly secure in his hold, an arm and leg wrapped around your much smaller form, tightening his embrace each time you moved. "Umm..." you turn to face him and dare to cup his cheek, gently caressing it to wake him up. His eyes snap open and he reflexively grabs your wrist, breathing heavily. "Hey, big guy, it's okay...good morning."

"What the-" Noticing the delicate situation he stumbles so far back that he lands ass-first on the floor, making you break out in boisterous laughter. "I'm so sorry" you wheeze, lending him a hand. "No idea how we ended up in that position."

Anderson lets out a low growl, stretching his back as he stood up. "I don't know about you" you teased, "But I've slept very well." He'd rather die than to admit he hasn't rested like that in years, if not decades. "...I'll make us breakfast" he announces grumpily, "Bath's on the left."

Shortly later you sit at the small kitchen table across each other, munching on stale toast. Since your clothes were torn and bloody Alex got you a spare shirt of his, long enough to cover you up to the knees. Gosh, if his superiors would see him being with a woman like that they'd probably excommunicate him.

"So..." you adress the elephant in the room, "When are you supposed to be back?"

"Already contacted the order while you were showering. Will be picked up in 30 minutes." Hearing this made you somewhat woeful. You'd wish to stay and riddle him about that amazing life of his, but were pretty sure he wasn't allowed to answer either way. You bite back the burning question if you'd ever meet again, simply answering "Oh...great."

"Promise me ya' will stay outta that devilish business, a'ight?" he grins almost mischievously, "Next time I see ya' tryna seduce innocent priests, I'll think you're a succubus."

You blow a raspberry at the man. "Me?!" You point a dramatic finger towards him, "Maybe you're the one enticing innocent maidens after saving them."

You both exchange smiles and meaningful looks, talking so carefree and enjoyable that time passed faster than you wanted.

"Here ya' go." He pushes some money into your palm, hand lingering on yours as long as he could allow himself to. "Call a taxi. The roads are dangerous for a sweet lil' thing like yerself."

"Thank you, Alex- I mean Father. For everything."

Six months later, Anderson was currently back at the orphanage from another mission, reading a novel in his room. He'd find his thoughts wandering back to you more often these days, having given up on his hopes that this feeling would ease over time.

Letting his free hand run over his neck where you bit him back then, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. What a woman you were. He's glad to have met you, and he'll at least allow himself to keep those memories locked in his heart forever.

"Father Anderson?" One of the nuns knocks on his door, tearing him away from those silly thoughts. "I'm here, yes."

"Someone wants a word with you" the woman explains as he sticks his head outta the slightly ajar door. She points towards the window in the hallway, whispering "Apparently about joining Iscariot. She's waiting outside in the garden."

"Understood. You may leave." Anderson was left confused but not for long - because as soon as he looked outside, he saw the last person he ever expected to see again. You timidly looked around, dressed in a black robe like usual, yet adorned with a silver cross instead of pentagrams and the likes.

Coincidentally you notice him standing at the window, eyes lighting up and waving eagerly at the man. It takes everything inside of him to not rush outside and pull you right into his arms after such a long time - at least in public he wouldn't.

Oh, he always knew you were special.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alexander anderson #alexander anderson x reader #oneshot #writing #reader insert

31 notes · View notes