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amourdivine · 4 months

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PAC ઉ YOUR CURRENT ENERGY!

Hello, lovelies, I know it has been some time, but I missed you. I hope everyone is doing ok these days. Let's look into your energy today, shall we?

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

pick a card masterlist & information

the piles.

1 → 2 3 → 4

how to choose your pile. take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

disclaimer. this is a general reading! tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.

PILE ONE

queen of cups ✧ death ✧ ace of swords ✧ the high priestess

Before I shuffled, I couldn’t help but feel lonely, like there’s this pang in my chest whenever I think of life and the current state of the world. It reminds me of the term “loneliness epidemic” and how so many of us are struggling to make friends or maintain pre-existing relationships. I think you are beginning to find emotional fulfillment in different things than you did before. Nothing may have worked out - at least, the things that used to work out aren’t working out anymore. There’s this voice inside of you begging for a new beginning, for clarity, and it’s slow but surely coming towards you. Where your energy is will wildly depend on how much you’ve listened to that inner voice already, but it’s a calling towards something new, regardless.

I think you’re scared because you haven’t done this before. You may be discovering things about yourself as well that are quite surprising, like new hobbies or gifts. It’s refreshing too, both painful and refreshing. Sort of like the concept of growing pains - growing up is not easy and there are no guidelines, no roadmaps. Often, we discover things through trial and error.

You may have withdrawn your energy as well, especially from old social circles. I get the feeling you were unsatisfied. Things felt stuck. They may still feel stuck, boring and completely lost in the routine of it all. It’s okay. You’re growing. Bones can hurt when they heal and grow. The same goes for you. I see snakes here, shedding their old skin. In your case, I don’t think you have found a “new skin” already, but you’ve shed your old life either way. It’s okay to want more, pile one. It’s okay to change. We’re ever-evolving. What suited you then won’t suit you now, that’s how life goes, with the changing of the seasons. It’s beautiful to witness - and when you look back you’ll realize just how much we can shift, how many places we’ll go and how much more there is to life than our old selves.

It’s okay to let it go. You’ll be okay even if the waters are muddy for now.

This is a very spiritual pile! Make sure to cater to your emotional and spiritual needs, taking care of your physical body and being around soothing, comforting or quiet places while you tend to this new self.

channeled messages & songs: white snakes, ring, scarf, life path 8 (or 8 in general), silver jewelry, bodies of water, sleeping, bed-rotting, kundalini awakening, modern loneliness by lauv, scorpio, pisces and cancer, hermitting, social batteries, introvert, epiphany, books, the bible, prophetic dreams, chocolate, ego death.

PILE TWO

six of cups ✧ the hanged man ✧ eight of cups ✧ seven of wands

You are returning to yourself, it feels like a sort of homecoming. Fighting for your peace while, at the same time, learning to accept what you can’t control. You have walked away from old beliefs, from restraints of the past and renewing your faith in yourself. Even the picture you’ve chosen is a close-up of someone’s outfit walking away. You’ve found dignity and you’re not willing to sacrifice it anymore. Maybe you’ve left a situationship or relationship that was draining you, molding you into someone you weren’t. Props to you for that. It’s not easy and I know it.

Your guides are proud - they’re very serious and regal. They think you deserve more than what you’ve had. Not in a self-serving way, don’t mistake it for self-indulgence, but in a human, dignified way. They see you as royalty, too. They don’t want you to settle for breadcrumbs in life anymore. No matter how difficult it’s been, they don’t want you to stop believing that things can get better.

For most of you, this is a time when you’re shifting into a more peaceful but assertive phase. You’re taking charge of your joy, your future and your responsibilities without clinging to self-blame or guilt. Maybe it took you a long time. I heard “recovery” in my mind and this has possibly something to do with a specific illness or disease you’ve battled for so long. There’s a huge feeling of relief, of taking a long breath after a tiring day.

It’s okay, you’re home now, you’re safe now. You can relax. You’ve got this, pile two.

channeled messages & songs: therapy, journaling, barbie or baby doll, sage green, green tea, pastels, tiktok, doomscrolling, healing, “i’m not the girl i used to be”, rainbow by kacey musgraves, self-acceptance, shadow work, “i’m still standing”, camping, nature, libra and taurus.

PILE THREE

three of swords ✧ the hermit ✧ the star ✧ queen of pentacles

Your heart is broken. Someone or something has left you to lick your wounds and tend to the bruises they gave you. You’re in pain, so much pain that it may be unbearable to wake up everyday. You’re questioning your worth, your self-esteem has crumbled.. and you don’t want anyone to find you, to see you in such a vulnerable state. All you do now is hope for better days, pray a rainbow comes after the storm because the current is heavy and has taken you astray.

Unfortunately life can’t always be what we want or expect. Allow room for these heavy emotions - this too shall pass. It’s okay to be disappointed, to feel betrayed and hurt by what happened. If the ground was pulled beneath your feet, was it ever really that solid to begin with?

This is the aftermath of something painful. And that’s okay. You can’t force yourself to feel good. In the meantime, you can take it slow, nurture the hope for better days and hold onto it. I know we tend to view hope as mostly something negative and passive, but you can take baby steps towards emotional fulfillment. The Queen of Pentacles suggests you take it slow - there is no rush to healing, nothing to be accomplished, there is nothing for you to prove. You’re human, and therefore, worthy of compassion, patience and healing. Remember the Wheel of Fortune: what comes up must go down, what goes down must go up eventually. You’ll feel better, pile three. I promise.

channeled messages & songs: taking a walk, flower pot, cacti, heartbreak anthems, olivia rodrigo, punk rock, “i’m angry all the time”, hurts like hell by fleurie, capricorn, saturn, personal year 5, backstabbing, depression, navy blue by muna.

PILE FOUR

the hanged man ✧ the hierophant ✧ six of pentacles ✧ the star

You’re learning and teaching. Giving and receiving. Letting the scales balance themselves out, remembering that balance is not always fifty fifty. All the piles have had somewhat similar themes, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you have felt drawn to either pile one or two, but this one feels like a continuation of it, so it could be that you’re transitioning from one to another. Naturally, please take only what resonates for you!

You may have found a new job, a stable relationship, a good circle of friends. You know, despite the positive feeling of these cards, I can’t help but wonder if you’re waiting for it all to crumble again, feeling like the shadows of your past are going to haunt you forever. I keep wondering if you’re okay, I keep wanting to ask you. You’re scared, you’ve got your guard up. You can’t really trust it will last - and while it’s true that it all comes and goes, you can trust nothing is ever wasted.

Let your guard down. Not everyone has your worst interests in their heart. Maybe self-isolation suited you before, didn’t it? You weren’t used to being loved, you still aren’t. But you still deserve it. Sometimes it’s easier to endure the hard things because they’re all we expect. It’s difficult to take in the good things, isn’t it? To feel worthy of them. To realize there is more to life than survival. You’re finally living now - and that’s a good thing. Uncertainty is scary, but in a way, so is the familiarity of hurt, of unrequited lovers and callous friendships. Are you ready to be loved, pile four? You can ask for the good times as much as you want, but when it is here, you have to remember to enjoy it, to not be on the lookout for the bad things so much.

We’re rarely in control. I know it’s difficult, but that’s often a good thing. Not being in control means you can worry less. You can fret less. You can take it day by day, knowing that the outside forces will do what they must and we’re all silly little souls on a giant floating rock.

PS: You’re doing well, I promise.

channeled messages & songs: self-sabotage, nightmares, attachment issues, bulletproof by la roux, bones, candles by daughter, earrings, 2024 planner, five year plan, entj, istj, quiet singing, “the pen is mightier than the sword”, studying, sweater weather, stress cleaning, autumn girl.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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homelander x f!reader 18+ 6.2k, predator/prey, consensual non-consent, dirty talk, cockwarming, outdoor sex, oral sex, there's a lot. check ao3 for full tag list. shout out to @mari-thesimp and @whatevermonkey for the prompts that inspired this fic!

Summary: You ask Homelander to chase you through the woods and thoroughly ravish you, making sure to ignore any protests. He takes the role very seriously. AO3 Link.

Nothing could have prepared you for the reality of this moment. The chase had sounded like such lighthearted fun in theory. A jaunt through the forest with your superpowered boyfriend never far behind, pursuing you through the woods. Upping the ante by agreeing to do it at night seemed, at the time, like simply removing the training wheels. You were wrong. The pound of your heart nearly drowns out the sound of branches and woodland debris snapping under foot as you run blindly through the woods, the moon above barely serving illumination through the dense tree canopy. What you hadn’t realized at the start of all this was that your body wouldn’t know the difference between running for your life for fun, and running for your life for real.

A blast as sharp as a gunshot whips by overhead, bowing the trees with the force of it and startling a scream out of you. The startle causes you to lose your footing, and your momentum is too great to catch yourself. You hurdle forwards, rolling end over end into the mess of brambles, landing flat on your back, gasping for breath. You hear the thud of something landing in the distance. You lay there a moment, brain frantically recalibrating while you stare up at the dense tree cover, trying to catch your breath. That’s when a new sound cuts through the ambient sounds of the forest; someone whistling a cheery little melody. Shortly after that, you begin to hear footsteps. “You made it further than I thought you would,” Homelander calls into the night, his chipper tone replacing that jaunty whistle. “But c’mon. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

You scramble to your feet, bracing against a tree to look wildly around yourself. It’s too dark to even make out his silhouette, but what you see instead turns your insides to ice. Maybe twenty feet away, two glowing red eyes cut through the black of the night, peering around until, abruptly, they lock onto you. The glow of them is just enough to illuminate the way Homelander’s lips pull into a sharp smile. “Got’cha.” Immediately, you take off running. There’s no thought behind it, nothing but the pure animalistic panic to escape. He may be the love of your life, but that was terrifying. The dense treeline breaks into a clearing, and you run for the path of least resistance, even as your muscles scream. A small hill near a babbling stream catches your eye, and though every breath you suck back makes your lungs burn, you push yourself to it, desperate for a place to hide. You skid to a stop just beyond the hill, and then hurl yourself back against it, clamping both hands over your mouth, screwing your eyes shut as you desperately try to quiet yourself.

The agreement was that Homelander would not utilize his x-ray vision. Your only hope was that the sound of the stream might mask the thunder of your heart beating in your chest. In this state of flight, you find it impossible to gauge the passage of time. It might be seconds that pass, it might be minutes. You can’t fathom it. Either way, it isn’t long before you begin to hear heavy booted footsteps crunching through the underbrush. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Homelander's voice rings out, that wicked smile audible in his tone. "You can come easy, or you can come hard. You're mine either way." You bite into your own hand, tucking yourself further in against the grassy mound. His words hurl you into a dizzying haze of panic and excitement, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting, unsure if you should be running from or towards the honied voice calling you from the shadows. Abruptly, the sound of footsteps stops, and you are left with nothing but the thrum of your heartbeat, and the burble of the stream.Time passes, but still you hear nothing. Tentatively, you peer out around the edge of the mound, into the clearing where you heard him approaching. Seeing nothing, you cautiously rise to your feet and crane to get a better look. Empty. There isn’t a trace of him anywhere. There’s more light in the clearing, lending a touch to your bravery. You don’t need the cue of his eyes to see him here, but the fact he’s disappeared somewhere into the treeline worries you. You glance down to the river. Perhaps your sound-based subterfuge was successful, and he believes you kept moving forward. You take the opportunity to backtrack, and hopefully throw him off your trail. After all, if you get back to the cabin by yourself, you win this little game.

Not wanting to run the risk of him hearing you, you pick up a modest trot back towards the thicket you had emerged from. Reaching out to brace your hand on a passing tree, you scream when a crimson gloved hand closes suddenly around your wrist, another hand catching you around the waist and yanking you backwards, lifting you clean off your feet, and up into the air with him. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Not so quick. We haven’t even gotten to enjoy the view together yet,” he says, his words warm huffs in your ear, prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. You thrash against him with everything you have in you, but you may as well be pounding against pure steel. He’s unyielding. Homelander drops back down onto the ground, and with unbelievable ease, spins you around to pin your back against the tree. Slotting his thigh between your legs, Homelander lifts you with just that. Effortlessly catching both of your wrists in a single hand, he traps them up above your head. He leans forward, his knee braced against the tree. “There’s my girl,” he purrs, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. Any other day, you would lean into it. The rumble of his voice when he calls you his never fails to make you melt. Right now, however, the two of you are playing a game, and you aren’t going to be the one to ruin it.

You yank your face away from his hand, leaning as far as you can to the side. “Let me go,” you gasp, still thoroughly out of breath. “Mm, nope, no. That… That I don’t think I’ll ever do,” he says, catching your jaw tight between his leather clad fingers, yanking you back to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes, which flare a dim crimson. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.” Homelander kisses you hard, swallowing up the cry you give. You nearly succumb, you almost kiss him back before you remember yourself. Instead, you twist as violently as you can in his grasp, trying anything you can to gain leverage, but nothing works. He has you lifted off your feet, and he’s pressed in too close for you to utilize your legs against him. Meanwhile, he relishes your struggle. You can feel him smiling against your lips, followed by the hot wet press of his tongue. You yield to him only for the opportunity to bite down hard on the appendage. It’s soft beneath your teeth, but it doesn’t give. There’s nothing you could do that would damage him.

Homelander hums a delighted little noise, breaking the kiss. His smile is like that of a wolf, fangs and all. “Now you’re really getting me excited,” he says, punctuating it with a slow grind up between your legs, startling a moan out of you. He lets go of your face in favor of dragging his hand down your body, cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing, making you keen. “I was gonna be a gentleman and take you back to the cabin, but if you’re gonna behave like a fucking animal–” he says, his rich, molasses sweet voice veering into a rough growl as he rips your shirt wide open, exposing your chest to the night chill, “–then I will gladly fuck you in the dirt like one.” Struggling against him only intensifies the friction of his thigh against your pussy, your clit throbbing against firm muscle behind the confines of your pants. You turn your head away as he kisses down your throat, wringing a gasp out of you when he bites down. You feel him chuckle against your skin, dragging his tongue over the stinging mark, his soft hair tickling along your jaw. “So, what’ll it be? You gonna behave for me?” He asks, drawing back to meet your stare. The question makes you ache, worsens the throb of your clit against his thigh. His perfect blonde locks are set askew now, giving him an untamed look. You feel as wild as he appears. Heart thundering in your chest, you make a play without a second thought, and you spit in his face, spattering the corner of his mouth and his cheek.

For a split second, Homelander looks sincerely shocked, his eyes wide. Slowly, he begins to laugh. The sound of it rolls chills all the way down your spine. You’ve never heard him sound this menacing. His tongue darts out to lick away the mess of it from the corner of his mouth. Pulling one of your hands down from above your head, he uses your palm to wipe it clean, turning his face to nuzzle into your hand, despite how you try to close it from him. When he looks at you, his pupils have reduced the blue of his eyes to a thin ring, making his eyes look almost completely black. His sharp grin has turned him wholly into a predator. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, voice pitched low. Faster than you can track, he dips down and hauls you up over his shoulder with ease, that abysmal eagle pauldron digging into your side as he carries you back into the clearing. You ball up your fists and pound on his back with every ounce of strength you have in you, twisting against his grip on your legs, but nothing fazes him. “Scream all you want, sweetheart,” he laughs, giving your ass an indulgent smack. “No one to hear it but me.” Homelander hurls you forward, and though you hit the ground much more gently than you braced for, the motion is no less disorienting. Sprawled on your back, you move to roll over, but a sudden weight on your thigh stops you. You look down and see his muddy red boot pressed firmly there, pinning you. Above, you hear the familiar sound of him unzipping his pants. Once his cock is free, Homelander grips it with a heated sigh, staring down at you through heavily lidded eyes. His lips are parted, and you can see the sharp edges of his canines glinting in the light of the moon. “Look at you, such a fucking mess,” he says, pumping his cock in slow, even slides of his hand. He’s already fully hard, the engorged head of his cock leaking drops of precome with every stroke. You can feel how bad he wants you in the way he watches you, the way his breath hitches. He looks like a wild animal drooling over a fresh cut of meat.

You writhe beneath him, but the weight of his boot alone is more than enough to keep you in place. “Please,” you whine, fighting to keep the desire out of your voice. “Please don’t, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone–” “Ssshhhhh, shhh,” Homelander hushes, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. “I know you won’t.” Reaching out, Homelander bends at the waist and lifts his boot off of you just before he catches a handful of your hair, maneuvering you up onto your knees. The way he handles you is exceedingly gentle. He has no need for rough or forceful movements when his strength can bend steel. You have no choice but to move with him. “I’m gonna give you one chance to redeem yourself, alright?” Holding you steady, Homelander guides you to his cock, arching your head back with his grip in your hair. “Open up, pretty girl,” he croons, the only warning he gives before shoving his cock between your lips, smearing precome along your tongue, all the way to the back of your throat. The salt-sex taste of him is immediately intoxicating, and though you gag at the sudden intrusion, you suck him down without meaning to, reflexively swallowing. “Ffffuck, ah, hah, that’s it. Mmm, such a natural little cockslut. Taste good, sweetheart?” He asks, positively destroying you. He’s never called you anything like that before, but the ease with which he says it now makes it sound like the hundredth time. You want to hear it again. You make a sound that’s close to a moan, pushing your hands against his thighs, digging your nails into the padding of his suit. Letting go of his cock, he cups the side of your face, and picks up a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking your mouth shallowly.

With his thumb, Homelander caresses your lips, following the line of them where they stretch wide around his dick. He’s entranced by you, watching with endless intensity. Your jaw is slack, drool coating his cock as he fucks your mouth. “Ohhh, fuck. Fuck, look at you. Wanted it all along, didn’t you? I can smell your pussy, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me.” He fucks deeper, and you stifle the gag this time. Your eyes well with tears that collect on your lashes, weighing them down against your cheeks. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels so good, you lose yourself briefly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be putting up a fight. This time, you let yourself gag when he pushes in deep, and you try to pull off of him, fighting back against the hand he’d flattened at the back of your skull. “No, no, sshh, not yet. Almost there,” he says, tightening his grip in your hair, his voice fraying as he begins to come apart. He starts thrusting faster, adjusting his hands to hold either side of your head, using you so thoroughly that you feel like a fucking toy in his hands. Your breaths become shallower, short little gasps between the frenzied snaps of his hips. “Aaalmost there. That’s it, take it, taking it so fuckin’ good. Knew you could, baby.” Between the praise and lack of air, you’re starting to feel lightheaded. You’re not fighting against him anymore, but instead gripping his thighs for dear life, eyes rolling back into your skull. You feel like you’re floating in and out of your physical body, barely tethered to reality.

Homelander comes with a choked-off noise, shoving you all the way down onto his cock. You don’t even taste the come, you just feel the heavy pulses of his cock against your tongue, the heat of it sliding down your throat, warming you from the inside out. Just when you’re starting to feel like you might pass out, Homelander pulls out of your mouth, holding you as you cough wetly. You gulp down breath after breath, gradually coming down from your delirium. Homelander strokes your hair through it, breathing heavily through his own aftershocks. “Now there’s a redemption arc,” he says through a breathy little chuckle. He lets go of your hair so that he can tuck himself loosely back into his pants. Before you can get any ideas, Homelander knocks you backwards, visibly pleased by the easy way you sprawl out on your back, still dazed. Crouching down, he gets a good grip on the hips of your pants, and with a swift outward pull on either side, rips them clean apart, along with your underwear, leaving just the scraps of them hanging off your thighs, fully exposing your pelvis. Inhaling deeply, Homelander’s smile is downright predatory. “My turn,” he says, hooking your legs up over his shoulders, leaving just your upper back touching the ground below. He takes hold of your hips, and lifts you up to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he moans like a man mad with hunger as he drags his tongue through the slick mess of your cunt, closing his lips around your clit.

You arch your back with a cry, pushing into the wet heat of his mouth. He’s ruthless in the way he feasts on you, plunging his tongue into you and lapping up every drop he can coax out. When he’s gotten all he can, he goes back up to your clit and sucks, swirling his tongue over it, reducing you to a whimpering mess. He laps at your clit until there’s more sweet slick for him to drink up from your pussy, fucking you with his tongue, demanding more. Homelander gets his wish when you come, an explosion of pleasure that radiates through your entire body. Your thighs lock up on either side of his head, squeezing him tight, but all he cares about is the rush of your release that spills down his chin, wetting him so thoroughly the excess drips onto the ground below. He swallows every drop that he can. He groans with it, licking eagerly between the quivering lips of your cunt. Your orgasms have always driven him insane, the flood of endorphins making you taste fucking exquisite. Suddenly the ground falls out beneath you as Homelander stands up, leaving you hanging in his grasp as he devours you, your moans of pleasure rapidly dissolving into broken sobs, overwhelmed with sensation. “S-stop,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his wrists. “Too much, please, it’s too much.”

Homelander’s only response is a rough little shake of his head, nuzzling into your pussy, lapping up the aftermath of your orgasm and rapidly hurdling you hot and heavy towards another one, your hips convulsing against him entirely of their own accord. “Please, oh god, please stop!” You cry, voice raw. You hang helplessly in his grip, squirming with nowhere to go. He’s got you dangling precariously on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, the sensations so intense that they almost burn. “S-stop! It’s too much! Please!” You have a safe word, you and he both know you could save yourself if you wanted to, but the reality is that you don’t. It feels good to beg for what you know he will not give you. You’re starting to feel dizzy, hanging upside down, gasping for breath as he continues to gorge himself on you. He drags his tongue up and down, drawing deft figure eights before sucking your clit, pressing his tongue firmly to it. You come again, and this time the experience is so overwhelming, you scream.

Falling limp, all you can muster are weak, oversensitized noises. Your body spasms involuntarily while Homelander licks you through the aftermath of your orgasm, milking every last drop of it. He finishes with a refreshed, wet exhale, audibly licking his lips of the mess while you dangle in his grasp. Gingerly, he lowers you back down onto the grassy forest floor, slipping out from between your legs to loom over you. Your brain is so addled, it takes you ages to realize that he’s kissing you, licking your own flavor into your mouth. You whimper when you feel his ungloved fingers brush your overstimulated cunt, the contact making you jolt. He clicks his tongue softly. “Look what you did,” he murmurs between kisses, plunging his fingers into you, despite your weak protest. You’re so wet, the slide of them is a frictionless ache. You whine into the press of his lips. “You went and got me hard again,” he sighs, as if you’ve inconvenienced him. “Now I have to fuck your pretty pussy.”

Homelander’s fingers pump in and out of you, the sound of it obscene and wet. Your breath hitches, and you try to protest, but his gloved hand falls over your lips, silencing you.

“Shhh, shh. Save it, sweetheart. Save it for my cock.” His fingers sink in deep, and your lashes flutter, eyes nearly rolling back into your skull. Already, you’re aching to feel him deeper. All you can do is whimper into the warm leather of his glove, squirming under the weight of his hold while his fingers work you open. While it’s a reprieve for your thoroughly used clit, the expert way he crooks his fingers inside you already has you fighting the climb of another orgasm. So much so that when he slips his fingers out, you whine, the sound of it bordering on a sob. Nothing happens for the next couple of seconds. Uncertain, you open your eyes, and find Homelander staring down at you. There is a slight tenseness to his expression, an expectation you can see in his gaze as you meet it. His hand is still over your mouth, but his other hand has settled on your thigh, thumb stroking your bare skin in minute movements. You can see the question written in his eyes clear as day; You okay?

The way he looks at you settles something warm deep in your core, chasing the night chill and leaving only the heat between your bodies. You break character for just a second, and give him a slight nod. In an instant, Homelander flips like a switch back into a stranger, the change subtle and yet glaringly obvious to you. You gasp when he pulls his hand from your mouth to flip you over, the smell of fresh grass pungent as he pushes your head down, lifting your ass up into the air. “That’s better,” he purrs, effortlessly slipping back into character. The cold, dangerous edge to his tone makes your stomach clench in a giddy blend of anxiety and excitement. With one hand braced on the back of your head, Homelander grips his cock in the other, and guides it to the soaked, velvety lips of your pussy. He drags the head of his cock up and down, smearing it through the wet mix of his saliva and your own slick. You jerk involuntarily when he rubs it against your sensitive clit, whimpering.

You feel overworked, but Homelander has made it clear he’s only just getting started. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on the thick head of his cock, moaning a low cuss under his breath. His powers protect him from pain, but not pleasure, and you’re not the only one affected by the aftermath of your release. Regardless, he moves his bare hand to your hip, and holds you steady as he sinks the rest of the way into you in one slow, agonizingly good slide, finally reaching that aching itch deep inside you. “Nnnngh, please,” you moan, screwing your eyes tightly shut. “Please what?” Homelander prompts, giving a deep little thrust that startles another pitchy sound out of you. “Go on, beg for it. I want to hear you beg for my cock like a good little slut,” he says, the low snarl of his voice–his words–paired with the heat and weight of him inside you making you delirious. He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, the wet slide of his fingers making you cry out, writhing against him. He rocks you back on his cock, fucking right into your cervix. “No sense denying it now. So goddamn wet for me. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a cheap whore. Beg. Beg me to fuck you stupid.”

Whatever few strands you had left tethering you snap. The degradation, the truth in his words, the transcendent agony of pleasure taken too far all tip you over the edge of sanity and reason. Shame and arousal burn you in equal measure. “Please fuck me stupid,” you obediently beg, tears gathering in your eyes not from pain, but sheer overwhelm. You barely get the words out. Homelander starts to fuck you in earnest, groaning at your plea, at the complete crumble of your resolve. “Use me.” The noise Homelander makes at that is animalistic, caught somewhere between a groan and a growl. He shifts his hand from your head to your shoulder and grips tight, gloved fingers biting into the meat of you as he yanks you back onto his cock, picking up a relentless rhythm that punches the air right out of your lungs with every snap of his hips. All the while, his fingers grind against your clit with every thrust, surging you up towards the release previously abandoned.

“Fuck,” Homelander rasps, practically trembling with restraint. Despite the brutal way he’s fucking you, you know it’s nothing compared to what he could do. You can feel pressure building rapidly between your thighs, each thrust like the strike of a match inside you, igniting more and more heat. You can’t move, pinned between his hand on your shoulder and the crack of his hips against your ass. All you can do is endure him as your orgasm builds, whatever scarce breaths you can manage to inhale leave you as sharp little whimpers. “Don’t fight it. Feels good, I know it does. You’re taking me so good. Fucking made for me. C’mon, do it. Let me feel you come on my cock.” Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice as wave after wave of mind blowing pleasure rolls through you. You hear Homelander give a choked off noise as he fucks you through it, your cunt seizing around him so tightly it catches him off guard. He doesn’t stop, instead moving faster, reducing you to a keening mess, limp in the grass. He uses you until on a final thrust, you feel him still, followed by a rush of heat so intense it nearly feels a burn inside you. Your whole body shudders, and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all.

Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of Homelander pressed against your back, sinking down against you, grounds you. You whisper the safeword you’ve been diligently holding onto, and just like that, the game is over. Homelander pushes a hand through your hair, kissing a trail from your neck to your ear, gently adjusting your head on the ground. He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, bent over you, the wet weight of his cock still buried deep and warm inside you. He’s panting softly in your ear between kisses, the breaths catching every so often, still reeling from his own release.

Tenderly, he lifts off of you, and withdraws from inside you, hissing a soft breath as he does. The mess he left inside you trails hot, wet streaks down your thighs. You wince at the loss of him, nearly collapse without his hands on you, but he holds you steady with a hand on your hip while he adjusts himself.

You’re practically dead weight as he rolls you over, hovering over you with a hand in the grass, next to your head. You smile up at him, lazy and still dazed. He returns it, the corners of his eyes crinkling generously as he strokes your cheek with his bare knuckles, analyzing your expression. “Was I good?” He asks, the tone of his voice leagues and miles away from what it had been. He sounds tentative now, curious, a little hopeful. “Good?” You echo, borderline offended he would use such a meager word to explain the most intense sexual experience of your life. “That was… you were… amazing,” you tell him breathlessly, mustering the strength to push a hand into his mussed hair, your lids feeling heavy as you blink. “I can’t feel my legs, and I think you bruised my cervix,” you admit, to which he looks sheepish, but you continue, “And I’ve never felt more incredible in my life.”

Homelander visibly preens at that, his eyes narrowing, lips curving into a small smile. He leans in to nuzzle at your neck, inhaling deeply. You offer a few more strokes through his hair, but the muscles in your arm protest enough that you drape it over his neck instead, sighing. He takes that as his cue to scoop you up into his arms, your limbs dangling like cooked noodles. He floats to his feet, settling back down on the ground with you nestled snug against his chest. “C’mon,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” ~~~~~~ Back at the cabin, Homelander is quick to start a hot bath running. The only garment of yours to survive was your bra, but even then, you and it are thoroughly grass strained. Homelander helps you sink into the oversized jacuzzi bath, chuckling at the exaggerated moan you give as the heat washes over you. It feels like heaven on your aching legs. The water sloshes to and fro as Homelander joins you, sliding up to you right away. Baths have always been both of your preferred methods of aftercare, where you can recover from his strength and he can luxuriate in this intimate form of pampering. Automatically, Homelander pulls you in to straddle his lap, the water making you both feel weightless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you go about wetting his hair, massaging his scalp. He moans when you begin to work in the shampoo next, dragging your nails all the way down to the back of his neck. He’s much leaner without the suit. You sweep your hands down his shoulders, following the trail of wiry muscle to his back. His body relaxes gradually beneath your touch, breathy little sighs escaping him. He makes you feel like you’re playing an instrument, and you know precisely where to touch to draw out the right note. Neither of you speak much during the bath. Your limbs are heavy, muscles tired, and the narrow space between your bodies feels too quiet and intimate for words.

You take your time conditioning his hair, and he wrings soft moans from you when he massages wash into your shoulders, mindful of how they ache. He’s deft with his hands, impeccably aware of his strength. It thrills you a little every time you remember how different he was in the woods, how wild and brutal he had felt. Once you’re both clean and satisfied, the bed calls your name as hypnotically as any siren. You’re the first to slip under the covers, immediately relieved to be off of your feet, your legs still shaky. Homelander follows shortly after. He’s always been clingy, but tonight especially, he’s practically glued to you. When he slides into bed, he doesn’t cuddle in next to you, but instead lays himself over you, nestling between your legs so that he can rest his head on your chest. You smile down at him. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” he rumbles, moving his hand to rest near his face, just over the beat of your heart.

Silence hangs heavily in the air. Sensing there’s more to it, you press, “Do you want to talk about tonight?”

Homelander is quiet for a moment longer. “You were scared.”

“Being chased was scary, yes,” you admit, combing your fingers through his hair. “That was the intention, though.”

“Were you scared of me?”

You pause. There’s something vulnerable in his voice—anxiety, perhaps—that he’s halfheartedly trying to mask, but you see through it. You give yourself time, wanting to answer the question with the thought it deserves, but Homelander doesn’t take the silence well. He lifts his head to scrutinize your expression, brows pinched. “You were scared of me.”

“You scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of you,” you correct him, settling your hand over top of his. “I liked it. In the same way I like movies that make me scream, or roller coasters. You scared me, and I loved it,” you say, bringing up both hands to cup his face, emphasizing your words by pulling him into a kiss. He moves easily, pushing into the kiss, needy for the assurance you offer. Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you ask him, “Did you like it?”

Homelander licks his lips, sliding his arm under you as he settles back in against your chest. “Yeah. It was… fun. Raw. I didn’t know you could act like that. Might have to get you a role in Vought’s next production,” he says, giving your collarbone a playful little nuzzle. “No thanks, I’d rather be waterboarded,” you reply with a laugh, earning a low chuckle from him. You stroke him from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his neck, and then back up. “I’m glad you had fun. I know that I was asking a lot of you with it.” He’s quiet for a moment, head resting heavy on your chest. He rubs his cheek against your skin. “I really liked it. But if it goes too far, and you see something in me that you don’t like, and I see you scared of me, even when we’re not playing, it…” the sentence trails off. You feel his grip around you tighten reflexively, and you can only imagine what awful scenario he’s playing in his mind. “John,” you call gently, though your tone is firm, catching his attention immediately. He tips his head back to look up at you. “I promise you, there is nothing you would do to me that could change the way I feel about you. I love you. I worship you, John. That’s what love means to me. Reverence. You didn’t want to hurt me tonight, did you?”

“No,” he answers quickly, enraptured by you, by your words. “But I did.” “Only as much as I asked you to,” you soothe, stroking along the side of his face. “You would have stopped if I said the word, right?” Homelander nods, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You checked in on me, too. If anything, all tonight did was show me how much I don’t need to be afraid of you.”

Looking at you, there is a magnitude of emotion in Homelander’s eyes that is difficult to put into words. You realize immediately just how badly he needed to hear every word you’ve said. He has always thrived on your words, on your loving deeds, but tonight they scrape him particularly raw. There are times when you think the depths of his need for you scares even him. Homelander kisses a path from your collarbone to the space between your breasts, slow, deeply affectionate. Where you most easily show your worship in words, he shows his in touch. He strokes a hand down your side, to your outer thigh, squeezing it against him, like he simply cannot be close enough. “Come here,” you murmur, nudging him with your leg. “Let me warm you.” Homelander glances up at that, his lips twitching in a small, pleased smile. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirm, encouraging him with another little nudge. Of all the tricks you’ve introduced him to, this has been his favorite by far. Licking his lips eagerly, Homelander shifts, lifting himself to grab the lube from the bedside table, dispensing enough to slick his cock up. He uses what remains on his fingers in you, sliding his slick fingers into you with ease, earning a sharp little inhale from you before you relax into it. Once you’re properly wetted, he carefully slides his cock into you, less than half hard, but that isn’t the intent. Though you’re still tender, once he settles against you, the fervid weight of him inside feels divine. Having him inside always feels as though you are kindling a live flame within you.

“Mm, that’s it. Feel good?” You ask, kissing his forehead. Homelander nods, slotted against you as perfectly as a matching jigsaw piece. He turns his head to kiss your breast, transitioning quickly from that to closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking gently. You flex your grip in his hair, sighing in pleasure. “I still need to rest, you know. We can’t all have super stamina,” you remind him with an amused little smile.

“So rest,” he says dismissively, gaze flickering up to meet yours. He kisses your breast reverently before placing his head back down, staring up at you with such utter contentment, you feel the warmth of it to your core. “I can be patient.” In other words, he’ll wait as long as he can before the temptation grows too great. The thought of waking to him taking advantage of you like that broils a little fire of your own in your gut, and you laugh softly, nodding. “Okay. Wake me in a few hours. Be creative,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. Homelander’s lips curl deviously. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Eventually, your exhaustion wins over the giddiness of what’s to come. Homelander is a comforting weight against you, the heat of him chasing any and all chill from you, and you drift into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever known.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #smut #oh my god it's DONE #not to toot my own horn but i am supremely proud of this one haha #my writing #hide and seek

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shadowshrike · 5 months

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Astarion on Halsin Leaving

I can't stop thinking about Astarion's lines when Halsin chooses to leave your party, so have a fun mini-analysis. Note that this text is pulled via datamining because I don't have all the appropriate saves atm. Since the context of your personal story is everything in this game and can wildly change how lines come across, please take my thoughts here as a fun exercise with the text and nothing more.

I think the things that are needed to fully understand where my head is at regarding his lines are two fold:

1. How Astarion talks about other companions leaving

Shadowheart and Wyll can both also leave in Act 2. His responses are as follows.

Astarion: I don't see what Shadowheart got so upset about - it was not that nice of a temple.

For Shadowheart he gently deflects the crux of the matter. This isn't surprising because he is a master of minimizing other people's grievances when he thinks they're legitimate but inconvenient. Otherwise, he responds fairly mildly.

Astarion: So, that's how the legend ends. The Blade of Frontiers, cast down to the Hells. Hardly a fitting ending. But so few are.

Unlike Shadowheart, Wyll is forced to leave by being dragged to the hells. There's no justification he needs to rebuff for Wyll leaving the party's side, so instead, he uses it to double down on his philosophy that 'nice guys finish last and the world is a dangerous and horrible place.' Which, ironically, is not entirely unreasonable given the circumstances.

2. How other companions talk about Halsin leaving

The Good companions don't blame Halsin for leaving. Wyll even blames himself for not doing enough. Karlach also regrets the loss of another strong person around, reminding us once again that Halsin is physically imposing in the narrative, even if the stats say otherwise because of how D&D balance works.

Gale: Druids will always follow nature's purpose over any mortal threat. Halsin goes where he is needed, as must we.

Jaheira: Halsin long urged the Harpers not to abandon this land to the curse. I cannot blame him, for being unable to bear it a second time.

Wyll: I can't blame Halsin for leaving. We could have, should have, done more for him and for the cursed lands. They may never again feel the breathe of life on them. What a shame.

Karlach: Pity about Halsin. I was getting used to having an extra Strong around. He smelled nice, too. Like outside.

(Fun fact regarding Karlch's comment: Astarion has a line where he refers to Halsin as "musky bear-fellow" - musky is also the word used to describe the attractive smell of corpse flowers - and Halsin's underwear smells like an herb garden according to its flavor text. Apparently, the guy canonically smells really good?)

Even Shar Path Shadowheart expresses regret in losing Halsin. Not because she wants to end the Shadow Curse, but because Halsin's nice to look at.

Shadowheart: This land remains cloaked by Lady Shar's power - good. A shame it cost us Halsin as a travelling companion though. He may have been misguided, but I liked looking at him.

That brings us to...

Astarion's tantrum over Halsin leaving

Go ahead and listen to it yourself first, and then I'll dive into both lines.

Astarion: Just like that hulking bear to stomp off in a huff. I swear, druids care more about the plants of this land than the people.

"Just like that hulking bear to stomp off in a huff."

This first statement is not only indignant and deflecting, it's so factually false that it's laughable. Halsin is always calm and regretful when staying behind no matter how you treat him.

Player: You have to come - I need you. Halsin: This place needs me. I wish it were different - I truly do. As long as the curse remains, so must I.

Player: Do as you wish. Halsin: This isn't what I wish. It's simply the way it has to be - I'm sorry.

Player: The shadow curse was always your burden - not mine. Halsin: Yes, and so it must remain. I wish you success on your path. Had things been different, I might have walked it with you.

Player: Perhaps we can still do something to lift the curse. Halsin: No. If you linger, you'll only jeopardise your own mission. This is my burden alone now until either the curse is lifted, or I breathe my last.

Halsin is renowned for letting people treat him horribly and taking it on the chin. Him pushing back is usually related to calmly setting boundaries or expectations. The only times I can think of offhand where he raises his voice in anger is with Kagha, if you interfere with the portal, and briefly after certain parts of the Evil companion routes, though not as intensely (I might do a write-up on that later because his reactions are interesting). He certainly never "stomp[s] off in a huff", and he's not doing it now either.

However, the way this is worded gives me pause. Because "just like [him]" said so angrily gives the impression that Halsin has reacted this way to Astarion before. Given Astarion's habit of rewriting exactly how events went down to absolve himself of accountability, it makes me wonder if Astarion's tried to get a rise out of Halsin in camp and been shut down. Since Halsin is the only Good companion at that point who is also old and worldly enough to not get flustered by Astarion's cruelty, mind games, and flirting, it wouldn't surprise me if Astarion has built up resentment. Halsin refuses to be manipulated or confirm Astarion's cynical worldview, and Astarion isn't ready to consider changing his mind with Cazador on the horizon.

"I swear, druids care more about the plants of this land than the people."

This is, again, a false statement wrapped in a little more truth than the first. Druids are indeed infamous for putting nature above humans (see: Shadow Druids), and Halsin talks a big game about Balance and Nature. However, Halsin is probably the most people-oriented traditional druid we see in the game, going so far as to cause chaos in his grove by aggressively taking in refugees and personally traveling with an undead and servant of Shar because they need help. He chooses people over Silvanus' classic teachings so often that it's fascinating.

That aside, given what the shadow-cursed lands are doing to anyone on the way to Baldur's Gate, choosing to stay and attempt to lift the curse is hardly serving plants over people - the Absolute and the Shadow Curse are both significant threats to people. What Halsin is doing, however, is prioritizing his own problems over those of Astarion. He's setting aside the tadpole cause, not because he's selfish or duplicitous, but because he's not willing to abandon the other people he swore to help a century ago and has obsessed over ever since.

Some fun implications

Given all this information, there are many interesting ways to read Astarion's language beyond a surface "he hates Halsin and/or druids" level (gotta love his charlatan background making almost every line capable of ambiguity). Some personal favorite interpretations of his feelings:

Begrudging affection towards Halsin. Astarion has no reason to get so angry and make such absurd statements if he didn't want Halsin to stay. He certainly didn't make such a big fuss about other companions. However, since Astarion isn't in an emotional place to be able to consider Halsin's worldview seriously now that he's staring down Cazador, that admiration gets bungled into a "well screw you, I didn't like you anyway" attitude, much like how he handles some partner breakups.

Resentment and fear of being left behind or rejected. Astarion is selfish. He's been fairly consistent that he doesn't want to help others, but he also hates when no one helps him. That self-fulfilling prophecy is a rather large part of how he moves through (un)life and can easily continue through Act III depending on whether your dialog choices give him an opportunity to express it. Seeing a good person that he truly believes is good choosing something else over him makes the 'truth' of this cynical, self-centered worldview sting harder, especially as he is at his most vulnerable heading into Baldur's Gate.

Guilt for not doing more. Halsin has been clear about his priorities from the start. He's one of the most straightforward, reasonable communicators in the whole game. That means Astarion knew he would leave if the Shadow Curse wasn't lifted, especially since Halsin doesn't have a tadpole and, therefore, has no reason to risk his life for them. Since Astarion is almost universally unwilling to take blame for his own actions or inactions, he's trying to push the responsibility onto Halsin by painting him as unreasonable for following through on his stated priorities rather than let himself feel bad about not helping Halsin.

I'm sure there are even more readings you can think of, too. Hats off to this hidden bit of dialogue, the incredible delivery, and how much depth it brings to a relationship which is easy to ignore.

#halsin #astarion #halstarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

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sailor-aviator · 8 months

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Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Six

Don't Hange'm Til Noon: Chapter Six

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (oral, f receiving), Jake Seresin. I think that's it?

Word Count: 6.4k (I'm so sorry, oh my god)

A/N: I have no words for this one. I warned y'all the train scene was gonna be something else. Also, shoutout to @im-just-ken for taking the time to do research for me and putting up with informing me about all of the different aspects of the Victorian Age!! You're the best!! As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The sky was overcast and the distant rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance. Autumn was beginning to give way to winter, and a new routine had settled in over the ranch in the three weeks since Jake had started working there.

“What are you doing here?” you had asked him with wide eyes. His smirk had widened at your flustered appearance. Your mind raced back to the events of the night before and you gave your tomatoes a run for their money with how red your cheeks must have been.

“Didn’t your brother tell you?” Jake asked, quirking an eyebrow at your brother. “I work here.”

“No, you don’t,” you gaped, glancing wildly back and forth between the two men. “Since when?”

“As of yesterday afternoon,” Benjamin sighed, casting you a sideways glance.

“But, why?”

“You made it pretty clear yesterday morning that you were only interested in men who work for a living,” he explained, cocking his head to the side with a bemused look in your direction.

“I didn’t mean here!” you spluttered.

“Well, Benji here was kind enough to offer me a job,” Jake nodded at the other man. “Isn’t that right, Benjamin?”

Benjamin let out a sigh that sounded something akin to “lovesick fools” as he turned to stalk off towards the barn. You stared after him helplessly before Jake cleared his throat, gaining your attention. His smirk was gone, replaced by a much more serious look as he gazed at you.

“I’m not going to cause any trouble,” he stated, shaking his head when you gave him a dubious look. “I mean it. I’m here to work and earn my livin’ like a man should. I give you my word.”

You studied him for a moment. His green eyes held a look of sincerity and a desperation for you to believe him. You sighed. “Alright, Jake. I’m taking you at your word.”

“Excellent,” he beamed down at you before giving you a stern look. “Now go on and get now. I’m tryin’ to work and you’re distracting me.”

You chuckled lightly, giving him a small smile. Jake’s stern expression dropped, a look of wonder replacing it as he stared at you. A moment passed before he broke out in a grin and turned his attention back towards the fence.

Now, an air of easiness had settled between the two of you as life on the ranch continued. Jake worked hard, and he never complained about what was asked of him, even going above and beyond on a couple of occasions. You had even found him napping in the barn one day after a night where the coyotes had been particularly active, and you had allowed the poor man to catch up on his rest in thanks.

You were on your knees in the garden, digging up the onions you had planted a while ago, when you heard the sound of a horse making its way up the path to your home. Looking up, you saw U.S. Marshal Simpson making his way to you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, stumbling to your feet despite the numbness that had paralyzed your limbs from sitting on them for too long. Beau Simpson smiled at you as he dismounted, walking over to meet you by the fence to your garden.

“Marshal Simpson,” you greeted politely.

“Afternoon, Scout,” he said. “Please, call my Beau.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I was hopin’ you could help me out with something.”

“And what is that?”

He looked out to the empty pasture before glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Was hoping you could tell me where I might find Jake Seresin.”

Your blood ran cold. You knew he was probably out with the others, moving the cattle in from the far pasture, but you weren’t about to tell Beau Simpson that.

“And why would you think that, Beau?”

He fixed you with a look that said he knew you knew why he’d think that, but he played along. “Well, amongst other things, I heard he managed to get himself a job here against your brother’s better judgement.”

“You shouldn’t gossip, Beau. It’s the Devil’s pastime.”

He let out a laugh at that one. “Well, from what I hear, it’s hardly gossip, Scout, but alright. You seen him around?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you responded cooly, picking at the dirt underneath your fingernails. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. You had told him the truth, you reasoned with yourself. You hadn’t seen Jake that day. Beau was quiet for a moment, studying you thoughtfully before letting out a long sigh.

“You should be careful, Scout,” he began, pushing up off the railing. “It won’t do you any good to get tangled up with someone who’s due a hanging. You might end up caught in the rope yourself, if you aren’t careful.”

You didn’t respond. He tipped his hat to you before moving towards his horse. You watched as he mounted and made his way back towards town. You stared after him long after he disappeared from sight before walking slowly back into the house. You went upstairs to wash the dirt from your face and hands before setting out to make dinner. It was a couple of hours before the four ranch hands made their way through the back door, laughing and smiling the entire way. You scowled at the group of men.

“What do you all think you’re doing?” you snapped. Four pairs of wide, shocked eyes turned to look at you, the laughter and chatter stopping immediately. You glared down at the floor where their boots had left muddy shoe prints on the hardwood. They followed your gaze before slowly looking back up at you with sheepish grins.

“Sorry, Scout,” Levi apologize, already moving back towards the door. “We’ll go get washed up outside.”

The others murmured their agreement and filed out after him. Jake was the last to move for the door, and you quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him back. He turned to stare at you, surprise turning into a question.

“I need to talk to you,” you said. He smiled down at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, honey girl?” he drawled. “What about?”

“Marshal Simpson came by today.”

“Cyclone?” Jake asked, taken aback. “What did he want?”

You dropped his hand, and moved towards the stove where you had left dinner unattended momentarily. “Came by to ask if I had seen you.”

“Oh?” he questioned, leaning up against the wall by the door, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You hummed, nodding.

“Don’t worry, I told him I didn’t know where you were.”

He seemed surprised at that, pushing off from the wall and coming to stand by your side. “What?”

“I told him I hadn’t seen you. It wasn’t a lie, technically,” You rushed out. Jake stared at you incredulously before frowning.

“You’re not telling me something,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. You glanced at him before looking back down at the pot of soup you were stirring. “What else did he say to you?”

You sighed and recounted what Beau had said. Jake swore, turning and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” you offered in a huff. Jake whirled back to look at you, worry lines crinkling his brow.

“Nothing to worry about?” he laughed humorlessly. “Scout, don’t you know a threat when you hear one?”

“I don’t see why he would be threatening me,” you argued, hands on your hips. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve done something or not, sweetheart,” he groaned out. “He knows I work here, and he knows what to go after now.”

“I don’t understand,” you frowned. “You weren’t this worried when I mentioned him before. Why are you now? What changed?”

Jake stared at you for a moment. He moved to say something, but the door swung open as the other ranch hands filed in.

“You better go get washed up quick, Hangman,” Phillip laughed, clapping Jake on the back before taking a seat at the table. “Might not be any food left for you when you get back.”

Jake gave a half-hearted smile to the other man before giving you one last look and walking out the back door.

The next morning, business continued on as usual. You had just hung the laundry out to dry when you heard the front door creak open with a thud as it hit the wall.

“Scout!”

You walked into the parlor where Benjamin stood, grinning wide as he searched for you. His smile grew impossibly wider as his eyes finally landed on you. He raised his hand up to reveal an envelope, and he shook it in excitement.

“Benji, wha-”

“It’s a letter from Aunt Jo!” he cried excitedly. You let out a happy cry of your own as you rushed forward. Your Aunt Josephine had been your mother’s older sister, and you had spent many days running around in her orchard growing up. She was a kind woman, and she had helped to fill the void of your mother’s passing. It had been hard to leave her behind.

“Have you opened it?” You were practically vibrating from excitement. Benjamin shook his head.

“No, I wanted to read it with you.”

“Well, go on!” you laughed, gesturing for him to open it. He did so, eyes scanning the paper quickly.

“She wants us to come for a visit,” he smiled, looking up at you. Your grin matched his own as you hopped excitedly.

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Jake standing in the doorway with an amused glint in his eyes as he watched the two of you giggle like school children. You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Our Aunt Josephine wrote to us,” you explained in a hurry. “She wants us to come visit.”

“Yeah?” Jake grinned at your enthusiasm. “When?”

“Says she wants us to come up for Christmas,” Benjamin frowned, scanning the letter over. Your heart jumped at the idea of seeing a white Christmas again. You thought it was one of the many things you had given up when you moved out west to Maverick. Benjamin lowered the letter with a grim expression. “I can’t go.”

“What?” you cried, looking over at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said slowly, “that I can’t go. There’s too much work to be done here on the ranch, and I can’t take the weeks off from the firm.”

“Oh,” you said dejectedly. “Well, we’ll have to write back to Aunt Jo to tell her we’ll come at another time, then.”

“No, Scout,” Benjamin said firmly. “Just because I can’t go, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I know how much you miss it there, and the trip will mean so much more to you than it will me, anyway. No, I insist. You’re going.”

“But, Benji-”

“I’ve already made up my mind,” he said, offering you a smile. “Now we just need to find someone to go with you. Ah, but Hondo and Joel aren’t do back for weeks now. Maybe I could get Tom to-”

“I’ll do it.”

Both of you turned to look at Jake. His eyes darted between the two of you as you gaped at him.

“What?” Benjamin questioned. Jake cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter.

“I’ll go with her,” he said firmly. Your eyes darted to Benjamin who was already looking at you. He cocked his head as if to say that he was okay with it if you were. You bit your lip, mulling your options over. You worried about the implications that might arise at having a man who wasn’t family show up with you in Baltimore. But you knew that Jake could be trusted. He had shown you the kind of man he was capable of being, and you trusted him enough by this point to know you would be safe.

“Yes,” you said finally. “Alright, it’ll be the two of us.”

Two days later you were adding the final items to your bag for your journey. Benjamin had already sent a reply back to your Aunt Josephine explaining the circumstances, but had told her you were eagerly preparing for your trip. You had just placed your last skirt in your bag when something caught your eye. You glanced up to see the wooden horse still standing proudly on your end table. You chewed on your bottom lip, slowly walking over to grab the figurine. You smoothed over the back of it before turning it over in your hand to stare at the initials that were carved into its belly.

“Scout? The cart is ready, and Benjamin wanted me to-”

You looked up to see Jake standing in your doorway. His eyes were focused on the wooden statue in your hand before they slowly traveled up to look into your eyes.

“You kept it?”

“Of course I kept it,” you scowled at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “You were just so mad at me then. I didn’t think you’d care enough to keep it.”

“Well,” you mumbled, trying to come up with something, anything to weasel your way out of the conversation. “I did.”

Jake studied you for a moment before smiling. “You almost done packin’? Your brother’s waiting downstairs to send us off.”

“Yes,” you breathed, thankful for the out he had offered you. “You go on ahead. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

He nodded before turning and walking off. You let out a sigh, looking back down at the wooden horse. You walked back towards the foot of your bed where your bag lay, and gently placed it on top before closing the clutch and heading downstairs.

The first couple of days passed without incident. Benjamin had wished you to a safe and pleasant journey, watching you as Jake drove the cart down the street. The two of you camped out under the stars of the wilderness, Jake making sure you were plenty warm and comfortable in the back of the cart before settling down on the blanket he would set by the fire.

“You don’t have to sleep on the ground,” you told him on the third night. He had looked up to where you hung over the side of the cart to look at him. “There’s more than enough room to fit the both of us comfortably.”

Jake had let out a low laugh before giving you a look that made your core clench. “Honey girl, I already have to sit next to you during the day. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself if I didn’t have this time to cool down.”

You blushed at his words and had quickly rolled over to try and get some sleep.

Jake was a surprisingly good cook, and an even better shot. The two of you survived off the bread and produce you had purchased from the general store as well as the rabbits Jake managed to shoot during your camp-outs. By the fifth day, you had run out of polite conversation topics, and the two of you drifted towards more personal ones.

“Do you have any siblings?” you asked him that afternoon. Jake quirked an eyebrow at you in amusement. “What?”

“You wanna know if I have any siblings?”

“You already know about Benjamin,” you pointed out. “I think it’s only fair if I know about any siblings you have.”

“Alright, Scout,” he hummed with a smile. “If you must know, I have an older sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sarah,” he smiled. “She’s about two years older than me, and she has a son named Billy who’s a little terror of a kid.”

He smiled down at you, and you returned the gesture. He turned his head back to the road and frowned. “Her husband died just after Billy was born. So, I’ve been tryin’ to help her out where I can. She works in town as a seamstress, but the hours are long, and the pay is shit.”

“What about your parents?” you asked, and he gave you a wry smile.

“They died in the scarlet fever epidemic that swept through Maverick years back. The same one that took out Rooster’s mama and daddy and Bob’s pops. It was a real mess there for a while, but Mav and Penny took us all in, gave us a roof over our heads and put food in our bellies. I don’t think any of us were really much of the same after that, though.”

“Jake,” your heart broke for him. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for you to be sorry ‘bout, sweet girl. We get along just fine now. Jus’ wish my sister didn’t have to work so damn hard all the time, is all. Don’t wanna see her work herself into an early grave.”

You hesitated. “Is that why you do what you do? Steal, I mean.”

Jake didn’t answer for a moment. “That’s one reason. I’d do anything for my sister and that kid of hers. The money and treasures I get from doin’ all those jobs mostly goes to help her out.”

“And the other reason?” you asked. Jake pursed his lips, contemplating his next words.

“Rooster was real torn up about his parents. I, at least, had Sarah. Bradley? He didn’t have anyone. Think something died in him the day he lost the both of’em. He started acting out when we got older, and before long he was out robbin’ banks and all sorts of other shit. I think a part of him just wanted to hurt the world the same way it hurt him, and he decided that that meant he had to take. Take what isn’t his, and keep taking before the world takes from him again.”

“And what about you? Why did you join him? Why did any of you?”

“We’re not goin’ to leave a friend to walk through hell alone,” he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. You studied his profile for a moment.

“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin.”

You saw the tips of his ears flush a bright crimson. He cleared his throat and turned to look at you with a playful glare.

“Alright, you’re turn,” he smirked. “Which of my friends do you like the most? And if you say Javy, I’m dumping you on the side of the road.”

Steam billowed as a train whistle sounded on the platform. Jake was handing your luggage over to the conductor as you surveyed the station. It was still the same as when you had arrived months ago, but you felt that you yourself had changed. You supposed you had.

“Are you ready? Guy says we’re leavin’ in a couple of minutes,” Jake said as he sidled up to you, placing a gentle arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you smiled at him, allowing him to steer you towards the train car. The conductor reached out a hand to you, and you took it gratefully. You felt your cheeks flush as Jake laid his hands gently on your hips, lifting you onto the step as the conductor pulled you up. Jake followed after you, and the two of you quickly found seats near the middle of the car. You sat by the window as Jake sat across from you just as the train began to lurch forward. Jake jumped at the sudden movement, shoulders and face tense.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his. He glanced at you, then took a deep breath to relax.

“Jus’ never been on one of these before,” he answered, offering you a nervous smile. You returned the smile, patting his hand before pulling away.

“Yes, I suppose it can be a tad nerve-wrecking when you’re not used to it.”

“You travel a lot?” he asked you, watching as you turned to look out the window.

You shrugged. “Not so much anymore. I used to take trips with my friends up to New York every now and then.”

“You must miss it,” he murmured, eyes never leaving you. You looked at him.

“I miss them.”

Jake frowned, his turn to look out the window at the landscape that rushed past you. “Well, you’ll see’em soon enough.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, but before you could, and older woman and her husband joined you in your seats. Jake was polite, but you could sense something was off with him as his smile never quite reached his eyes. You retired for the evening, wishing the older couple a pleasant evening as Jake rose to walk you to your sleeping quarters. You stopped in front of the door to your cabin, looking up at Jake with a coy smile.

“I’m fairly certain that couple thinks we’re married,” you chuckled. Jake’s face remained stoic as he watched you.

“Would that be so bad?” he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. Your smile dropped as your eyes widened up at him.

“What?”

Jake watched you for another half second before shaking his head with a sigh.

“Nothing,” he muttered, knocking his fist on the doorframe twice before turning to head to his own cabin. “Goodnight, Scout.”

You watched him as he closed his door behind him before turning into your own cabin, shutting the door behind you.

The next morning you found yourself only hours away from St.Louis. You dressed slowly before walking over to Jake’s cabin. When he didn’t answer your knock, you decided to see if he had gone on ahead. You found him minutes later in the dining car, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked tired, bags heavy under his eyes as he looked out the window. A couple of women at the table next to him were casting him barely concealed glances as they giggled amongst each other. You marched down the aisle and sat in the seat across from him. He started at your entry, but relaxed when he realized it was you.

“You’re up early this morning,” you commented. He hummed at you, taking another sip from his coffee. You pressed on. “Are you usually such an early riser?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he grumbled, and you pursed your lips.

“Is something the matter?” you asked. He glanced at you.

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

The question caught you off guard, and you balked before fixing him with a curious look.

“Sometimes,” you admitted slowly. “I suppose most girls do. It’s something we’re raised to do, after all.”

“But do you want to?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” you stated, shifting in your seat. “I do. Someday.”

“And what about the groom? Who is it you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

You scowled at him. “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

Jake just stared at you, waiting for you to continue. You huffed. “I suppose I’ve never really given it too much thought. I knew I would have to get married one day, and I assumed that one day I might fall in love with someone. There were several young men pushed for me to choose, but I suppose none of them ever felt right.”

“What about you?” you asked suddenly. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Me?” Jake laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Not really. Never thought I’d like anyone enough to want to spend the rest of my life with them. Used to laugh at the idea of ever finding someone who could make me want to settle down.”

“And now?”

Jake’s expression remained amused, but there was a hint of an emotion behind his eyes that, try as you might, you couldn’t place. Jake glanced out the window and made to stand up. “Looks like we’re here.”

The train ride from St. Louis to Baltimore started off much of the same, except this time you were seated next to a group of young women who openly gawked and giggled over the handsome man across from you. You felt a rush of irritation as one dropped her hand fan in the aisle. Jake reached down to grab it for her, staring up at her with a polite smile.

“I think you dropped this,” he offered as she took it. Your blood boiled when she batted her eyes at him with a coy smile.

“Thank you, handsome,” she grinned as her friends broke out into another round of giggles. Jake cleared his throat with a wince as he leaned back into his seat. You stood up abruptly, and Jake was left scrambling to his feet.

“I’m tired,” you announced, making a pointed effort to not look at the girls. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jake agreed, following down the aisle after you. Neither of you said a word to the other as you made your way towards your cabin for the evening. Stopping in front of the door, you turned to look at Jake.

��This is me,” you said. Jake looked at the number on the cabin and then down at the ticket in his hand.

“That can’t be right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” you frowned. Jake looked up at you and then back down to his ticket before letting out a sigh.

“Ticket says this is my cabin too.”

“What?” you shrieked, snatching the ticket from his hand. “Give me that.”

You stared down at the black ink, willing the information to change. You glanced at Jake who was still watching you, waiting for you to come to terms with the situation.

“What do you want to do?” he asked finally.

“Well, we’ll just have to find the conductor and get this mess sorted out.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “I’ll go try and find him. You stay here.”

A half hour passed before Jake slunk back to the cabin looking defeated. He offered you an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t find him.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” you muttered, turning to open the door. “Come on, then.”

“What?” He said, eyes growing wide.

“Look,” you gritted out as you stepped through the door, “we can be adults about this. It’s one night.”

“But-”

“Would you rather sleep out here?” You argued. Jake didn’t respond. “That’s what I thought. Now come on.”

Jake followed you into the cabin silently, closing the door behind him. You moved to open your luggage that had been placed inside when you boarded, taking out your nightdress. You turned to see Jake still staring at you. The two of you stood in the tiny space facing each other for a moment.

“I need to change,” you whispered, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, I’ll just,” Jake stuttered, moving to turn.

“Don’t look,” you threw in for good measure, earning a nervous chuckle from the man in front of you. You turned around, quickly undressing before throwing your nightdress on. You turned back around to see Jake still facing the door.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I’m decent.”

Jake turned around to face you, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. He slowly looked you up and down before meeting your gaze again. “My turn.”

You watched as Jake removed his shirt. You blushed when he pushed his pants down to reveal the white, knee-length undergarments he wore. You took in the smattering of blond hair that covered his broad chest, almost blending in with the gold of his skin. Jake cleared his throat and glanced at the bed.

“How do you wanna,” he trailed off. You looked at the bed and made your decision. You brushed past him, moving to lay down. You laid back, glancing up at him shyly. Jake watched you in a reverie, breaths coming out quick and stuttered as he looked down at you. He turned to dim the gas lamp, casting the room in darkness save for the moonlight that filtered through the window. Silently, slowly, he laid down in the bed next to you.

The two of you laid in silence for almost an hour, Jake’s back to you as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Jake?” you called out softly. “Are you still awake?”

“Yes.”

You rolled onto your side, facing his back. “You never answered my question.”

Jake rolled over so that you two were now facing each other. “What question is that, pretty girl?”

“Back at the ranch, when I told you what Beau said, I asked you why you were suddenly so worried about him when you weren’t before.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment. “Do you know why they call him ‘Cyclone?’”

You shook your head.

“They call him that because when he sets his mind on a job, he comes in with a fury, leaving nothing behind, just like a tropical storm.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Are you scared?” you asked him quietly, and he gave you a wry smile.

“Only of something happening to you, sweet girl.”

You reached up to run your fingertips over his cheek, running them down until they brushed over his lips. He parted them slightly, looking at you with eyes ablaze. Before you could think on it, you surged forward, planting your lips on his. Jake quickly deepened the kiss, bringing his other hand up to your hip to pull you close. He grabbed the flesh of your thigh as he lifted your leg up to drape over his waist. You parted your lips at the movement, and he took advantage of it, licking into your mouth with a desperation that left your head dizzy. You moaned into his mouth, pushing yourself against him as he slowly guided you up into a sitting position.

You grabbed at any part of him that you could reach, whining when he broke the kiss. He chuckled as you chased his lips with your own, but fixed you with a serious look in his eye.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly, hand skimming the ends of your nightdress. “Tell me to stop, and I swear I will, y/n.”

“Don’t stop,” you responded breathlessly. Jake leaned in to grant you another kiss before pulling back to lift your dress over your head. The cool air of the night washed over you, and you suddenly felt exposed as he drank in your naked form. You moved to cover yourself, but he grabbed your arms, gently leaning you back down onto the bed as he hovered over you.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, the green of his eyes swallowed by the blacks of his pupils. “I want to look at you.”

You watched him as he drank in your form, hands softly gliding down to rest on your hips. A small smile played at the edge of his lips.

“You look so pretty for me, honey girl,” he hummed. Your breath caught in your throat as he parted your legs. Leaning back to take all of you in, his eyes blazed with want as he stared down at your most intimate part. He surged forward, capturing your lips in an unexpected kiss before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. He sucked a bruising kiss onto the base of your neck, you gasped as you felt the hard, covered length of him push against your dripping core. One of his hands reached up to grasp your breast as his mouth encased around one of your nipples. You mewled, thoughtlessly pushing your chest up into his warm mouth. He pulled off of your hardening peak with a low chuckle.

“You gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he smirked down at you, fingers still toying with the nipple that hadn’t just been in his mouth. “Don’t want to disturb the other passengers, do we?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before his mouth was attached back to you. You squirmed underneath him, desperate for more of the mind-numbing pleasure you knew he could give you. Jake was in no hurry, though. He took his time lapping at your sensitive bud before switching his attention to the other. Your head fell back in frustration as your hands moved up to tug on his blond strands.

“Jake, please” you moaned. Jake gave you a playful glare before giving a particularly hard pinch to your breast that had you crying out.

“Greedy girl,” he rumbled, leaning up to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’ll take what I give you, understand?”

You nodded your head desperately, and Jake hummed in approval. Mercifully, he trailed his lips down your body, giving fleeting sucks and nips to your nipples before moving further down. Your breath hitched as he shifted down the bed, face level with the junction of your legs. He teased open-mouthed kisses up and down your thighs, never touching you where you wanted him most, and you began to squirm yet again. Jake moved to wrap his arms around your thighs, caging them in his hold so that you couldn’t move. He nuzzled up into your mound before making eye contact with you.

“Been thinkin’ about this for weeks, honey girl,” he murmured, breath fanning over you and making you cry out. “Been thinkin’ about how sweet you tasted that night in the alley. Fucked my hand at the thought about all those little noises you made jus’ for me as I made you fall apart on my fingers. Fuck, you squeezed me so tight. Imagined what it would be like to have my cock buried in this pretty pussy instead of my fingers.”

“Jake!” you cried out at his words. You let out another cry as he snaked a finger around to run gently run through your folds.

“Look at you, darlin’. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaked. You’re practically drippin’ on the bed for me. The thought of takin’ my fat cock inside of you makin’ you this wet? Jesus, I see you clenching. This greedy, little cunt is practically beggin’ for me.”

“Jakey, please,” you sobbed, feeling the tears start to prickle behind your eyes. Jake continued his torture, finger now grazing lightly over your clit, and your hips started to buck up into him before he pushed them back down.

“Uh, uh, sweetheart,” he chided, casting you a light glare. “You take what I give you, remember?”

You whined as he began to draw tiny figure eights on your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, darlin’. You just lie back and take it. Let Jakey make you feel good, yeah?” he drawled, sinking a finger into you. He let out a low groan as you clenched tightly around the digit. “Fuck, pretty girl. Love the way you grip me like that. My pretty pussy is just beggin’ for me to fill her up, huh?”

You felt yourself clench at the thought, and he chuckled, adding a second finger.

“Yeah, she likes the sound of that. Loves the idea of me pumpin’ into you until I give you everythin’ I have to give.”

You cried out when he pulled out of you, but his fingers were quickly replaced with the feel of his tongue diving into you. You raised your hand to bite your fist in an attempt to keep quiet. He thrust his fingers back into you as his mouth moved to nurse on your clit, sending you headfirst towards your orgasm.

“Been thinkin’ about this since I tasted you the first time, honey girl. Couldn’t wait to get my mouth on you and get my fix. Never gonna get my fix, though. Taste too good for me to ever have my fill o’ you,” he rasped. You watched his hips rut into the mattress as he feasted on you, your slick coating his lips as he nipped at your bud. Your legs began to shake as he continued to eat you out like a man starved.

“Jakey,” you cried out as his fingers hit that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Yeah, honey? Did I find your special spot again? Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Can’t wait to sink my cock into you and fill you up with my cum. You want that? You want me to fill you up pretty girl?” he asked you breathlessly, the pace of his hips quickening against the mattress. “That’s okay, you don’t gotta answer me. Your cunt is doin’ all the talkin’ for you. She’s weepin’ for me to pump my load into you, get you nice and swollen with my baby.”

The tears flowed freely down your cheeks now. You flung a hand over your face, but Jake was having none of it.

“Look at me, sugar. Wanna see your face as you fall apart for me. Fuck, I’m gonna keep you so full. Gonna keep you all nice and round while I take care of you. Gonna take care of my gorgeous, little wifey.”

You cried out as your vision went white, his words flinging you over the edge. You watched his own eyes widen as you came apart, his hips stuttering against the mattress as he let out a whimper into your core. You ground your hips down into him as you rode out your high, and Jake grunted as his hips stilled, shaking with the strain.

You slowly came back to yourself, a sheen of sweat covering your body as Jake pressed soft, gentle kisses up the length of your body before pressing reaching up to stroke your cheek affectionately. You met his gaze, his green eyes watching you. Your chest rose quickly as you fought to control your breathing, and Jake gave you a small smile before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Sleep now, honey girl,” he whispered as he dragged the blanket over you. You reached out for him, and he pulled you into his chest with a slight chuckle and one last kiss to the top of your head.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin smut #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #dhtn #don't hang'em til noon

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alicenotalice · 27 days

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I’ve been following Etho for ten years and Joe Hills for maybe ten months, so a proper Joe Hills guy might have a different read—but to me they have equal and opposite energies as characters/personas/performers. They are both Just Normal Guys who are also Baffling Cryptids; but Etho is a faceless, bodiless entity who can cause colleagues and fans alike to pop their monocles and clutch their pearls by revealing mundane details about his physical reality (He eats sandwiches! He grows stubble! He experiences local wildlife! Stop, no more, my heart can’t take it!)

But Joe Hills of Nashville Tennessee, meanwhile, has built his whole persona around being...I’d say “uncompromisingly present.” The fourth wall is his canvas, his own self is the paint. Tune into a stream of his and you’ll likely be met with his giant, transparent, real life face imposed over the screen as he regales chat about his time at a local pinball tournament or the troubles of renting in Nashville

They are both weird little guys who’ve been around forever and don’t give a damn what the current prevailing wisdom has to say about how to run a gaming channel. And they’ve started crossing paths more and more, ever since TCG and DO2 and HC Vault Hunters—and for my small part I’ve found it wildly compelling!

Because—ok. Etho’s default mode in one-on-one collabs is to let the other person pick the play, and then back it. Figure out what the bit is and go along with it. Harmonize and amplify—which is how we got slapfights with Gem in the Decked Out lobby as well as “the ship burns, everything burns.” Meanwhile Joe’s improv comfort zone, to my eye at least, appears to lie upstream of whatever’s “expected.” He delights in the odd and surprising, he’s gleefully contrary, he’s helpful and wholesome, he’s a pain in the ass. King of malicious compliance, Joe Hills

A lot of their in-person interactions prior to the current season felt a bit like their cryptid energies cancelled each other out, leaving two Very Normal Guys having friendly if light conversation and being generally accommodating (the best example I can think of is Joe’s HC VH episode where Etho joined him on a cursed vault run). I suspect it’s because Etho was trying to defer to Joe to set the tone and pick the bit, while Joe was waiting for Etho to pick a direction so he could provide friction by running counter to it—so the banter never actually had a chance to start. That said! Both of them separately are charismatic performers who are very good at what they do, so even without a chemical reaction between them they manage to put on a good show…but imagine. Imagine if they DID have that reaction…

And that’s why the stonefrog deal is so fascinating to me—Joe Hills and Etho have a Bit now. A dynamic. A place where banter could theoretically happen. And that dynamic has gone through several tone shifts since Joe decided to lightly menace Etho by making the delivered stone shulkers spell out “Ethowo”

And again! It’s not like this is a major plot line in either of their videos! It pops up often on stream, but only because Joe spends most of his time there putting mountains into shulkers, and gets a lot of questions as to why he doesn’t just use TNT. It’s not a big deal…and yet. And yet!

#hc s10 #the stonefrog deal #i have too many thoughts #idk I just think they’re neat #ethoslab #Joe hills of Nashville Tennessee #Etho #Joe

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revenantghost · 1 year

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Heyo, let’s talk about my girl Meryl and why she’s so critical to the plot of Trigun Stampede and Vash in particular! (Well, that’s true for any Trigun, but Tristamp theories are rotting my brain atm.) Some spoilers for Tristamp and vague talk/references to the other series ahoy!

Meryl gets way too many accusations thrown at her for doing nothing/not enough in Tristamp. To the point that I started a rewatch to see if I was misremembering, but absolutely not! Those first three episodes alone, she’s critical to how things develop! She’s a foil to Vash, just like Wolfwood is!! She’s essential to his humanity!!!

But it took until I was watching ‘98 for the first time this weekend for it to crash into me like a freight train exactly what Meryl means, just like it took Trimax for the full weight of Wolfwood to click into place for me. Because she’s set up a lot like her older anime counterpart (though no one gets the same amount of character interaction—Tristamp, I adore you, but please slow down and let these poor folks breathe). She doesn’t understand Vash at first, she even goes so far as to call him a coward in a really low blow for what she easily recognizes as his bravery (and sometimes stupidity) later. And while they both (well, pretty much all the Trigun protags, let’s be honest) share their bullheadedness, I see a lot of people say she’s just like Vash... And I disagree, sorta.

She’s just like Rem. Just look at that last episode.

The two women don’t have the same belief systems, they have wildly different paths, and they come into Vash’s life in incredibly different ways. Meryl may keep Vash in check sometimes, but she’s not a mother figure imo. But they still play a similar role.

After over a century of traveling alone, we see (especially in other versions of Trigun) that Vash is often used and abandoned. Even when he makes genuine friends, they let him drift in and out of their life—and to their credit, he’s good at that! He can’t handle any more pain, so he slips away before the hurt catches up. But not Meryl! She ain’t gonna let that happen!!! At first, yeah, she follows him because of her job, but it never takes her long to go from frustrated and fed up to growing fond of Vash. And I especially love the career shift in Tristamp allowing her a complete out, to walk away and abandon Vash when things get rough, and no one would blame her for it.

But she stays. Because she sees that he’s good and worthy of the love that he denies himself. She sees this vile, hopeless world that they live in through his eyes, and sees the beauty in it too. She’s the first person to have faith in Vash not just as a savior, but as a person—unlike anyone has since Rem.

When all hope is gone, when Vash has lost his way, when he stumbles and falls, Meryl—who starts off doubting him!—is the one there to pick him up and remind him that he’s loved, that his love for humanity isn’t for nothing. Throughout the entire series, she has faith in him. She chooses Vash even when he won’t choose himself. She’s tired and done living in this selfish world of awful people, and she becomes the anchor that ties Vash down to what’s good in humanity. She’s just as critical as Wolfwood in taking a distant, disheartened, and broken Vash and reconnecting him to a world that cast him aside. And we’ve already gotten so much of that in Tristamp. It’s most obvious in the ending, but it’s built up so beautifully imo. She’s not as flashy as our fighters YET, but she’s absolutely essential to Vash, and I will die on this hill. I can’t wait to see her come crashing back into the picture with Milly next season.

#Trigun #Tristamp #Trigun Stampede #I didn't write this to be a ship thing but live your dreams fam #I ain't here to be a hater just spread the Trigun love #Though don't follow me for this ship lol you will be disappointed #I sail on a different boat though I salute yours #I just love Meryl man #She's so important to Vash and to Trigun #Trigun Meta #Long post #SO LONG #I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO BE SO LONG #My Trigun Meta

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telvess · 7 months

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Record of Ragnarok, Hades x Persephone!Reader

Sorry for delay, but my writer's block came back.

*SWF*

— Mother, are you sure it’s wise for me to accompany you? — you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your mother chose a modest toga for you that completely covered your shoulders and neckline and was long enough that nobody could even see your toes — I can wait for you here. Your eyes met your mother's in the reflection of the mirror. Her grim visage was present - cold, distant, severe, just like winter. So different from the mendacious one that’s she usually portrayed. — You’re safest by my side — her voice reminded you of the sound of a branch breaking. Demeter wore a simple black robe, her brown hair was braided. She got walked up to you, stood right behind you and watched your reflection in the mirror with cold eyes. The cold she emanated sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. — Stay within my arm's reach, or at worst within my sight — she instructed — Come now, child — she took your hand and led you towards the doors.

You just needed to pass the bifröst and your mother would never find you again. The only way to achieve this was to make your disappearance seem like an accident. That would take away any suspicions and give just enough time to escape. After Gigantomachy, the Greek gods had much to celebrate and much more to discuss. Even if your mother didn’t take part in the war, she still was excepted at this huge event. Such an opportunity for you may never come again. But before, you had to pretend to be an obedient daughter who was brainwashed by your mother to the point where you couldn’t imagine life without her. So you did what she said - you stayed by her side throughout the entire event, you didn't participate in any conversations, you didn't pay attention to anything - and you looked as uncomfortable as you could in the presence of strangers. On the last day of the event, Demeter seemed contented, even in her grumpy mood. That’s why when Hera asked for her, she didn't look at you once. — Stay here — she commanded. You watched her approach Hera surrounded by nymphs. They exchanged greetings and then your mother checked you out for the first time. Shortly thereafter, it happened a second time. She lasted over a minute without paranoia taking over. You sat still like a sculpture. Only your heart was betraying you, but Demeter couldn’t hear it. She checked you out a third time, and then fourth almost immediately after. Now, you ordered yourself and with wildly beating heart, you joined the passing group. You tried to move as fast as you could, but your long toga prevented you from doing so. You lifted up your dress, hearing in mind your mother sucking air through his teeth at that shameless act. You were passing other gods and goddesses, nymphs and elves. With a few exceptions, you didn’t recognize anyone. You gritted your teeth, feeling anger rising in your chest. You were so old yet you didn’t even know people in your on pantheon. That conclusion gave you even more motivation to speed up. The others gave you looks of surprise or annoyance, but you were too focused on finding a way out to care. Once you were outside, the fresh air cooled you down. You took a deep breath and smiled. The prospect of freedom together with a thrill provided emotions you had never experienced before. The dark sky was full of stars. Everyone was inside at that moment, so the path to the carriage was clear, but just in case, you walked hidden in the shadows so that no one could see you from the balconies. Each carriage was specially marked, every god had different preferences. Once you spotted the right one, you sneaked right under the coachman's nose and hid in the storage, where they kept luggage case. It was big enough for you to fit, full of someone’s clothes. Now it was time for the hardest part: waiting. Your mother was probably looking for you and pulling her hair out at this point. You knew how cunning she was - you took after her - and you couldn’t help but let your worries grow. What if you never actually outwitted her? What if she knew about your little plan all along? What if she suspected something and just let you have a this luttle illusion of freedom, just to rip this apart a few minutes later?

You didn't know how long you had been hiding at that point. It felt like it lasted for about an hour as your numb body slowly began to ache from lying in the uncomfortable position. You heard voices from time to time, and they grew louder over time as more and more gods began to leave the event for their palaces. Did your mother keep your disappearance a secret? You expected much bigger fuss, and hoped that her uncontrollable rage would get her into trouble… The sigh escaped your lips as the carriage shook and moved. Was this really happening? You didn’t want to jinx it, but the fire of happiness lit in your chest. Please, don’t stop, please, don’t stop… They listened.

You peeked through the crack in your chest from time to time. It was stupid of you, but you couldn't help but see Valhalla getting smaller and smaller by every second. Leaving it behind was one of the biggest steps you had ever taken and it felt great. But the carriage was moving in such slow pace that you had to fight with yourself to not jump out of your hiding place. First you had to pass the bifröst and enter the Underworld in the carriage, then… worry about what to do with your freedom and how not to die on the first day of your life - you repeated to yourself.

The Underworld wasn’t as dark as you expected. At least not where you came from. The sky was grey and brought gloomy atmosphere, that was only enhanced by the landscape of bare rock mountains, but it was less scary and depressing than in your mother’s stories. And you haven't heard or seen any demons yet. The carriage was travelling on a bumpy road, causing chest with you inside to constantly shake. You tried your best to ignore it, but as the minutes passed, your patience slowly wore thin. One time - when the carriage ran over something exceptionally big - and you hit your head on the cover of the chest, you decided that you had had enough and you opened chest with too much force. The lifted hinged lid hit the back of the carriage too hard, the rumble seeming especially loud in the quiet place you were in. You cursed your stupidity and held your breath, hoping the sound remained unnoticed. — Stop the carriage! — you heard a stern voice. You groaned. What should you do now?! For lack of a better option, you decided to hide in the box again. With your heart beating madly, you listened from the inside. You heard the door open, then barely audible footsteps and… silence. You bit your lip, feeling building sensation in your stomach. You didn’t see or hear anything, but your mind told you that someone was right next to your hideout. — You’re waiting for me to leave, aren’t you? — you said loudly. — Yes. That was short and brutal for some reason. Suddenly all your excitement and thrill of unknown disappeared, replaced by embarrassment. At that moment you felt so small, hidden in someone’s chest like a common thief. You bit your lip and stood up, without looking up. But your numb body didn’t exactly listen to you, so you lost your balance and fell with the massive chest you were hidden in. You landed on the ground, among the rocks and dirt.

— Ouch… Speaking of embarrassment… Your head was right on someone’s shoes. To your surprise it wasn’t sandals that Greek gods usually wear, but a pair of leather shoes filled with square patterns. Quite extravagant in your mother’s opinion. You raised your head and saw a very formal outfit; long white jeans, a blazer with patches decorated on the left and right side and a collar that spans all the way to his upper chest. Above were cold, almost indifferent purple eyes assessing you. You had never seen Hades before and had no particular idea of him, but you had to admit: he was a very handsome man, with his noble features, grey hair and a leaf-like pattern tattooed above his left eye. Not to mention his strong aura that floated around and took your breath away. — Oh, hi… — you mumbled with a soft smile, trying to remain nonchalant. Hades didn’t flinch. — Hi — he replied, a note of moderate interest in his tone — You know, if you needed a ride, you could’ve just asked. You smiled and slowly stood up. You couldn’t stand his spiral eyes, so you focused on your toga instead. The fabric was no longer white, and brushing off the dirt didn't make much of a difference. — Thank you, but I wanted to keep a low-profile. When you looked at him again, this time, face to face, you noticed in his eyes sparks of understanding. Your face remained the same, but inside you were trying to fight the feeling of anxiety. He recognized you. — You’re the one that was missing… — said Hades — The girl. You shrugged. — So my mother made a mess after all… — She thinks something happened to you — Hades’ words didn’t match his tone. He seemed intrigued, his eyes looking at you curiously. — I had to make it look like an accident, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to escape — even if he didn’t asked, you still felt obligated to explain yourself — You probably won’t keep silent if I ask you to, right? — I'll probably only mention you if someone asks first. — Oh, I like that! It was probably just your imagination, but Hades’ lips twitched slightly. You smiled yourself. He showed no signs of wanting to betray you, which made the anxious flew away and now it was time to get a better look around. And so you did. The world around you was as ugly as through crack in the chest. The sky as grey and landscape as unfriendly. You could look around, no matter what direction and still see everything, without somebody panting into your neck felt. It was just amazing. You took a very deep breath and winced at the smell of sulphur. — Helheim isn’t friendly place for a lady, especially this young — you heard. You looked over your shoulder at Hades, who was still standing in his previous spot.

— I can take care of myself — you answered, confidently. — I have no doubts — he said, but you were sure it was out of politeness. You knew he found you naive for thinking you had a chance against the demons, but you didn't care. You could be as dangerous as dust to these creatures, and yet you refused to turn back. — May I ask why? You met Hades’ eyes again. — Why what? — Why Helheim? — No one would have expected such a choice. Especially not my mother. At least that’s what you were hoping for. — Demons aren’t friendly and this place is full of them — Hades tried to reason with you again, but it gave opposite effect. You frowned. — Anywhere is better than my mother's prison — you said upset — At least I’ll die seeing the sky. For the first time, Hades' face showed signs of surprise. Only for a moment, but apparently he didn't expect to awaken your anger. He smiled at you as if he was contented with the answer, then turned to the carriage doors. — To the carriage — he said, firmly, stopping right in front of it. Maybe you were very naive after all because you so quickly assumed that he was good? — I’m not going back there — you crossed your arms. — You aren’t going on your own either — you were informed with calmness that made something snapped inside you. — Said who? You were ready to fight if necessary, even against someone as powerful as Hades. — Me, the king of the Underworld — Hades looked at you with such confidence that you realized very quickly how slim your chances were against him. After all he was the one who stopped Titans all by himself… You didn’t move a bit, you just watched him carefully and waited. Hades sighed. — Such a troublesome young lady — he mumbled, more to himself than to you — We’re heading to my palace. You can stay there for a while until you figure out what to do next. You blinked few times a little surprised. Oh? — Why do you care? I’m not your problem. Hades smiled again. — You remind me of someone. — Who? — Get in the carriage — he ordered again, but the sight of your still sceptical expression irritated him greatly — Or I swear, make me repeat myself one more time and I’ll use methods that your mother would kill me for. You burst into laughter, but Hades didn’t share your joy, so you fell silent. You felt like he wasn't joking and he actually wanted to use his strength, but for some reason, part of you, wanted him to do so… how strange that was… — Fine… — you gave up and finally moved. Hades opened the door for you. The inside of the carriage was definitely much nicer than the inside of the chest. You sat down in the soft, red seat on the driver’s side. Hades gave his servant some instructions and joined you soon after. You two saw in silence and just stared at each other. Once the carriage moved, you couldn’t take it anymore and shouted: — Why are you helping me? You must know my mother! Despite your outburst, Hades remained calm. He reached for the glass of wine on the small windowsill and drank some before answering.

— I do know Demeter. You rolled your eyes. — Then why? — you kept demanding. — Because I like the sound of your confidence. You opened your mouth, then closed it again. The confusion must have shown on your face because Hades chuckled over his glass. There was something about him that was just… very cute. You felt annoying warmth rising to your cheeks. How embarrassing… You looked away, pretending to suddenly be interested in the mountainous landscape outside the window. — You’re strange man — you muttered. — How so? — If you really know my mother, you know what she is capable of. Hades didn’t seem worried. In fact, he made himself more comfortable in his seat and crossed his legs. — Your dark-robed mother was a friend of my grandmother, who declared war to us not so long ago. I do know her more than you think. Besides, her own daughter chose death in Helheim over her company. That alone speaks for itself. — Hard to argue — you admitted — You know… — a gentleman would offer me a glass… — you pointed to the open wine. Hades smiled at you and granted your wish without a word. — Have you been drinking before? — he asked, observing how you smelt wine and took a small sip. You frowned at the strange taste and shook your head, which made Hades laugh. He raised his glass to make a toast — For the many first times then. You smiled back and drank it all in one go.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror hades #snv hades #ror hades x reader #snv hades x reader #udj

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bumblesimagines · 2 months

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Imagine:

Being visited by Bucky Barnes

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them/Theirs

~~~

You listened to a mixture of the radio's music station, the news on the television, and the lively city outside your apartment where the honking of cars and overlapping sound of chatter created a song of its own. You spared the TV a glance before returning your attention to the clothes scattered around the bed, sorting through them and folding each article. It still felt odd, in some way, to return to a normal life after years of being kept busy with S.H.I.E.L.D. So many missions, so many close calls, so many enemies. You could hardly recall the distant, fuzzy memories of your life before becoming an agent. It'd all been so different back then.

Your fingers curled around a small shirt and you raised it up, fondly gazing over the Captain America t-shirt your son had begged you to buy a few weeks prior. Your little reason for leaving the agent's life behind, to ensure he'd never become collateral damage or just another civilian casualty. Still, the news of his existence had been the only reason you left. If it'd been up to you, you would've continued working alongside Nick Fury and the Avengers team. But life forged another path for you.

With a soft sigh, you folded up his shirt and set it atop his pile of clothes. You scooped them up into your arms and headed toward his bedroom, delicately setting the small tower of clothes on the bed. The sound of the dryer stopped and you hummed quietly to yourself, stepping out of his room and making your way through the apartment to the small laundry room, picking up the basket along the way. You set the basket down and popped open the dryer, crouching down and tugging the warm, dried clothes into the basket until the dryer was empty. You slipped your fingers around the handles and rose, only to flinch at the sight of the figure watching you. The basket slipped from your hands, landing on the ground with a soft thump as you instinctively backed up. Your mind flickered through the various spots where you'd hidden different guns and knives before finally recognizing the man.

"You need a better security system," Bucky murmured, his arms folded over his chest as his gaze trailed over the hallway he stood in. You inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest and feeling your heart thumping wildly, the beginning of a headache creeping in from the scare.

"Christ, Barnes," You exhaled, rubbing your fingertips over your forehead. "I have a front door."

"Didn't want to start rumors that could get back to your boy." He responded with a light shrug, his vibrant blue eyes returning to your figure. "Cute kid, by the way. It's a good thing he takes after you."

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes, noting the way the corner of his lips quirked up into a faint amused smile. "Yeah, whatever, Barnes. Why are you here, anyway? You couldn't have given me a call?" You asked him, picking the basket back up from the floor and stepping out into the hallway.

"I don't have your number," Bucky said, following you to the living room and arching a brow when you dumped the clothes over the couch. He tore his attention away from the mess to focus on you again and cleared his throat. "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes, and you're part of my efforts to make amends. As per my pardon... and therapy sessions, I am to make amends with those I've hurt and fix the things I did as the Winter Soldier."

"You broke into my apartment-"

"The window by the fire escape was unlocked. I'd hardly call it breaking in. Like I said, you need a better security system." You squinted at him. Bucky sighed heavily. "Yes, I broke into your apartment."

"Uh-huh, so, you did that to... apologize? For what, exactly? Shooting at me? Dislocating my shoulder? Nearly breaking my leg? Trying to kill my boss and coworkers?"

"All- All of that. I... I was in the neighborhood and you were on my list. I thought I'd stop by and apologize for the damage I caused or could've caused." Bucky explained, reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out a small notebook. He slipped the pen out from the spiral and flipped through the pages until he stopped on one and crossed something out. With that done, he tucked it back into his coat. "I was actually hoping I could make it up to you."

"Yeah?" You raised your brows at him and began sorting through your laundry, shaking your head lightly at the whole ordeal. "And how exactly are you planning to do that, Barnes?"

"This isn't exactly how I'd do this typically but... I thought I could take you out to dinner."

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 17 hours

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 12

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Every muscle in your body screamed as you fell into the dark. You didn’t even know when you started to fall, but the air was sucked from your lungs as you plunged into the depths. Your arms rose above your head, fingers grasping desperately for something to hold onto, but the water that engulfed you offered no purchase. Your hair floated around your face like a dark halo as you thrashed and kicked wildly, the fabric of your nightgown billowing around you. Your eyes widened, mouth opening in a burst of bubbles as you let out a muffled, watery scream, sinking deeper into the pitch-black water. No matter how you struggled, you only sank further, the pressure of the water growing, squeezing the last bit of air from your lungs. Eventually, you stopped fighting, your arms going limp above your head, legs floating beneath you, hair drifting like seagrass as you descended.

From everywhere and nowhere, Azriel’s voice echoed in your mind, “I want this to be done.” You turned your head, your eyes burning as you peered into the inky blackness around you. “Life of luxury,” the voice continued to echo as you began to thrash again. “I know my own suffering,” the bodiless voice screamed out, overlapping with, “They don’t want to leave,” and “Do you want that?” All these phrases echoed over one another, blending into a cacophony of torment.

You brought your hands to your ears, pushing out an unheard, breathless scream as you shook back and forth, trying to shake the voices that were coming from your own mind. “Do you want me to rip them from their homes? Life of luxury. Do you want that? I know my own suffering. I want this to be done. Life of luxury. I want this to be done,” the voices overlapped, harmonizing with the voice of your mate, “What do you want from me? What do you want from me? What do you want from me?” The questions came first from far away, then as if someone were whispering in your ear, then from your left, right, close, far, above. You couldn’t place them as they screamed and whispered to you.

You slammed your eyes shut, releasing bubbles as you screamed in silent agony.You curled your knees to your chest, and then, with a thump, you found yourself on your knees, curled over, dripping water from your hair and body as you shook, coughed, and cried out water from your lungs.

“What do you want from me?” a voice asked, the voice of your mother.

“I want to see her,” said an unknown male voice.

“No,” your mother responded. You lifted your head from your hands and took in the black room you were in, the rock floor hard beneath you as the sounds of drips echoed against it. In front of you, you saw your mother’s face, shadowed and indistinct. Facing away from you was the figure of a male, also obscured and shadowed. “I won’t allow that,” your mother responded.

You wiped the water from your eyes as you watched, the only light in the entire room focused on them. “Mama,” you reached out to her, but she didn’t turn to you, nor did it seem she heard you.

“She is my child,” the male responded.

“She is nothing to you,” your mother shot back.

“She is my property.”

“She is no more your property than I am.”

“You cannot keep her from me.”

“You pay me by the hour, you have not bought my life or hers.”

“Think of what I can offer her, Sile. Where she can grow up?”

“As a bastard child? And what will become of her?” your mother spat back, venom lacing her words as she turned away from the shadowed man.

“She will be a lady of the court, educated.”

Your mother turned again, “I will educate her!”

“You? A whore? Educate her on what? How to make a male come as quickly as possible so you can reap the reward?”

Your mother raised her hand as if to slap the male, but he gripped her wrist as she fought against him. “You would dare to lay a hand on me?”

“Let go of me!” your mother screamed, her eyes wide in shock.

You reached your own hand out to her, trying to get to your feet, which felt bolted to the ground. As you called out “Mama!” your own voice was met with a smaller, child’s voice. From behind you, a small female ran forward, past you, to the male who turned, his face encased in shadows, unable to be identified. The little girl ran towards your mother. The male released her wrist as your mother bent to her knees and pulled the little girl, no more than 20 years old, barely a toddler, up into a hug, the child curling her face into her neck as your mother cradled the child’s head to her throat.

“So this is my daughter?” the male voice rang out, his hand reaching out to attempt to stroke the child.

Your mother turned around. “She is not your concern.”

“She is mine, Sile,” the male responded.

The small child turned her head, and when you caught her eyes, you realized that the child was you. What was this memory? Or were you so waterlogged you couldn’t pull fiction from reality?

“Mama?” the little voice cooed out.

“Come on, baby,” your mother turned to walk away. The male gripped her by her hair, ripping her back around as she screamed out in pain, the little child reaching up to her mother, beating on the male’s arms while screaming at him to let her go.

“You will not keep her from me. And you will not turn your back on me,” the male screamed into her face.

Your mother never let you go as the male leaned in close, whispering something in her ear as he continued to grip her and pull her in close despite her pleas. When he let her go, she fell to her knees as the male, still shrouded in shadows, turned and called out as he walked away, “You can’t hide her, Sile. Enjoy your life of luxury.” Your mother sobbed as she positioned her body over your own childhood form.

You felt soft, yet sharp claws growing around your mind, scraping through the blackness of the room, and then the scene was over. Your eyes shot open and you were met with Rhysand’s face staring down over you, sweat pouring down your forehead and back as you let go of the sheets you had clenched in your grip.

You gasped and shot forward as Rhysand's hands steadied you, “Shh,” he whispered, trying to calm your ragged breathing.

You wheezed, still feeling as if water was rattling around in your lungs.

In an instant, Nesta was by your side, her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Rhysand stepped back from the bed. “Just breathe,” she reminded you, positioning herself in front of you. Her soft hands cradled your face, her thumbs tracing calming patterns on your cheeks. You took slow, deep breaths in sync with her, your eyes locked on hers.

When you finally leveled out, you took in the other occupants of the room. Rhysand stood against the wall, arms crossed, looking at you with concern. Feyre, hair a mess in her sleeping dress, stood next to him, her nails to her lips. At the foot of the bed, Azriel's eyes were hardened and wide, his knuckles white as he gripped the bedpost.

You finally managed to ask, “What happened?”

Nesta dropped her hands to her lap. “You had a nightmare.”

“Why is everyone in here?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Nesta said, her voice trembling. “I tried shaking you, throwing water on you, screaming your name—nothing worked.”

Rhysand stepped in, “Nesta called me to help. I entered your mind to pull you out.”

You looked at him, your brows furrowing as you brought your hand to your temple, trying to calm the pounding within. “You did what?”

“I entered your mind,” Rhysand explained. “It’s one of my powers as High Lord. I can see what others are seeing and alter their thoughts.”

“You were in my mind?” you asked, incredulous.

Rhysand nodded.

“Have you,” you stammered, “have you been in my mind before?”

Rhysand’s eyes widened a bit as he chose his words carefully. “You seem to have a natural ability to shield my powers.”

Feyre added, “When you first got here, Rhys tried to help calm you down but couldn’t get past a wall you had put up.”

“I wouldn’t have entered without a good reason,” Rhysand said.

You shook your head, swallowing the bile that rose in your throat. “What did you see?”

Rhysand paused. “I saw your dream.”

“That wasn’t a memory. That never happened,” you shot back.

“I saw what you were dreaming, then. And you were screaming inside. I also felt another presence—a male.”

Azriel gripped the bedpost tighter.

Your eyes flitted between Azriel and Rhysand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhysand shifted slightly. “You never hear a voice other than your own in your head?”

You paused, considering.

“I ask,” Rhysand continued, “because it seems like a mated connection. It’s a bond, and yours was hidden, but I could still hear that voice.”

Azriel quickly released the bedpost, turning on his heel and leaving the room with a furious hiss.

Feyre’s face dropped as she pressed her hand into Rhysand’s shoulder, following Azriel out. Rhysand just looked at you, concern etched in his features.

You looked back and forth between Nesta and Rhysand, your hands clenching and unclenching the bed sheets damp with your sweat. Finally, you began, “What else did you see?”

Rhysand shrugged slightly, maintaining his serious demeanor. “Not much. You’ve built a very strong wall.”

Nesta turned over her shoulder to look at him. You tried to catch her expression but couldn’t quite make it out. Rhysand held up his hand to silence her before she could speak.

Nesta turned back to you, grabbing your hands in hers and offering a tight smile.

“I need to get some sleep,” Rhysand said. “Nesta, I’ll meet with you tomorrow.” Rhysand nodded in your direction, and you flashed him a thankful smile, tinged with slight embarrassment. Nesta didn’t turn to look at the High Lord, who quickly left the room, heading down the hall the same way Feyre had gone.

Nesta continued to hold your hands, her thumbs gently rubbing the backs. She swallowed, looking down and then back up at you. “Look,” she began, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I think it could help if you let me know even a little bit about what’s going on with you.” Her voice carried a slight plead. “You aren’t here. You always seem to be somewhere else.” She looked back down at her hands, her lips tightening. “I know what it’s like to be stuck inside yourself. And you don’t have to do that alone.”

You smiled lightly as Nesta looked back at you. “It’s nothing. I’m worrying you all for nothing. I just didn’t sleep well. Had a nightmare.”

Nesta scoffed slightly, and your eyes met hers. “Y/N, you’ve been screaming the same name every night. You thrash like someone is attacking you, you jump at every little sound, and if any male enters the room, you immediately tense up.”

You pulled your hands from Nesta’s, wrapping them around your knees, your face turned down.

“Y/N, I don’t want anything other than for you to feel safe,” Nesta offered.

“I do feel safe,” you responded.

“I want you to feel safe when you’re alone.”

You peered up at Nesta slightly. “Nesta, why are you doing all this?”

Nesta looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know me.”

“Can’t I just want to help someone?”

You looked around the room. “Azriel brought me here, and you all have been generous in taking me in. But you don’t know me. You don’t have the time to be doing all of this, especially not Rhysand. And yet, you feed me, house me, care for me, and we’ve known one another not more than a few days.”

Nesta swallowed, just looking at you. “We just want what’s best for you.”

“Seems very generous.”

Nesta’s gaze turned slightly more distant as she scanned your eyes. You just stared back before you suddenly said, “Thank you, for everything, Nesta. But I think it’s time for me to go.”

You swung your legs over the side of the bed as Nesta tried to speak, calling out your name as you walked to the door.

“I’ll head out tomorrow morning,” you said, looking over your shoulder. “Please tell everyone thank you, for me.”

You could still hear Nesta calling your name as you walked down the hall, through the grand room, and back to your own suite, where you shut the door, laid down, and did not sleep.

To my lovely tagged readers, thank you for all the support and comments. It really encourages me to continue to write knowing that you all sit down with me for five minutes a day and get to peak into my head. Love you all!

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba

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peachsukii · 4 months

Text

Leave It All Behind

『♡』 fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | aged to 24 | nasty break up ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

summary: a heated argument, a slammed door, a thrown ring, and two broken hearts. everything changed in the blink of an eye when you decide to blow up your whole life over a change of scenery. tags & warnings: violence against a partner, angst, no happy ending, bakugo cries a lot a/n: this physically pained me to write because I don’t wanna make Katsuki cry like that but the angst just came flooding out of my brain 😭 ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,175 ꒱

“I quit.”

Katsuki drops the mug in his hand, ceramic pieces and lukewarm tea splattering all over the kitchen floor.

“What?!” His voice is amplified, preparing for the argument he knows is brewing.

“I said ‘I quit.’ I left the agency today.” Your tone is cold as you cross your arms and shift on your hip.

Katsuki blinked repeatedly and scrunched his brows together, wondering if he somehow jumped into a different reality.

“We fuckin’ talked about this! I thought-”

“What? You thought you could order me around like a goddamn dog?!” You snap, waving your hands around in defense.

“No! Where th’ fuck is this coming from?”

Katsuki is legitimately bewildered. You just had the conversation last night and came to the conclusion you were not going to quit being a hero - all of that just flew out the window at mach speed.

“I decided myself I didn’t need the number two hero ordering me around, acting like I’m gonna sneak up and take your fucking job!” The anger inside you is boiling hot, your voice raised to match Katsuki’s volume.

“Th’ fu…I don’t think that! I’ve been by your side since day fuckin’ one! Where the hell is this coming from, y/n?!”

You take a step toward him, purposefully invading his space to get under his skin. He hated when you’d do this during a fight.

“I’m tired of it all, Katsuki! What the hell is the point?! Heroes are used as punching bags! We’re fucking humans and we are treated like pawns in a goddamn game. I’m tired of being a symbol of something I don’t believe in anymore.”

Katsuki takes a step back, bumping into the countertop as his expression shifts from anger to concern.

“Baby, let’s take a step -,” he attempts to say to lower the level of tension in the room.

“Don’t fucking call me baby,” you snarl, pointing a finger in his face.

What the fuck is happening between you two?

“Fine. Y/N, let’s take a second-”

The sound of a slap echos in the kitchen, cutting through the conversation and stopping time itself. You’re breathing heavily, a fire burning in your heart as you glare at your finance. Katsuki’s stunned, his cheek reddening from your strike. He doesn’t turn back to meet your gaze, hopelessly refusing to accept what just happened.

“Shut the fuck up. I’ve made up my damn mind.”

“…did that make you feel better?” He mumbles, voice wavering as he swallows hard.

The final string inside you snaps - a cable becoming frayed, flailing wildly out of control with electric emotion.

You shove him against the counter and spin on your heel, stomping out of the kitchen. A piece of the broken mug in your path catches your bare foot - you don’t even acknowledge the pain of the pottery slicing through your skin.

Katsuki is frozen, he’s astonished and cannot even form words to say to you right now. Who the hell was this? Where did his beloved fiancé go?

“I’m done. I’m fucking done!” You scream, returning to the kitchen from the bedroom. You’re holding your engagement ring in your hand.

Katsuki’s heart turns to concrete and drops into the pit of his stomach.

“W-wait, y/n, please…just wait a s-second,” he begs with trembling hands. “Don’t do this.”

You chuck the ring straight into his chest, bouncing off his shirt and clattering onto the kitchen tile. He audibly gasps, watching as the ring rolls into a puddle of the spilled tea.

Katsuki’s blood runs cold. Is this real? This had to be a nightmare, a really fucking terrible nightmare. There’s no way his sweet hero of a partner was standing in front of him. You had to have been cloned and this is an imposter.

“I. Am. Fucking. Done. Fuck you, Katsuki Bakugo. Have a good fuckin’ life.”

Katsuki scrambles to grasp your hand as you turn your back to him.

“Please, stop this! I can’t lose you, y/n!” He blubbers, unable to stop the hot tears spilling from his eyes. His voice cracks as he’s calling after you. “I’m s-sorry! Whatever it is, I’m fuckin’ sorry. We can talk about it. Whatever is happening, we can fix it. We can forget this whole conversation happened!”

You smack his hand away from yours and the sting is sent straight to his bleeding heart.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve made up my mind.”

You don’t have time to pack anything, nor do you have time to explain yourself. There’s nothing you can do - no turning back now. The plan is in motion and there’s no putting on the brakes.

Reaching into your pocket, you take your phone out and smash it against the floor. Pieces of glass and small electronic parts scatter in all directions. The phone remains powered on as it bounces on the floor, a glimpse of your lock screen visible to Katsuki. It’s a picture from your engagement photo shoot - the phone screen split directly in between the two of you.

“Sell all my shit, I don’t want it. Never, ever, contact me again.”

He’s hysterical at this point, sobbing and a whimpering where he stands.

“Who th’fuck are you?! Where’s this 180 comin’ from?!”

Katsuki’s desperate for any answer, he doesn’t care if it gets you to stay.

“I’m tired of playing hero when my true allegiance lies with the villains.”

That’s the last thing you say before hastily making your way to the door. Hand on the doorknob, you take a final moment to say goodbye to everything you’re leaving behind - the love of your life, your career, friends and family. All of it is burning to the ground.

Katsuki bolts to the door, slamming his hand onto the wood to stop you from leaving. He’s panicking as his whole life is crumbling in front of his eyes.

“Please. Y/N. Y’don’t have to stay with me. But for fucks sake, is this worth throwing everything away? How could you do this!? What do I tell your parents, our friends?!”

You say nothing as you yank the door open, forcing his hand off the frame. You don’t make eye contact as you pull the door closed, jogging down the apartment hallway.

You know for a fact if you stayed for any amount of time longer, you would have crumbled. Taken it all back and refuse to leave, walk the path of a happy and healthy life.

“There you are. I was about to go knock on your door to get you, silly!” Toga says cheerfully, taking your arm in hers. “Ready to go?”

“Yep. Let’s go.”

The walk down the sidewalk is the hardest road you’ve traveled, not looking back at all the damage you’re leaving behind.

The new generation of the league of villains welcomes you with open arms and cannot wait for all of your inside intel on hero society.

It’s about time you make a change in this world - your way.

I have an extended idea to build off of this short where villain reader meets pro hero bakugo again in the future but we’ll see if it ever comes to fruition

#bakugo katsuki #bnha #mha #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo angst #katsuki bakugo #angst with no happy ending #☆.rei writes

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bun-lapin · 9 months

Text

Confessions

Summary: Leona confesses his love to you.

A/N: Here is the seventh one shot in my "Confessions" series, featuring Leona! Had a nasty head cold this week but I worked through it! I'm really pleased with how this one turned out <3

Confessions series: Rook, Kalim, Idia, Floyd, Vil, Silver, Leona, Trey / AO3

A ribbon of gentle wind and harsh sunlight streams in through the wide open window, and you breathe in the warm scent of sunbaked soil and dry grass. You sit cross-legged on the floor of a familiar room, absentmindedly running your hands through the soft fibers of the boldly colored Sunset Savanna rug underneath you. Carefully assessing the chaotic placement of black and white pieces, your eyes dart across the chessboard set on the floor in front of you. You reach out a tentative hand and place your fingertips against a random game piece. In your peripheral vision, you catch the sudden movement of a soft, feline ear twitching in a very distracting way. You pause, move your hand to hover over a different piece, and frown slightly when you see both ears begin to twitch wildly atop your opponent’s head.

You look up from the chessboard with a frustrated sigh and ask accusingly, “Is there something you’d like to say, Leona?”

From his position at the other end of the game board, reclining comfortably on his side, Leona smiles at you smugly, relaxed. “Looks like you can't decide your next move, herbivore. What's the matter? Don't want to lose?”

You turn your attention back to the board with a little grunt of annoyance, “This game is wildly unbalanced. Shouldn’t you have taught me a little more before we started playing?”

Leona tilts his head back and lets out a wide-mouthed yawn. He flashes a drowsy smile at you, eyes half open and sparkling with quiet amusement, “All I can do is teach you how to play. It's up to you to learn how to win.”

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t even want to win,” you mutter as you finally move a piece on the chessboard.

Looking thoroughly unconvinced, Leona raises his eyebrows and says, “You're kidding yourself then. Everyone wants to win. It's only natural.” Barely glancing at the board, he moves one of his pieces to counter your move.

You briefly close your eyes in frustration and then swiftly move a completely random piece. “So you always want to win? No matter what?”

Leona looks down at the board with a small smirk. Moving his chess piece with a deliberate motion, he breezily replies, “I don't want to just win. I want it to be clear and without question that I'm the best.”

After moving another random piece, you look over at Leona and raise your eyebrows questioningly at him. “Isn’t that still winning? What’s the difference?”

A small frown creases his brows as Leona seems to carefully consider your question. Sitting up straight with a sharp sigh, he mirrors your cross-legged posture and crosses his arms over his broad chest. His bright green eyes, blazing with intellect and focus, glide over the chessboard and then up to meet your gaze. An affectionate smirk turns up the corners of his mouth and he laughs softly, the sound low and deep in his chest like distant thunder.

“If you think it about in the context of this chess game, there are two ways I could win. The first would be for me to wait for you to move a piece, then I'd think of a countering move to your action, and we'd continue in that fashion until I win. The second way would be for me to think of the moves you'd make before you even think of them, to counter moves that haven't even been played yet. In that way, I could lay out traps and dead-end paths, shift the movement of the game from both sides of the board. In essence, it's reaction versus complete subjugation. It's minimum effort versus going all out and fighting with everything you've got, in chess and in life.”

“Going all out?” you echo in a thoughtful voice, mulling over his short lecture. You then flash a teasing smile at him, “And how does this philosophy apply to all the times you skip out on class?”

Leona clicks his tongue and closes his eyes with mild annoyance. He rubs the back of his neck as his tail rapidly twitches behind him, “I said it applies to life. Going to class and hearing things I've already learned isn't living, it's just passing time and not worth the effort. It's not actually important.” He opens his eyes and looks directly at you. “Not like the way you are to me.”

You blink at the blunt delivery of his statement. “I’m…important to you?” you ask hesitatingly.

Leona slightly tilts his head to the side and raises one eyebrow, “Of course you're important to me. I spend time with you, I speak with you, and I listen to you. Doesn't that make it obvious that I love you?”

You feel your eyes grow wide and your mouth drop open from surprise. In a beat of silence, Leona studies your face with an expression of slight confusion before realization finally dawns in his eyes. He laughs quietly and says, “I guess I have to spell it out for you. Well, then let me make it absolutely clear how I feel about you. Beyond a shadow of a doubt." He smiles and reaches over the chessboard to place a warm hand against the side of your face. He gently, slowly strokes his thumb over your cheek and the solid warmth you feel against your skin reminds you of the deeply rich and complex sound of his voice.

“My whole life, I've had people telling me what kind of person I am. That I'm lazy, irresponsible, not living up to my full potential.” Leona’s eyes briefly shift away from yours, a small frown flickering over his face. “Good for nothing.” He brings his gaze back up to meet yours and his eyes blaze with a fierce determination. “Some of them might've had some semblance of a point, but they weren't really seeing the whole picture. No one in my life has ever really seen me. Not until you.”

Leona leans towards you, bringing into focus the intensity of his gaze, the deep gold luster of his skin, the soft, dark braids sweeping against his cheeks like thick smoke. His hand on your face softly slides downwards along your jawline and stops under your chin. With a tender yet deliberate tap of his thumb against your chin, as if for emphasis, Leona lets out a humming kind of sigh filled with longing.

“You. You see me. You see all of me. For whatever reason you've always seen me exactly for what I am. I lay hiding from the world in the tall grass, sticking to the shadows, but your eyes and your voice always manage to call me out. Only you can move me. You’re a force I’ve never felt before and you're so much more powerful than you realize.”

Glancing down at the chessboard, Leona smiles secretively. He releases his light touch from your chin and reaches down to pick up one of his chess pieces. With a level gaze, eyes burning with purpose, he reaches out towards you and clasps your hand in his. He places the chess piece in your palm with sweet care and curls your fingers closed around it. With the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, you can almost feel the honest sincerity of his voice through his touch.

“I sense in you the full force of the universe. All the thrills and anguish and joy that make me fully realize that I'm here in this world and I'm alive. I feel myself wanting you the same way I want to just see another day, to live in victory. I want you selfishly now, but I know I'll fight the rest of my forsaken life just to prove myself worthy to stand at your side. I love you with all I have, and I'll never stop loving you.”

You both sit in silence for a few moments, letting the echoes of Leona’s words wash over the two of you like warm summer rain. With a light tap of his finger against your hand, Leona withdraws his touch and then looks down expectantly. You follow his gaze and see that your fingers are still curled tightly around the chess piece. Slowly opening your hand, you see that it is Leona’s king and you quickly look up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

Leona laughs softly and simply answers, “Checkmate.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst fanfic #twst leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #gn!reader #fluff and romance #bun-lapin écrit

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