#c; homelander ( you are dark and i kind of like it ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lilacwants · 5 months ago

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black leather & eyes of blue.

18+ notes: we love obsessive homelander in this house :’)<3 enjoy! summary: no one touches what’s his and what’s his never interacts with people who don’t respect that. you should have learned that by now. warnings: explicit/mature content. secret office romance, domlander, fingering, cowgirl, breast-play, oral(f! receiving), morally grey! reader, killing, possesive & obsessive behaviour. word count: 1.7k

The fluorescent lights of Vought Tower's 75th floor cast a sterile glow over the bustling office. You could feel eyes on you as you navigated the maze of cubicles, clutching a stack of reports to your chest. It had been a particularly stressful week, with deadlines looming and pressure mounting.

All you wanted was a moment of peace to collect your thoughts.

But that wasn't to be.

As you rounded a corner, Daniel from marketing intercepted you with a friendly smile. "Hey there," he said, leaning casually against a cubicle wall. "You look like you could use a break."

You offered him a polite smile. "Just trying to get through these reports. How are you, Daniel?"

He chuckled, a warm, easy sound. "Better now that I've seen you. You know, you really brighten up this place."

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"You're too kind.”

What you didn't notice was the pair of piercing blue eyes watching the interaction from afar, growing darker with each passing second.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the tension followed you home. When you finally made it to your apartment, the door had barely closed behind you before you felt him.

Homelander stood in the shadows, his presence filling the room with an intensity that made your heart pound. He stepped forward, the glint in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

"You've been ignoring me, sweetheart," he said, voice dangerously calm. "And we can't have that now, can we?"

Before you could respond, he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed. The reports you had been holding scattered across the floor, forgotten. He ripped his shirt off, his eyes dark with possessive lust.

"You think I didn't see you today?" he growled, climbing on top of you. "That little chat with Daniel?"

Your breath hitched as his hands roved over your body, claiming you. "I was just being polite," you whispered, trying to reason with him.

"Polite?" he repeated, a sinister edge to his voice. "No one touches what's mine. And what's mine never interacts with people who don't respect that."

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding. He pinned your wrists above your head, his grip bruising. His free hand trailed down your side, tearing open your blouse and sending buttons flying. He exposed your bra, his eyes devouring every inch of you.

"You belong to me," he said, his voice low and possessive. "No one else."

He yanked down your bra, his hands rough on your breasts, squeezing and kneading.

You moaned, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. He bit down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and you cried out.

"No one flirts with you," he growled against your skin. "No one makes you smile but me."

His hand trailed lower, slipping under your skirt. You gasped as his fingers found your wetness, teasing you. His eyes locked onto yours, a predatory gleam in them.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured, sliding a finger inside you. "So eager to please."

You moaned, your body arching into his touch. He added another finger, thrusting them roughly, his thumb circling your clit.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your climax building rapidly.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice a dark whisper. "Come for me. Show me who you belong to."

Your climax crashed over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. He didn't give you time to recover, lifting you and positioning himself at your entrance.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.

"You're mine," he growled, his pace relentless. "Always mine."

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts. He was rough, dominant, and completely in control.

"Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning into yours. "Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the pleasure almost too much to bear. "I'm yours."

He rewarded you with a deep, bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours. His hands moved to your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his fingers pinching your nipples.

The sensations were too much, pushing you to the edge again.

"Come for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your body obeyed, another orgasm ripping through you, your cries of pleasure filling the room, fingers gripping the sheets. Homelander's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He followed you over the edge, his own release powerful and consuming, a primal growl escaping his lips as he came inside you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

You lay there, your body trembling and spent, feeling the weight of him on top of you. He stayed inside you for a few more moments, savoring the connection, before finally pulling out. He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively.

"You did well," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. "You're learning."

You nestled against him, feeling a strange sense of security in his embrace despite the intensity of his earlier actions. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He stroked your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I don't want to see you talking to anyone else at work. Especially not Daniel.”

"I understand," you replied, knowing better than to argue. "I'll avoid him."

"Good," he said, his tone firm. "You belong to me and I won't tolerate anyone else trying to take what's mine."

The next day at the office, you tried to maintain a low profile, avoiding unnecessary interactions, especially with Daniel. But as luck would have it, Daniel caught up with you in the break room. He flashed you a charming smile, holding a cup of coffee.

"Hey," he said, "You seemed a bit off yesterday. Everything alright?"

Before you could respond, you felt a sudden rush of air and heard a terrifyingly familiar voice behind you.

"Everything's just fine," Homelander said, his tone deceptively pleasant.

Daniel looked up, his smile faltering when he saw Homelander. "Oh, uh, Homelander! I didn't see you there."

Homelander's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Obviously."

In a flash, Homelander grabbed Daniel by the collar and lifted him off the ground. You could see the terror in Daniel's eyes, and you knew what was coming next.

"You think you can flirt with what's mine?" Homelander hissed, his eyes glowing with an ominous red light.

"Wait, no, I-" Daniel's plea was cut short as Homelander's laser vision sliced through him, leaving nothing but a smoldering corpse on the floor. The scent of burning flesh filled the room, and the sight of Daniel's lifeless body should have horrified you, but instead, it sent a strange thrill through you.

Homelander turned to you, his eyes still glowing, blood spattered across his face and chest. "Let's go," he said, his voice commanding.

You followed him back to your apartment, the adrenaline and shock mixing with an inexplicable arousal. As soon as you entered, Homelander closed the door behind you. His presence filling the room with an electric tension. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. He approached you slowly, every step deliberate, as if he were stalking prey. The sight of him, splattered with blood from the earlier incident, should have repulsed you, but instead, it ignited a desire deep within.

Without a word, Homelander closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. His eyes bore into yours, searching, demanding. There was a hunger in his gaze, a hunger that matched the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from him. "I-" Your voice caught in your throat, the words failing you.

His grip tightened slightly, a hint of warning in his touch. "Answer me," he demanded.

A shiver ran down your spine as you nodded slowly. "Yes," you admitted in a whisper. "I did."

A dark, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"Good."

In one swift motion, he pushed you against the nearest wall, his body pressing against yours possessively. His lips crashed onto yours, claiming you with a raw intensity that made your head spin. You could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips, feel the heat of his body against yours.

His hands roamed over your body, urgent and demanding. He tore at your clothes, the fabric giving way under his strength. Soon, you were both stripped bare, exposed to each other.

He pushed you back onto the bed, climbing on top of you with a predatory grace. His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine."

You nodded, unable to speak as desire coursed through you like a wildfire. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly before he bit down, marking you as his. The pain merged with pleasure, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

He kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. When he reached your core, he didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh, his fingers spreading you open. The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You moaned, arching into his touch, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His tongue worked you mercilessly, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. He added his fingers, thrusting them deep inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue. The dual assault sent you spiraling towards ecstasy, your body trembling with need.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a dark whisper against your skin. "Show me who you fucking belong to."

Your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave, pleasure consuming every inch of your being. You cried out his name, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Homelander didn't let up, prolonging your ecstasy with expert precision until you were trembling and breathless.

He crawled back up your body, his eyes burning with hunger as he positioned himself between your legs. With one swift motion, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The intensity of his desire matched yours, his thrusts deep and powerful.

"You like it rough," he murmured, his voice a husky growl. "Don't you?"

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as pleasure consumed you. His hands gripped your hips, his pace relentless as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his guttural grunts.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, dominating you completely. His hips drove into yours with an urgency that bordered on desperation, his need for you palpable.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered in a voice filled with possessive desire, "Mine. Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasped, the admission spilling from your lips without hesitation.

"Yours."

He groaned, a primal sound of satisfaction, before his movements grew more erratic. You felt him tensing above you, his rhythm faltering as he approached his own release.

"Come with me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice strained with pleasure.

His words pushed you over the edge once more, your body convulsing around him as he found his release deep inside you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, a growl escaping his lips as he emptied himself into you.

For a moment, you lay entwined in each other's arms, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Homelander's weight pressed against you, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of possessiveness and tenderness that took you by surprise.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a whisper against your skin.

You nodded, a strange sense of belonging settling over you despite the chaos of your emotions. "I'm yours," you whispered back, feeling the truth of those words down to your core.

He kissed you gently, his touch surprisingly tender as he caressed your cheek. "No one else gets to touch you," he murmured, his voice filled with a possessive certainty. "You belong to me."

You closed your eyes, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you. "I do, I always will,” you replied, knowing that with Homelander, there was no room for negotiation.

As the night wore on, you lay in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your chest. In that moment, with the world outside forgotten, you knew that you had willingly stepped into the darkness with him.

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander imagine #homelander fic #the boys imagine #homelander smut #— lena writes 🔖

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hereforreadandwrite · 11 months ago

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Chapter One

Masterlist

You were not a mortal like the others. Thanks to your abilities, you had become the protector of the lands of Midgard. You knew every corner, every inhabitant, every magical creature and other that there was in this Kingdoms. She was also known in all the other Kingdoms. You loved to fly. It was a feeling of ultimate freedom. You loved visiting Mimir and Sigrun in Asgard. You considered them your parents. Mimir had taught you his knowledge and Sigrun had taught you how to fight.

You had a happy life overall even if there was a dark spot on this idyllic picture.

Odin was interested in your intelligence, your secrets. He had become obsessed with this creature. You had the appearance of a young woman who had just reached adulthood, but your aging was much slower than normal, you had long (Y/H/C) slightly curled hair that reached to your shoulders, your (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with life, full lips, you weren't very tall, but what was really intriguing was your immense black wings like darkness which made your size and that you could become a nightmare being when you wanted to scare your enemies. You were a divine creature, that he dreamed of having. He dreamed of dissecting you to know everything about you.

How were you born with wings?

How could you stay young for so long?

How can you take your nightmare form to scare your enemies?

Seeing that Odin was becoming more and more obsessed with you, Mimir and Sigrun asked you not to go to Asgard anymore, for fear that the Allfather would come after you. You were saddened by this request, but you obeyed. You had returned to Midgard, your Homeland, and you had not returned to Asgard. Odin became mad with rage. Upon learning that Mimir and Sigrun were responsible, he decided to punish them. He imprisoned Mimir in a tree on the top of a mountain, far from civilization, and cursed Sigrun and the other Valkyries. But that wasn't the only thing Odin did. He found you in Midgard. He had seen you take care of Jormungandr. To trap you, he took the appearance of Mimir. You had let your guard down. You were happy to see your adoptive father again after all this time. To celebrate your reunion, "Mimir" you had offered a Mead verse, but Odin had slipped in a drug powerful enough to keep you asleep. When you came to your senses, you felt that something was wrong. your back hurt excruciatingly. Dread filled you as you ran your hand down your back.

Your wings were no longer there.

That night, your cry of despair was heard throughout Midgard.

Because of Odin's obsession, you lost your parents, the Valkyries and your wings. You were alone and filled with sadness. You had left your human form behind, leaving only your nightmarish form visible, scaring away all people and creatures who tried to approach you. In your sadness, you had taken up residence in the council of Valkyries. You had discovered a breach where your adoptive mother was sealed. So you stayed there, protected your mother against anything and anyone who dared to set foot in your living space. But that didn't stop the God of War: Tyr himself from coming to meet you.

“You’re not welcome here, especially your kind,” you said through gritted teeth. “Go away before one of us gets hurt.”

“(Y/N)... what happened to you?” Tyr asked, saddened by seeing your pitiful state.

"You know what happened to me! Everyone knows what happened!" you yelled, turning towards Tyr and slowly moving closer to him. "Odin. Your bastard father tricked me and took everything I had! My father! My mother! My family! My wings! He took everything from me! Look at that! This is what's left of my mother. The Valkyries... have been sealed away... I don't know where or what happened to my father."

"You can't stay here, (Y/N). It's... unhealthy for you to live here, next to this breach."

“I’m protecting my mother,” you said, returning to the gap. “Go back to your father Tyr. And leave me to my sorrow.”

"The (Y/N) I knew would never have felt sorry for herself. She would have found a way to find her parents and her wings."

"Ah! I forgot about your sense of humor Tyr," you said, turning to the Norse God of War. "But I'm not suicidal. Remember, we're talking about your father. The Allfather. The one who knows everything and has mastered many techniques. Do you think I'm that stupid? Do you seriously think I could undo his curses? You think I haven't tried?! I tried everything to free my mother, but... there's nothing I can do. I don't know where the other Valkyries are locked up. I don't know what I should to do. I became... powerless."

You sat on one of the many thrones of the Valkyries, biting your lip, holding back tears. You were helpless. There was nothing you couldn't do to save your parents and the Valkyries. Tyr moved closer, sitting on the ground, facing you. He ran his fingers over your forehead, brushing a strand of greasy hair out of your eyes. How long have you been waiting here? How long have you been fighting those who had the misfortune to approach the breach? You no longer looked like the smiling, lively girl Tyr saw training with the Valkyries. He had seen you flying many times in the skies of Asgard and Midgard. Tyr sighed, running his fingers over your cheek.

"You must not be left alone with this sadness. Mimir and Sigrun would like you to continue living. They would not want you to stay here waiting for death to come and get you."

“How?”

"Come with me. I can help you. If you want, of course." Tyr stood up, extending his hand towards you.

You looked at the gap one last time before looking at Tyr. You placed your hand in his, accepting his offer. You rose from the throne, following the God Aesir outside the council of Valkyries. Tyr had taken you to safety. Where he was sure Odin wouldn't find you. He helped you build a house on the mountainside. He installed a magical barrier to protect you from Odin's evil eyes. It would come as no surprise that the Allfather spent his time observing your despair. Tire was sure to build you a sufficiently comfortable house. He had done everything alone. You stayed in your corner, brooding. Guilty for having abandoned the one who saved and educated you. Tyr had been patient with you. He didn't complain when he finished building your house and the furniture. He hadn't complained when you just laid back in the bed, not moving an inch.

Anger had given way to sadness.

Tyr had stayed with you, making sure you ate well and that you left the bed and the house for a bit. He had installed a five kilometer protective fence to allow you to go out a little and hunt in the woods.

“I understand your pain, (Y/N). More than you think,” Tyr said as he walked through the forest, alongside you. "You'll get through it. But for that, you also have to put in the work. It's not healthy to lie down all day either."

"To do what?" you asked resignedly. "I always trained with the Valkyries or father taught me his wisdom. Other than waiting for the norns to free me from this suffering, I have nothing to do."

"It's wrong!" Tyr exclaimed, glaring at you harshly. "You are the daughter of the Queen of the Valkyries and the smartest man of this Nine Kingdoms could bear! You were trained by the Valkyries! They would be ashamed to know what you have become!"

You felt your heart tighten upon hearing his words. Would your family be ashamed of what you have become? You leaned against a tree, sliding down the trunk, sitting on the ground. Tyr sighed, kneeling in front of you.

"Forgive me for raising my voice. But you can't let Odin win. You have to show otherwise. Take charge of your life. Even though he took away your wings, you are still capable of fighting back. fight, to be diplomatic. You are smarter than Odin. What he wanted by doing this to you was to see your reaction, to see what you were capable of doing when you were in the grip of despair ,” he said, taking your face in his hands. "This is all just a perverse game for him. A game that you are capable of winning. You are strong."

"Me? Strong?"

"Yes, you always were. You just forgot. I want to help you. But for that, you have to let me help you," he said, wiping a tear from your cheek. "Do not succumb to despair as Odin wishes."

"I... I don't know if I'm still capable of fighting. I... my mother and the Valkyries... I... I haven't finished my training. My father always had things to teach me.”

“I'm not saying I'm as good as the Valkyries or Mimir, but with my travels, I can teach you some things,” Tyr announced, letting go of your face. "Now you're going to get back up and become even better. You better be ready. I'm not going to let you down."

Tyr kept his word. The months in Midgard were punctuated by training. The God of War made you leave your bed at dawn to do yoga or tai chi. According to him, it allowed him to clear his mind and rethink his priorities. After that, he trained you in combat. Even though Tyr was peaceful, he wasn't the God of War for nothing. He had learned many things from his travels. The first fight was tough. You never thought you would be so exhausted and in pain. Every muscle in your body hurt so bad and the punch he delivered to your stomach had made you give up your meal. After that, you couldn't move. Tyr had to carry you back. You sighed, laying down on the ground, staring up at the sky. The Sun was setting, tinting the sky orange and pink. Tyr made his weapons disappear before sitting down beside you.

"You have made enormous progress in such a short time. This shows the training of Sigrun and your aunts," praised Tyr who was as out of breath as you.

“Thank...I guess,” you said, sitting up.

“I mean it,” Tyr replied, glaring at you. “You look better like this.”

"How so?"

"Haven't you noticed that you no longer have your nightmare form?"

You took out your sword, observing your reflection in the blade, seeing that Tyr was not wrong. You had your human form again. You ran your hand over your cheek putting your sword away.

“That’s a good thing,” Tyr said, smiling at you. “You’re taking back control.”

"But then... if I regain control. Does that mean it's over?" you asked, wrapping your arms around your legs. “Will you leave me alone?”

“In all honesty,” he began, moving closer to you. “Once we’re near you, it’s hard to let go of your presence.”

Following this confession, you blushed. You stood up abruptly, exclaiming that you were coming home first. You were in the house, slamming the door so Tyr would stay outside. You remained leaning against the door, not knowing what to do or think about this confession. Was it difficult for him to get rid of your presence? What did that mean? Why would Tyr say such a thing? It didn't make any sense. You jumped when you heard the God Aesir knocking on the door, asking to come in so you could discuss what he had just told you, but you were afraid to open the door. You were afraid of what Tyr might say or do. You weren't stupid, but with all the training and teaching you received, you never had time to be interested in men. Especially because of Odin's unhealthy and obnoxious behavior from his other sons and grandchildren.

"(Y/N)? Will you let me in?" Tyr asked, knocking on the door again.

"I...I can't do this!" you exclaimed, leaning against the door. "I... something is going to happen! I don't want anything to happen!"

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm sorry for putting you through this embarrassment. I...what I meant was..."

"No! Shut up!"

Silence fell, you slid along the door, sitting on the floor. You buried your face in your arms, thinking about Tyr's words. You had lost everyone you loved. Were you willing to risk losing someone else? Were you ready to hear his words?

"You don't have to let me in, but know that it's not just empty words. I...I greatly enjoy your company. When you left Asgard, I looked for you. I was... I had to find you. I had to know that you were okay. I had to see with my own eyes that you were alive. I was... happy and relieved when I I saw the council of the Valkyries. I... I was ready to return the Nine Realms to be able to find you. I always appreciated your presence. I always appreciated our discussions. I enjoyed observing your training with the Valkyries. When you fought, you did it with such fervor that no one could look away. Once they see you, it's hard to look away."

You felt like your face was on fire. Why did Tyr have to tell you such things? You raised your head, looking at the door uncertainly. Should you open the door for him? But you knew that if you opened the door, it was going to be a point of no return. You stood up, staring at the door. You took a deep breath, grabbing the handle. You took a deep breath, opening the door.

A voice in your head told you it was a mistake to allow Tyr inside. She told you it was a mistake when he kissed you. She told you it was a mistake when he undressed you to make love to you.

You had decided to ignore that voice and allow Tyr to touch you like he did. You could still feel his warm hands caressing your body. You allowed him to love you and you allowed yourself to love him back.

You wanted to be happy and you were. You were happy with Tyr. You were happy when he proposed to you. Tyr managed to make your discomfort disappear. This joy has lasted several winters, until this day. One night, you woke up to find your husband standing in the wide open doorway. Tyr watched the wind blow fiercely and the rain crash onto the ground.

“Tyr,” you called, sitting up.

“This storm does not bode well,” Tyr said without turning his attention from the garden. "What do I have to do?"

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, leaving the warm bed to move closer to your husband. Tyr was taken out of his thoughts. He placed his golden eyes on your person. His stern expression softened when he saw you. He ran his hand over your cheek.

"I'll have to go to Asgard," Tyr announced.

"Asgard? Why would you go there?" you asked, feeling terror overcome you.

Why would Tyr want to return to Asgard? It was suicide. Odin was probably waiting for this moment to attack him. You shook your head, walking away from your husband. Tyr sighed, closing the door behind him, moving closer to you.

“(Y/N)…”

"This is what Odin is waiting for. He is waiting for you to come back so he can trap you!" you exclaimed, looking at him in horror. "He's already taken my wings, my parents and the Valkyries. If I lose you too, I... I don't know if I can handle it."

You sat on the bed, unable to imagine a world without Tyr. The God of War Aesir was all you had left in his Nine Realms. He had saved you. He had stopped you from falling into madness. If Odin were to take it away from you, you didn't know what you would be capable of against yourself or against Midgard. Tyr came to settle at your side. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against him. He placed a kiss on the top of your head before pressing his cheek to it.

"I already told you: once we are near you, it is difficult to get rid of your presence. And besides, what kind of husband would I be if I abandoned my wife?"

“The kind of husband who will be chased by his wife so that she can kill him with her own hands,” you said, looking severely at Tyr who was smiling, laughing slightly.

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied, resting his forehead on yours. "I promise I'll come back to you, (Y/N). I'll only be gone for a few days."

It was all a lie.

Tyr never came back to you.

You waited. A moon passed, then two, then three and so on. Yet you continued to wait for him, crying in your bed, becoming cold from his absence. It took you three winters to realize that Odin probably didn't let him leave Asgard alive. The Allfather had succeeded. He had taken your beloved husband from you.

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the-travelling-witch · 7 months ago

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𝐎𝐂: 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍

Name: Cheron von Blocksberg

Homeland: Hell

Dorm: Diasomnia

Class: 3-C

Age: 18(ish)

Height: 192 cm w/o horns

Club: Had trouble picking but ended up in the Science Club

Best Subject: Ancient Curses & Practical Magic

Hobbies: Studying magic, reading, fashion

Pet peeves: His wings getting caught on door frames… just build more arched gateways, mortals

Favourite food: The souls of the damned… just kidding, it’s lasagna

Least favourite food: Anything too sweet and tacky

Talent: Getting under people’s skin (without the teachers noticing)

Cheron von Blocksberg, the Prince of Hell, cuts an imposing figure befitting his position. Even if his height doesn’t manage to impress, his leathery wings and the pair of thick horns crowning his head, paired with his sharp claws and fangs, are enough to have people backing away from him. The crimson ends of his dark hair, reminiscent of hell fire, and the blazing intensity of his ruby and golden eyes do not help in making him more approachable. One look at him makes it apparent why he was sorted into the dorm based on the Thorn Fairy’s spirit of nobility.

Coming to Night Raven College is more of an excuse to leave the bleak and lifeless planes of his home. Considering his status, his education growing up was already pretty all encompassing, so his life at NRC is more about entertaining himself by toying with the living souls around him and seeing what he can tempt them into. Cheron’s not exactly hostile but some of their reactions are just so funny, he can’t help himself at times. Before coming to NRC, he wasn’t quite sure how much the living would differ from the damned but it turns out you can talk circles around them all the same; all the better for a silver tongued demon like him.

Unlike others, he doesn’t go around flaunting his power, though he will put people in their place if necessary. Besides, it’s not like he has to go around making people more aware of how threatening he can be; his title, high grades and the gossip going around campus do that for him. Despite his charming and easy-going smile, most people like to keep him at arm’s length, just like his housewarden. However, unlike Malleus, Cheron is actually present around campus and his mood can be rather unpredictable behind that amused expression of his, which makes people as wary of him as of Floyd.

Still, it’s not like he’s completely heartless, putting in some effort, especially for those who’ve earned his respect, and joking around most of the time. No, no, he is taking this seriously, trust him. After all, he is here to meet new people and build connections, and humans fascinate him. In his free time, he’s quite fond of researching old magic and even experimenting with altering and creating new ones. Some students have also reported seeing him pour over fashion magazines or with his nose stuck in a book.

“Hm? Oh you’re the Ramshackle Prefect, aren’t you? I’m Cheron, nice to meet you! Say, you must have some interesting stories to tell, I wouldn’t mind lending you my ear over a coffee some time. Just call me when you’re feeling chatty~”

Relationship with other students:

Riddle - If there’s someone Riddle has to resist collaring as often as Floyd or Ace, it might be Cheron. Sure, in front of the teachers, the prince is a model student; always properly dressed, never late and on top of his coursework. But Riddle knows better. Calling Cheron an angel is like trying to convince him the sky is red. Yet, the Diasomnia student isn’t technically breaking any rules, always operating through some kind of loophole, which frustrates the Heartslabyul housewarden even more. Still, he’ll give credit where credit is due and silently commends his meticulousness and will to study.

Leona - If Leona had horns he could lock, it would probably happen more often than anyone would like. In a way, Cheron ticks him off more than the other lizard by the sole fact he has to see his face more often around campus. While Malleus is annoyingly oblivious at times and many of Leona’s taunts fall on deaf ears, Cheron returns them with interest each time. The lion prince isn’t sure if he prefers that, so he settles for not meeting the Diasomnia student more often than necessary.

Azul - At first Azul thought he might have struck big. Another Diasomnia prince from a distant land? One far off from living society? Perhaps if he was as clueless as Malleus or naïve as Kalim… In his conversation to test the waters, however, the octomer soon learnt he’d get burnt if he tried anything funny and has made a berth around Cheron since. Whenever he sees the demon with one of the tweels, he can feel a headache incoming.

Kalim - Cheron has seen more than enough souls who had to pay the ultimate price for their greed in the end, so when he heard the heir of the Al-Asim family would be joining NRC, he couldn’t help but be sceptical. Yet, he would admit, Kalim surprised him. Despite all of his wealth, greed was one of the least fitting words to describe him and Cheron could respect that. If you could fault Kalim for anything it was his naïveté but that was hardly a sin. So Cheron found himself being much more genuine with the second year than with others, no matter how distrustful Jamil was of him.

Vil - Vil tried not to get ahead of himself when he met Cheron the first time. Sure, he carried himself with grace and elegance befitting his position but he knew from experience with Leona and Malleus, that didn’t have to mean anything. Yet, the blond was positively surprised when Cheron maintained his pristine appearance and showed off his manners. And against all odds, the demon hit it off with Vil surprisingly well after commenting on the magazine the model was studying. Then again, Vil is one of the few people who have earned Cheron’s respect, so maybe it’s not so surprising after all.

Idia - Listen, Cheron gets it. Being from a gloomy environment and expected to take over the family business himself, he can sympathise with Idia, almost to the point of leaving the fellow fiery-haired guy alone. Almost. However, the Ignihyde housewarden is just so much fun to tease. The first time they met, Cheron had to stop himself from grinning too hard as Idia nearly fell over backwards, stammering out an excuse to get away. As one of the first interactions with the living, it had a pretty forming impression on him. Still, he makes sure to cut the poor guy some slack… every now and then.

Malleus - As the heir apparent of Briar Valley and his housewarden, Cheron obviously treats Malleus with respect, though his tone is laced with playful teasing most of the time, which usually results in Sebek popping a vein. Malleus does not pick up on it. People sometimes wonder if Cheron is jealous of the other prince for snatching the housewarden position but those are just rumours. Sure, he doesn’t shy away from metaphorically locking horns with the dragon but being a housewarden sounds like a hassle and Cheron’s not about that. His gargoyle-esque appearance does net him some points with Malleus though, who was terribly disappointed to learn he was, in fact, not a sentient gargoyle.

Jade - Octavinelle’s vice housewarden has always taken to studying the behaviours of those around him, either to learn more about them or to learn from them. In the case of Cheron, it’s both. On one hand, Jade finds great amusement in watching him interact with students around campus, an air of sly aloofness surrounding him. One the other hand, there are so many rumours surrounding him without enough proof to match them, which fascinates Jade the same way a good puzzle would.

Floyd - Putting Cheron and Floyd together can either lead to a catastrophe or… well, a catastrophe. Their moods either clash and they are ready to go at each other’s throats -Cheron hiding it significantly better than Floyd- which spells trouble for those in their vicinity. Or, they get along splendidly, egging each other on and terrorising the poor souls around them. Either way, avoiding them together might be the smartest option.

Trey & Rook - As his clubmates, they regularly interact with Cheron outside of normal classes. And while Trey sometimes still sweats bullets seeing both Rook and Cheron around certain chemicals, he learnt pretty soon after the prince joined the club that he was very well read and much more responsible than the whispers about him would suggest. Rook just holds a general fascination for the demon and enjoys bouncing ideas off each other.

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #┊twst! oc: cheron ೃ༄#after having him in my drafts for so long #i'll just throw him out there #and yes #he's twisted from chernabog

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aerospectrum · 4 months ago

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Jamie's eyes roll at the knocking remark and he had to bite back the urge to respond with a "Yeah, I figured that much out when she tried to kill me the next morning." instead he just nodded in agreement and returned to observing the hero explain himself further.

There was a look of unregulated disbelief that filtered its way through his features when John insisted he was one of the friendliest. The way Jamie's brows raised in surprise said otherwise even if his mouth didn't but when the supe stood to clap a gloved hand over his arm Jamie finally expelled the breath he'd been holding, feeling how his shoulders deflated just as much as his chest at the weight of his seeming praise. "If I fail at this, then what?" Jamie turned his gaze back to him. "Not that I intend to, just, if I do." He could see the fury of annoyance on Ashley's features at his inability to just shut up and take orders and part of that stirred up a desire to see just how far he could push the CEO that answered to Homelander himself. "If I wanted her position." Jamie tilted his head upwards just slightly, a faint smirk played on his lips and his eyes narrowed. "What would I have to do?" he asked the Supe. But he didn't want her position, he just wanted to play cat and mouse with Homelander for a bit at the expense of the redhead.

John as usual kept a sense of neutrality upon the matter. He didn't really feel as though there was an actual weight to his words, or pseudo-veiled threats of sorts. Was that actually a threat? He thought of it as more of a per say, an aforementioned warning. He couldn't, nor would he mask behind the fact that he liked this sense of fear Jaime displayed around him. His smile fell a little at the scene shared. Now, now. This is a place of business, John. You're better than that, the thought echoed back into him toward the back of his mind. Or was he? "I'll let you in on a secret. You should try knocking, to prevent another, eh, uh, a repeat event from happening." He could tell that Jaime probably wasn't used to someone as him being as being so blunt, or as open about things that he was.

He makes a small face, but the not sort that would otherwise suggest that any sort of disapproval. "Oh trust me, you'll know." As brief as the exchanged glances and silences fell between the three of them, John allowed the suspense to drag on until more of the conversation lured itself out, otherwise. As Jaime started with a string of ideas, the Supe's usual icy blues lit up with promise. And perhaps a little eagerness too. "Well, yeah. Everyone's quiet afraid of me. You aren't wrong about that. Friendly faces? I think I'm one of the friendliest." And that wasn't his usual sense of derangement, or bizarre sense of ego. He was quiet serious. He believes he was friendly enough. "Aww, I think you understood the assignment far better than I expected. I'm impressed." John's hand clapped over at his arm. "See? We're getting along already."

#home1ander #c; homelander (you are dark and i kind of like it)#c; jamie (the outcast son)

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ooeygooeyghoul · 1 year ago

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Introductions

Hi, hello, nice to meet you. I'm Quaid, and this is the tumblr I have recycled into posting content about my lizard man. This will primarily be a FFXIV blog, as it's my current obsession, wherein I will post rambles, pictures, my art, and maybe a few other things, idk. I'll try to keep it organized with the tags, but the system is a WIP.

I've only got my main man here at the moment, but maybe I'll make some more heroes in the future! Might update this a few times, too...

Other socials - Twitter | Insta

DAWNTRAILED! - NOT A SPOILER-FREE ZONE!

Shiun Kazumasa - Primal | Behemoth

Warrior of Light - Main

B A S I C S | |

Primary Jobs | Warrior, Gunbreaker & Dark Knight

Guardian | Rhalgr, The Destroyer

Nameday | 18th Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon (May 18th)

Age | 25 years [ARR] - 30 years [EW/DT]

Height | 230cm / 8ft 6in

Homeland | Doma, Yanxia

Occupation | Scion, Sellsword, Blacksmith

Sexuality | bisexual, leaning toward men

Strengths | duty-driven, good at anything that requires physical strength, protective, unbreakable will

Weaknesses | Quick-tempered, stubborn as a mule, emotionally constipated, never asks for help, hides his hurts

Tags | #primordial flame: shiun kazumasa (main), #thaniun (wolship), #forgiven fury (Lightwarden AU), #wandering swordsmith: vulcan (ancient counterpart)

P E R S O N A L I T Y | |

An Au Ra whose face is always scowling or smirking, never anything in between. Shiun is brash, rude, and loud - fueled by constant rage. He acts almost purely on instinct and impulse, which causes his friends no small amount of stress. Don't be fooled by his prickly attitude, he's a true hero with a heart of gold. Devoted to saving and serving as many people as he can to the point of being self-sacrificing. Good luck prying any of his deep emotions out of him, he'd really prefer that those stay hidden.

B A C K S T O R Y | |

Shiun grew up in Doma during the Garlean occupation, so his early life was full of troubles. His parents were quiet artisans that submitted, which afforded them a fairly upper-class lifestyle. But Shiun was different in a way they didn't like. He got into fights with other kids, ignored his schoolwork, and was angry at the injustices he saw all around him. His family did everything they could to extinguish the fire in his heart, but he wouldn't be put down any further. After a chance encounter with a resistance fighter, he fought back against a Garlean soldier that had been harassing people in his village. The Empire didn't take kindly to that, and his family suffered for it. He barely escaped and was forced into exile at the young age of 9. Eventually, he made his way to the Azim Steppe and was taken in by a kind family in the Malaguld Xaela tribe. Scarred by his failed attempt at resistance and the pain it caused, he kept his head down and stewed in his anger for years. That is, until a voice called him to a distant land...

R E L A T I O N S H I P S | |

Alphinaud & Alisaie | practically siblings

Shiun is fiercely protective of the twins. He sees a lot of his younger self in them and has taken on a brotherly role with them. He hates that they've been thrust into this world at such a young age, and tries to urge them to just be kids every once in a while.

Thancred | lover

At first, Shiun couldn't stand Thancred. His overconfident playboy persona really got on Shiun's nerves, so he went out of his way to piss off Thancred, too. After rescuing him from Lahabrea, he stopped being so antagonistic. Over the course of the Dragonsong war, Shiun's feelings towards Thancred began to change, which REALLY freaked him out. So much so, that he pretty much ignored Thancred's existence throughout Stormblood while he considered things. He figured it out pretty quick once the Scions started getting yoinked to another realm. More on this later...

Y'shtola | voice of reason

Shiun appreciates Y'shtola's sharp wit and sharper tongue. She sees right through his bullshit and is often scolding him for his reluctance to rely on others. They get into banter contests a lot, which he rarely ever wins.

Urianger | jock & nerd

When they first met, Shiun couldn't understand a word Urianger was saying, but he learned to communicate with him over the course of their adventures. He's got a good friendship going with Urianger, where he patiently explains complex things to Shiun five times and Shiun helps him get better at socializing.

Tataru | ride or die

Shiun would die for Tataru. She continues to baffle him with her limitless talent towards anything other than combat, and he'll do pretty much anything she asks him to. To be honest, her ability to sniff out the truth and love of gossip frightens him a little bit.

Estinien | friendly rivalry

Despite being an axe-user, Shiun's skill with the lance is nothing to sneeze at. The two talk through their sparring more than they do with their words. Shiun was happy when Estinien decided to stop skulking about and join the Scions, but he still gives him shit about it.

G'raha | brotherly friends

When he found out just how much G'raha idolized him, Shiun was flabbergasted. He certainly wasn't used to that amount of admiration, and he found it difficult to deal with at first. But the hesitation faded away as G'raha accompanied him on more and more outings. Now Shiun thinks of him as a brother and irreplaceable friend, determined to make him into a hero too.

T R I V I A & E X T R A S | |

Favorite non-chocobo mount is the SDS Fenrir.

Favorite minion is gaelikitten named Potato.

Has a major sweet tooth he tries to hide from others.

Is really really bad at cooking. Don't taste what he makes for your own safety.

Actually really does like to fight (don't tell Zenos).

I tend to draw him pretty off model lol.

#ffxiv #ff14 #au ra #ffxiv oc #final fantasy xiv #primordial flame: shiun kazumasa #ffxiv wol #blog intro #wol profile #I'll probably edit this a billion times #anyway here he is #pinned post

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achy-boo · 7 months ago

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Saturday Atelier

1.Neka

2.Neka

"RSA's enigma. He is the only student who nobody knows nothing about expect one of his eyes cry blood.."

Name: Saturday Atelier

Romaji: Atelier Saturday

Quote: "Why people want to know about my kind? It's..weird." or "Do you really want your device to be useless? Please mind your business and we will be chilling.."

V/A: Wanderer from Genshin(both English and Japanese)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: He does not know

Age: looks like in his early to mid 20s though he is actually a lot older than that

Birthday: October 13th

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Eye color: Blood/Dark red

Hair Color: Gray but in the light is pale-ish blue

Height: 6'6

Weight: 104 lbs

Race: Angel(former) Fallen Angel(Former), Angel of Corruption and Illusions

Homeland: [Data Corrupted]

Family: [Date Corrupted]

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: He is in RSA but if I made another fandorm in RSA, he will be in House of the Misfits

School Year: 2nd year

Class: 2-C

Student Number: No.13

Occupation: Florist

Club: Gardening and art club

Best Subject: Art

Favorite Color: Grey, Blue and Red

Favorite Food: Anything really, he is normally eat what he got

Least Favorite Food: Miso Soup, Sundae(no not the ice cream){It is the taste that got him..}

Likes: Yuuken, RSA(Kinda..), cold and gloomy weather, gardening, drawings, watching others, being respected due to his quiet nature, who he is today

Dislikes: Certain NRC students, Crowley{he never like him}, videos or photos of him without consent, summer, many many rules

Hobbies: Gardening, drawing, watching the rain

Talents: He is ambidexterity, corrupting any videos and pictures, animal tamer, control illusions

Nicknames: Saturday(Normal), RSA's Enigma, The boy who cried blood

Other Nicknames: He normally like unique nicknames but as long as it does not insult or offended him, he is fine with it

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Gray hair that reach to the back of his neck, red eyes with one of them has plus sign in them, pale skin, wearing the usual RSA uniform but his are more darker and more unique, one of his ears has more piercings than the other, he always wear that two necklaces who he always say to 'keep him at bay'. He had that halo that is both broken and melting but look closely to see that halo glitching from time to time

Personality: Silent, mysterious but helpful is what any RSA student would say about him. Nobody knows much about him other than that he is very closed with RSA's headmage. He has the curiosity of a child but with a wariness of someone who seen some things. However he has a tendency to break and corrupted any devices in anger since he does not like it when people took videos and pictures without his consent. He is very kind to everyone even the children and the elderly. He is wary of certain NRC students even during the tournaments. He is very secretive with his information but he only trust very people.

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂

-He is the headwarden of the House of Misfits

-He is best friends with Delona Bloodstone

-Selective mute

-He is mostly in the crowds, minding his business

-He had a habit of playing with his halo

-His familiar is Barn Owl name Stormy

-His um is..deadly but tame

-One of his eyes cry blood and even he did not know why

-His necklaces has a part of his um

-His first necklace is a choker while the second one is an upside down moon and a blood drop charm.

-His voice is actually deeper and more..husky to said the least(This is mainly the reason why he is so silent)

Unique Magic: Corrupting Illusions

"Illusions are either good or bad but if the illusions get out of control..there is no stopping the corruption. Corrupting Illusions"

Corruption Illusions is a um of Saturday's. It cause the person or people in questions to experience an illusions depending on their past which said illusions slowly getting corrupted to the point of insanity which can cause someone to faint and wake up with no memories of what happen. But the most common saying is; There are eyes in the corruptions and a demonic smile that seen in the distance.

Fun Fact: If you had an twst oc or any oc who is an angel, fallen angel or a demon, ya can bet ya asses he would avoid them like a damn plague due to his um and the fact of what he is

#Saturday Atelier #Rsa oc #twst oc #Rsa's enigma #Boy who cried blood

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choccy-zefirka · 4 months ago

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Found my old Alexius x Reader first kiss fic oh my

I write x reader fics very rarely, because it's tricky for me to minimize the reader insert's personality as much as possible, but when I do, it's apparently this XD

This is not your first time paying a visit to the Inquisition's Tevinter researcher. In fact, you have been seeking him out increasingly often as of late.

First, you needed to check how he has been adjusting to his sentence — after he got denied the kindness of a headsman’s swift, clean, blink-and-he-can-rest now downswing, and was put to work in service of the very mages he’d once used as bait to entrap you. You needed to make certain he wouldn’t get any inclinations to bolt free and rejoin the Venatori.

But then — then you started diverting your entire day of paperwork and demon slaying and elfroot gathering just so you two could talk. About… whatever, really. Mostly the arcane research he’s been working on. And lately, after cracks started appearing in the armor of hardened, dark ice that he is always wearing — also about himself. About Tevinter, and how much warmer it is than this craggy windblown gorge somewhere between Muddy Southern Backwater and Muddy Southern Backwater But With Gilding On Top. How much he misses it, his home, beautiful and twisted like the patterns on a cobra’s flaring hood. About how he could have changed for the better it if he had not given up. About Dorian, who is part of his home too, always will be, even across the chasm between him and his former mentor — and how this foolhardy misadventure, this little summer project of helping the Inquisition (personified by you, of course) had better be kind to him.

Over these long weeks, over all your visits — intrusive and unwelcome, begrudgingly expected, and ultimately… whatever this is — you have seen the former magister in so many utterly different surroundings. In a crammed, damp little corner behind a row of dungeon bars. And in another crammed little corner, albeit dry and with a wooden door, under the roof of Skyhold's mage tower. And now, here. This is not quite a corner any more. The magister’s latest quarters qualify as a full-fledged room. With a little hearth and enough space to sleep without rolling into a tight coil like a worm under a rock (his words, not yours), and even his very own writing desk and bookcase, which he was allowed to have as a reward for his “useful research findings”… Whether or not the mighty Inquisitor's personal favor played a part in this, shall stay between you and your advisors.

There is a guard at the door still. But otherwise, it is almost cozy.

You have seen him greet you with utterly different expressions too. A snarl of tethered hatred. A despondent stare, all interest in the world around him wiped blank. A tiny, uncertain, yet unmistakable inkling of a smile.

Tonight, however, he seems both agitated and sheepish. His brow is creased, but not in the same way as when he glared at you, his enemy, his target to be eliminated, from the throne he took from Arl Teagan. Nor in same the way as when he winced in pain, sitting beside you with his shoulders hunched — a prideful magister no more, just a lonely, aging man sorting through the tangled knot of his feelings about his lost family, his apprentice, and his homeland. No, his thoughts are somewhere else, though you cannot place where just yet.

His eyes seem huge and black in the poor flickering light, and you suddenly note the flakes of silver that glint around his pupils. They seem oddly bright, like scattered star dust. Well, mages' eyes are known to take on all manner of fantastical colors, aren't they?

Having been allowed the luxury of two (two!) chairs in his room, he motions you to sit in one of them, while perching on the other, which stands facing his desk. He then takes to rummaging through some papers, leaving you some moments to contemplate his profile: a velvety black shadow traced in fiery gold around the edges. Lost in taking in the soft curve of his nose, the stark outline of his cheekbone and jaw, you nearly fall off your seat when he speaks.

“I know I asked you to come here to discuss an important discovery, Inquisitor.”

He clears his throat and continues, in a rather apologetic tone.

“But in truth, you might now think that I am deceiving you. Again. Because, uh — this discovery of mine has nothing to do with a magical breakthrough, or with the Inquisition's cause. It is important to me, personally.”

He sucks in a tiny breath.

“But since you are my, dare I say, friend, I wanted to share it with you as well.”

Friend. There is something about the way he says it. A stumble in his voice, a hoarse quiver at the back of his throat. As though he were unused to the sheer idea of having friends again. Much less counting you, of all people, among them. In response, you feel an unconscious jolt in the pit of your stomach. But before you can make proper sense of it, he gets up and hands you a small, messily torn off scrap of paper: the little treasure that he has fished from the depths of his desk. After you take it from him, he remains hovering by your side, interlacing his fingers in restless anticipation.

It is always... curious to see his hands out of the unwieldy, long-clawed Venatori gauntlets. Or out of the protective gloves that he sometimes wears during magical experiments. Or, for

that matter, out of the frizzy, fraying mittens that he wears outdoors, grumbling about the southern cold under his breath. Who made sure that he — the last person the quartermaster would ever want to take into consideration — would not be left behind when the Inquisition’s mages were receiving their winter robes… That, too, shall stay between you and your advisors.

His bare fingers are long, slender, stained with alchemical reagents. Callused where the quill must rest against them... Warm, when they briefly brush over yours.

The jagged little slip that he has given you is crisscrossed by jumping, squarish scribbles — in a child's hand.

MiSTer ALeKSeeUS, THanK YOo fOr YOu aЯE MADGiK LEsSoИs.MY DrEAms aЯE nOt SCarEy No MOЯе. YOoo AЯе noT SCArey TOOO!

[Mister Alexius, thank you for your magic lessons. My dreams are not scary no more. You are not scary too!]

“One of the mage children that I have been helping tutor sneaked this into my copy of the textbook when I turned away. Quite a feat of stealth. She will need to consider expanding her curriculum — add some rogue training under that ever-cheerful dwarven scout of yours.”

He seeks to meet your gaze, while his eyebrows arch a little and the corners of his lips travel

upward, in a slow, hesitant pull. There is that smile again.

Somehow, it always makes him look younger, lighting up his worn features, and adding more

starry glow to his eyes. Once hardened by desperation and near madness, his gaze is now soft, and wistful... And deep in a way you never noticed before.

“It is, perhaps, a foolish thing to take pride in,” he adds, casting his eyes down. His voice breaks up the pause just as it has grown so long, so heavy with things unsaid, that the air between the two of you gets close to turning viscous, binding you like two insects trapped in a single drop of amber.

“But I have little else... And if it were not for you, I would have had even less. You...”

Once more, the smile returns, and lingers, as his eyes dart up to look back at you. The amber sap condenses further. The pull of its golden glow seems too much to overpower. You are about to be trapped, you feel, just like you were in Redcliffe. And yet nothing like that at all.

“You have been more merciful to me than I deserve, Inquisitor, and I think some of this mercy is beginning to… rub off on me.”

The drop of amber is fully formed. Perfectly golden. Encasing you and him in heady proximity. On an impulse, you get up, gently extend the hand with the child's letter and press it over his heart.

The gesture startles him — perhaps just as much as it startles you — and while he still stands frozen, you lean in closer, and find his bare fingers, bringing his hand to rest over yours... And kiss him.

He spends the next moment or two in the same thunderstruck, petrified state, letting you catch at his lips. It is only when your tongue slips deeper that he reciprocates, melting into your embrace, his whole being a sigh of relief personified. With one hand still holding on to yours, he moves the other along your back, and you sense flashes of his old desperation in his greedy grip around the folds of your clothing. You can almost imagine him wearing his gauntlet again, with those long, sharp claws digging in. Part of you, unexpectedly, madly, wishes he was actually wearing it. You shudder, imagining the iceburn of metal against your skin, and the tide of heat within you, amber turning to molten sweetness, is enough to drown you both.

“In... Inquisitor...” he chokes when he tears away, dazed, with his eyes half-lidded and brimming over with more starlight than ever before.

In a breathless whisper, you tell him your first name, and he mouths back his own. You heard it spoken before on a few occasions, in the pompous drawl of his lackey announcing his arrival at Redcliffe, in the dry business monotone of Josephine listing off his numerous crimes against the mages of southern Thedas… But never like this.

Gereon.

Three syllables' worth of air before he takes you on another dive into the amber heat. Before he kisses you again.

This is not your first time paying a visit to the Inquisition's Tevinter researcher, and far from the last.

There is a guard at the door still, but whether or not the mighty Inquisitor will have him look away, shall stay between you and your advisors. While everything else stays between you and Gereon.

#dragon age #dai #gereon alexius #x reader #reader romance #dragon age fanfiction #there has been some resurgence in old man enjoyment thanks to emmrich #so... i will appreciate some interaction!

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aerospectrum · 4 months ago

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@homelander-rp-blog asked: ∗ o1﹕ sender tucks hair out of receiver’s face . (for Cas) 100 nonverbal prompts :: OPEN

Castiel stands shackled to the floor by his ankles and wrists in the center of the cell. He’s no stranger to scare tactics but this guy barely scratches the surface of intimidation. He squints in judgement at the Supe, watching him approach with long strides and his chest puffed with his arms behind his back, playing high and mighty compared to the angel. There’s an air of humiliation to Cas' capture; forcefully exposed in an experimental setting; his wings stretched out on display with no way for him to cover himself or hide from prying eyes. Cas doesn’t flinch when Homelander grabs and tilts his face up to examine his damage, he can feel the hero’s boots against his barefeet and he doesn’t blink when the man raises a finger to tuck a strand of wet, dark hair from his face with a menacing chuckle.

Cas glares deeper when Homelander speaks the words with a bold smile, “And here, I thought your kind were supposed to be the good guys.”

“Read the Bible- angels are warriors of god, I’m a soldier.” Cas bristles when he feels Homelander's fingers card invasively along the tops of his dark feathers pulled taut by hooked chains behind him. “get your fucking hands off me.” He warns.

#homelanderrpblog #c; homelander (you are dark and i kind of like it)#c; castiel ( the abandoned son)#v; lab specimen #/i hope this au is ok!

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kyogre-blue · 1 year ago

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Staring the Kingdom half of CF!

The standout point is obviously the interplay regarding Arianrhod. Taking it is part of a strategy to attack Fhirdiad in a pincer maneuver, but a side goal is killing Cornelia, who Edelgard and Hubert know is an Agarthan. The whole thing is cloaked in plausible deniability and doubletalk, but Arundel pretty much immediately retaliates by dropping javelins of light onto Arianrhod as a warning. Of course, Edie then proceeds to lie and claim the church did it. Woof.

As a side note, there was a lot of supports this chapter because I went to the monastery a few times and ate a bunch of meals. I don't care too much for the Black Eagles, so I didn't have too many impressions (though some pairings seem to work better than others imo), but one interesting thing is that Edelgard is... hm, more patient that I would necessarily give her credit for?

I know people say they admire her drive and determination, but given her nonsense and unfounded goals, I never really saw those as positives. However, I have to say her self-control is quite impressive. She really can keep a straight face through anything (only giving actual emotional reactions to Byleth once she's very comfortable with them) - compare to Claude quite easily losing his cool and getting defensive if something hits too close to home. But she also keeps a very even keel when dealing with the Black Eagles' "quirks." In particular, she's quite calm in regard to Bernadetta's nonsense in a way that is quite humanizing.

It's not anything deep, but I did find it interesting.

Live blogging:

Hum... the way they go "we're marching to Fhirdiad!... except we're not! we're going to Arianrhod!" really feels like they realized they needed to squeeze in at least one more chapter to pad out the route. Edelgard's promotion to Emperor class also feels very random.

In-universe, we're sending most of the army toward the capital, while our little group goes to assault a famous fortress. Somehow. How are we even reaching it...

Hubert and Edie know about Cornelia having a "weapon" (Titanus, as we see later).

Lysithea is touched at being trusted with this secret plan (as part of the strike force) and says she's now fully into Edie's cool aid. Petra likes surprise tactics. Leonie... does not. She slips up and calls it cowardly lol.

Felix insists he's totally cool with betraying his homeland and his family, he'll kill his king, his father and the goddess, you just watch... but his sword feels heavy u.u

Ingrid says she's... not cool with being a traitor everyone who ever loved her, but you see, she must because uh Byleth said so and she trust Byleth (and their C rank in lances or whatever it was).

Sylvain is thinking about Dimitri and wants to train. He's mentioned before that he's afraid he'll get killed in battle, as well as the rest of us.

Dimitri is called the Tempest King because there's nothing left in his wake, like after a storm.

Edelgard has locked herself in her room. She also painted a portrait of Byleth. Sure, ok.

120 years ago, the Southern Church in the empire "had a massive insurrection" and the bishop who participated was exiled by the emperor. Boy, the Empire sure has a lot of insurrections, huh?

Bernie has decided she wants to travel and draw pictures of (cute carnivorous) plants she sees.

Caspar's supports with Petra and Shamir both bring up his feelings of guilt about his father's and the empire's war and the human toll of that. It's... kind of something that both of them seem to mostly sidestep the issue in the end.

I think the quest to get the dark merchant to appear on this route only gives you... Brigid and bandit battalions, so the Morfis battalion being linked to it on SS was just a coincidence, I guess.

Arianrhod is a fortress city that was built about 400 years ago. It was built by the Empire (using their "money and technology") against the Kingdom, I guess during their independence war. However, the head of House Rowe betrayed the empire and sided with the kingdom, making it change hands right before its completion. It has not fallen since. It's called the Silver Maiden due to its beautiful white walls.

Cornelia brought some Titanus with her, along with dark mages and... Gwendal. She tells the Titanus(es?) to go ahead and kill Kingdom troops too.

Doesn't seem to be any special dialogue for Cornelia vs Edelgard.

Immediately after we beat up Cornelia, Arundel comes over lol. Lots of double talk between him and Edelgard but the main point is that, per the paralogue, Edelgard is beginning to act more impudently toward the Agarthans, since she is gaining more and more power and getting closer to her goal (after which, they're next on the chopping block). This includes intentionally targeting Cornelia while still maintaining deniability about how she totes didn't know Cornelia was an Agarthan mole.

btw, the fact that I know we do not have a section for fighting the Agarthans on this route is high-key ridiculous, given the buildup.

The Agarthans nuke Arianrhod as a warning, though that's uh... quite pointless, honestly. Based on Hubert's panicked reaction and Edelgard's obvious surprise, they did not know this was a thing.

However, they had previously investigated Aillel and thought it was the goddess's doing. They know better now... but that won't stop them from blaming it on the church anyway!

The scene of Edelgard calmly lying to the crew is amazing as a contrast. I haven't seen whatever equivalent there is on AM, but iirc VW had a pretty direct parallel where Claude explains stuff to the team. It had the usual Church Bad issues, but that's at least his honest perspective and not... flat lying. This route is really just lies all the way down.

#playing fire emblem

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aerospectrum · 5 months ago

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”she’s a firm believer in staring someone down until they make a move, but I told her you-.” He’s cut off by another kiss and feels himself practically melt into the touch. He doesn’t want this moment to end— he knows it will.. it has to; someone will inevitably come around the corner searching for a book and it’ll end what feels like the only moment that’s ever mattered. But it still doesn’t mean he ready for it to.

john admits his crush and cas finds himself laughing gently into the kiss out of happiness. He slides his hands downward and wraps them around john’s waist, interlocking his fingers at the small of his back. “I wish this never had to end.” he breathes against the other’s lips; enjoying the close comfort of hugging his body against his and how gentle john could actually be. he wasn’t used to gentleness from anyone and though he’d never tell john of his own past he had a few subtle inclinations that the boy had his own experiences with pain as well.

"wait! she knows too?" it was John's turn to blush this time "oh God.. I knew her meaningful smirks were aimed for me!" he groans, pushes his messy blonde hair out of his face but then gives a shrug "who cares anyway.. hm?" he kisses Cas again "want to hear a secret? yeah you were that annoying boy but never you thought why you were annoying? I had a crush on you, too, idiot!" and they kiss again..

#homelanderrpblog #c; homelander (you are dark and i kind of like it)#c; castiel ( the abandoned son)

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defilerwyrm · 2 years ago

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Hello, thanks so much for your last post! I hope this isn't insensitive, but I'd be really interested to know: What helped you get out of right wing ideology? Do you have any advice for helping people out? Thanks!

It was a combination of things over time.

This turned out to be pretty long so I’m gonna put it under a cut. CW for discussions of various forms of right-wing bigotry within.

a) In the midst of a LiveJournal slapfight, I said something that I absolutely in no way meant or even conceived as being misogynistic, but was clearly taken as such, and was chewed out for it. I went “Tap the brakes, what are you talking about?!” and the gal I was arguing with was kind enough (not nice, but kind) to lay it out for me. And I listened. That started me thinking.

b) I realized that the far right that I vaunted literally wants people like me (queer and disabled) dead. I spent a long time in denial about this, thinking I would be an exception somehow.

c) I dug more into the true nature of white pride groups and discovered that, far from an honorable community of people who are simply proud of their heritage, groups like the Aryan Brotherhood are actually murderous, hyperviolent gangs—in some cases, literal prison gangs—of drug dealers, domestic abusers, and straight-up racists, and I couldn’t reconcile that with my notions of honorable behavior.

d) I actually read Mein Kampf. At first it was mostly curiosity and a way to keep people from talking to me in public. Book 1 (the first half) you can kinda see where he’s coming from, wanting a strong, self-sustaining domestic economy, not relying overly on imports, etc; but Book 2 is where he goes completely off the fucking rails, just utterly batshit, and you can tell it’s coming not from a place of “I want to rebuild my homeland after we were devastated by the aftermath of WWI and the Great Depression” but rather “I have a raging hateboner for this specific group of people who had fuck-all to do with that devastation and will make up just the wildest shit to justify and proselytize that hate.” I didn’t have any strong opinions on Jewish folk then so it really whipped my head back. It’s one thing to learn, in the vague terms that my Texas public school education provided me, about the surface facts of the Holocaust, but I don’t think I had any clue what the depths of the vitriol that led to that horror looked like until I heard it from the horse’s mouth. C and D were the big things that showed me that “white pride” isn’t about finding joy in your heritage—it’s about harboring a deep, dark, hideous hatred for others’ heritage. I did not like that.

e) An element that only in recent years occurred to me, but I think an extremely important one: I did not have a right-wing community. All I had in the way of friends & associates were fairly apolitical, mostly queer people who looked the other way when it came to my horrific personal politics. I think I knew at the time that they were unpopular views (or at least, they were in at the turn of the century) and mostly kept them to myself. As I came to accept and understand my own queerness more deeply, as I lived within the poor queer community of my hometown, as I made friends with more and more diverse groups of people, I found things within myself to be proud of, and those close to me—the very people whom the far right still want dead—welcomed me, guided me, supported me. No one on the right was there for me that way. I didn’t have a cluster of far-right friends beating their noxious values back into my head at every turn. The community I had vs the community I didn’t have made it a lot damn easier to make that heel-face turn.

With all that in mind, I think I can offer two pieces of advice:

Understand that far-right ideology is fundamentally built on anxiety and insecurity. Racists, misogynists, homophobes etc latch onto their identities as white, men, straight etc because it’s something they did not have to work for/on and cannot be removed from them, so they hold up these intrinsic traits as things that make them “superior” to others despite evidence to the contrary. Look at how many out-of-shape, mediocre white men brag that they could win a tennis match against Serena or Venus Williams. They don’t think they’re good at tennis—and they are absolutely not going to go through the years of extremely challenging work and practice and dedication required to get that good—they think they’re superior because they’re white men, even though factually either of the Williams sisters would destroy them blindfolded. The reason they go out of their way to make these ridiculous claims is because they feel insecure that someone who isn’t white and a man is better than them at something. This is also what’s behind the whole “Oh they just chose/should choose the best person for the job”—they’re saying they don’t believe someone who isn’t an abled cishet white man COULD be the best person for the job, regardless of what the job is. I don’t think the answer to this is just to point out the innumerable amazing achievements of people of color, queer folk, disabled folk, etc, because they’ll just go “yeah well MY people did xyz.” They’re feeling insecure. What they need is something about themselves to be proud of that they, personally, accomplished: being a good woodworker, or a talented speaker, or a whiz at math, some skill they have worked to foster. What they need is a sense of confidence that their worth is not dependent on what they were born with/as. For me, learning to value myself for who I am and who I can choose to be helped me stop looking down on others for what they are and did not choose to be, because I no longer needed imaginary metrics of superiority and inferiority to prop up a lack of self-worth and an iceberg’s worth of self-loathing.

Separate them from their herd. Understand that many will choose the security of the familiar over the risk of the new. But familiarity does not breed contempt—it opens eyes. A LARGE part of far-right ideology is made up of lies and assumptions and outright ignorance. Don’t just dunk them into the deep end right away, but exposure therapy is the name of the game. It’s a lot easier to think of (for example) Black people as being inferior to you when you don’t freaking know any, or to think of trans people as just a niche category of porn if you’ve never actually talked—and LISTENED—to us. Understand that right-wing social circles are vicious, internecine places where everyone is frothing at the mouth to pull someone down the instant they misstep, and they will expect the same from a left-wing circle. “Well actually” might be your friend here, rather than rubbing their nose in every fuckup or shitty thing they say. The goal is to, you know, teach them how to care about other people, and you have to model that for them. Offer other ways of looking at things instead of just “no, that’s wrong.” This can be an arduous and painful process for everyone, but if their mind can be pried open, it will be worth it in the end.

#racism cw #homophobia cw #how i learned to stop being a horrific fuckhead #replies to things

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shivunin · 2 years ago

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Character songs tag game

Game rules: Choose one of your characters and list songs that fit them.

I am also going to do one for each (but I am only picking one Lavellan cus... well. There's five.) c: Thanks for the tag, @greypetrel, I forgot about Fever Ray entirely and I am now listening to this whole album again!

Arianwen Tabris:

"There's no turning back now/I can't be saved/And in the next life they'll remember me."

This is the song I imagine playing while Wen goes on her post-wedding rampage :)

"It's a beautiful night for a bloodbath/well, darlin' dance with me/Feel the beat in your chest, let your feet do the rest/And make this dance complete."

This just has such good knife fight vibes to me, and I feel like it kind of captures her relationship with Zev.

"You wake up a stranger to yourself/and then you learn to live with her/sit in her clothing til you fill out her figure"

Maria Hawke:

"When you strain your eyes to find the light, I won't be far behind/Cus it's better in the dark when you're a friend of mine."

"I'm having a great time/being the punchline of my own joke/I think I'm gonna be fine/This comedy of mine, I laugh so hard I choke"

"Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all/ I'll bless my homeland till I die."

I can't hear this song without picturing her climbing onto the ship to Kirkwall, ragged and wounded and recovering from the loss of a sibling. And she can't see Ferelden soil as they sail away, because the docks are so full of refugees fleeing the Blight that you can't even see the ground they stand on.

Salshira Lavellan:

No specific lyrics--just the whole song tbh. "I am just living my life, doesn't really matter what I'm doing. I'm me." Salshira vibes.

"Fortune's never been mine/it's fine/I'll take red over gold/Love's never come right on time/Signs still scream at me not to fold"

(this is also what I think her voice sounds like c:)

"It's like waking up in surgery/can't see right past the lights and I'm/so scared to take a knife to my chest/let you see the heart that's inside"

Edit: I forgot to tag anyone lol!! If you want a tag, comment your favorite weather and I will tag you c:

#salshira lavellan #maria hawke #arianwen tabris #i have playlists for all of them ofc that's why this took so long lol #Spotify

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operation-619 · 3 years ago

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Sancturay

Homelander X Innocent!Reader (female). PT.2

So the original fic just received 300 likes and I said to myself if it get to that number than a sequel is coming. And here it is. This Fic will have a dark tone to it so please read at your own risk. I am so sorry it took so long, but it is what it is. if you enjoy please leave a comment about what you liked and don’t be afraid to reblog and reach out for some requests of your own.

Words: 6.2K

Summary: Homelander has found himself too drunk on (Y/N), so he took a break from the one good thing he knows hoping his infatuation will calm down. However, upon return. the sweetness he’s tried so hard to resist tempt him once again to dip his fingers in. She’s his opioid, and he’s her Sanctuary.

Warnings: Dub/Con elements, language, manipulation, mentions of VIOLENCE, Smut, Homelander basically using the readers naivety against her, Major Character!Death.

Bold italics are inner thoughts

italics are past events

[masterlist] - Part One

enjoy 619 xox

Home for (Y/N) was never really a place or a person. Home for her was more of a feeling, it was a deep, gut wrenching feeling that left her dizzy if she was too caught up in it. Because that feeling was always associated with a certain man, a man that flew with American pride upon his wide shoulders.

A man that had everyone’s eye and fingers follow him as he shot through the sky on his next quest to save a damsel in distress. But he was the very same man that did anything but save (Y/N), those who had the privilege of laying there tainted eyes upon the couple could vaguely see that red flags would plant themselves in their footsteps, but those same footsteps were washed away like footprints in the sand when (Y/N)’s laughter would echo of the pristine walls at Vought. The glimmer in her eyes would only grow stronger when she was in his presence.

The feeling of security and adoration drenched those around the two, the way she glowed in his presence was otherworldly. The air was alway light and free. (Y/N) was happy and safe, because now that feeling of home and personified into a being so beautiful and kind that she felt out of place if she wasn’t in his arms.

Her home was John.

And it could almost be said the same for The Homelander, there was a tether that yanked itself painfully whenever she was away from him, his brain and heart fluttering in confusion whenever she’d smile up to him with those damn (E/C) eyes. He was convinced it was nothing, so he let it be just that - nothing.

Four days.

He went four days without (Y/N) in his life, and regrettably it was by choice.

How stupid of him.

On the first day, he remembered how his whole body felt rejuvenated, his lungs were able to properly expand without fear of breathing her scent in. His heart felt healthier without the constant stopping and restarting. And his head - his head felt lighter than a fucking feather, no thoughts colliding together about what she was doing, if she’d eaten. He felt free. On the second day, time seemed to pass rather quickly to begin with; he saved a group of school children when their bus flipped on a bridge - their sticky hands left imprints on his suit, he also saved a bank from a group of protestors trying to bring attention to the fraud and embezzlement some CEO had been doing at a high end law-firm. He didn’t care what was going on, his record as of late had been pristine and he wasn’t going to let some whistle-blowing old man ruin that for him. However, come lunch time the hands on the clock seemed to slow down, with no (Y/N) to bring him lunch and ramble on about the day she had teaching children the importance of gardening and eating healthy, his mind came to a slow stop.

The routine they had been following for the past two years, three months and two weeks had just stopped, and he experienced something akin to a phantom limb. He knew she wasn’t beside him but his body automatically reacted, he could feel his pulse quicken with the anticipation of his (Y/N) walking around the corner any second. And he tried so hard to keep himself busy, but he’d catch himself watching the door waiting for his angel to come bouncing through any second. But those seconds turned into minutes, and those minutes turned into day three.

On day three he went to Madelyn, he sat in her office and watched her work for 25 minutes, he made mundane conversation with her. He watched her face, the way the corner of her mouth twitched and colour rushed to her cheeks whenever she’d look at the picture of her baby on her desk. He envied her, the feeling of being able to be so openly happy and in love. Having a person, no, the person that makes the pupils of her eyes dilated and her heart pound louder. It was sickening to him. He didn’t like jealousy a bit. He left her office with her sweet milk warming his stomach, and the post-orgasmic euphoria clouding his gaze. And as he walked into his room that night and caught his reflection he knew to himself that he could overcome this pointless infatuation, this disgusting vulnerability personified in the form of (Y/N).

“Your fucking Homelander, get a grip of yourself!”

And when the sun rose and its rays caressed the city of New York, John awoke with pride swelling his chest. And that pride lifted him high and propelled him through his morning. His shoulders were wide and taught as he walked his way down to the meeting room, hopes high and smile almost genuine as he walked past all the staff members scurrying around. His blue eyes shined with the new weightless feeling he had, like the stars were in reach for him and the air was light, ‘I should visit Madelyn more often’ as if the universe had smiled down on his, the woman in question came strutting around the corner, golden hair curled and caressing her face gently, skirt tight and hugging her ass and hips beautifully. The smile that graced her lips when she caught sight of him caused less than innocent thoughts to occur at the forefront of his mind.

“Homelander, you're a bit late this morning. I thought you would be in there already?” her voice carried itself to his ears, like honey it slowly trickled down and settled itself warmly in his stomach. He met her halfway as they both turned down the corridor leading to the meeting room, his shoulder shook as he chuckled at the mere notion of being late. So with a raise of his brow he replied back to her, “I’m not late, everyone else is just early. Anyway Ms Stillwell the meeting can’t happen until I have arrived.” Her response was a light laughter that made the pride in his chest swell further. She replied to him as they walked into the meeting room but all words were lost to him the moment his feet stepped past the threshold. It's as if he stopped functioning, his senses ceased leaving him exposed. But when they came back, it hit him so hard he felt like he was drowning.

He smelled her first, the sweet scent of coconut and home invaded his scent. It burst the pride swelling in his chest and instead pumped it full of regret and something heavy. His ears rang slightly as he registered her laughter, it was as if he had been going through withdrawal symptoms and had succumbed to temptation all over again. Her laughter echoed in his head making him dizzy, it felt too unreal, someone was playing a sick joke on him. (E/C) eyes, he could see her beautiful eyes from across the room, he could see the way they shined and scrunched up as she laughed at something Starlight said. He remembered that face she’d make, he would make her laugh over and over again just to look at that face.

Just once.

His gaze swept over her face, he could remember this feeling that sat itself deep inside of him when (Y/N) had to go away for a mission once. He couldn’t put his finger on that feeling, he himself had never felt like that before, but all he remembered was how intense it was.

So intense it made him act irrationally and kiss (Y/N).

He stole from her, her first kiss.

But at the same time she stole from him, because ever since then he felt like a piece of him was missing, but he felt whole again whenever he was with her. The touch of her skin, the softness of her lips is something that haunts him, like clouds with the sweetest taste. His mouth began to feel dry but simultaneously the taste of her flooded his tongue, the sweetness that just seemed to be embedded within his (Y/N).

His (Y/N).

“John?” His mind playing tricks on him again, he managed to go three whole days without hearing her voice invading his mind. He felt suffocated, the mere thought of being within a meter of (Y/N) sent goosebumps spiralling down his back. Fuck the idea of being the strongest hero on earth because right now he was about to give in to the weight of possibilities. The possibility of (Y/N) walking over to him with that captivating smile, the possibility of her not even looking his way.

The possibility of his (Y/N) leaving him without so much of a thought.

His heart swelled with the notions of these possibilities, it stuttered and felt close to breaking as he looked across the room to where (Y/N) was once standing. But confusion became apparent when he could make out the image of another man standing too close to his (Y/N). The apple of his eye soured and turned rotten when he witnessed the very same smile only reserved for his eyes spread across her face.

His eyes turned red with disgust, the feeling hot and an excruciatingly painful lump formed in his chest. Not a single element registered to him as his feet carried him over to them, his hand reached out and grabbed a hold of (Y/N)’s arm yanking her into his chest. He didn’t care for the whimper that left her mouth, no, his eye never strayed from the man in front of him.

He imagined the sound of the man’s screams as he broke each bone in his body nice and slowly so he could savour that harmonious sound of tendons and muscles ripping as the bones are wrenched out of their place. A smirk graced his face as he thought of the idea of burning a mark onto his face, or maybe disfiguring his face. Anything to keep him away from his (Y/N).

“John?” his mind reeled back as he focused on the woman in front of him, Madelyn’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion which made the wrinkles on her face more prominent. He blinked once, and then looked over to where (Y/N) was standing to find that she and the man had both disappeared. His attention was scattered everywhere trying to understand what was happening, his vivid imagination had taken him by surprise.

He was losing his mind.

“Yes, sorry. What did you say?” his voice sounded strange, strained as he looked back down at Madelyn hoping for any kind of answer.

“I said I'll be needing your input from the last mission.” He couldn’t remember his last mission, he was too busy thinking about her. “Apparently there is something bigger about to happen. White men and their need for power,” Stillwell left with a scoff and left him standing in his own puddle of confusion. His mind was spinning, reeling because the only thing on his mind was the very thing he spent four fucking days trying to forget. Four days isn’t enough time to come down from the high he always felt with her.

She was his opioid and he needed to withdraw quickly before he falls down the rabbit hole again. Because something deep inside of him tells him that this time, there will be no escaping.

_____

The sky turned sombre that afternoon, it turned grey as if it was mourning the loss of a friend, it wept for hours and hours drowning the people and nature below. The booming thunder vibrated through the whole city, shaking the building and sending a soft buzz through people's spines as it continued to mourn and weep. It grew darker and darker every minute making the people below scatter for any source of shelter - even if it is temporary, they were bracing themselves for an anxious night.

A constellation of light suddenly appeared lighting the dark world, they scattered themselves far across the trembling sky and struck the ground violently, this orchestra continued well into the late night.

Lifting her head up to the sky (Y/N) felt a smile slowly grace her wet face, she was in her sanctuary, at peace. The heaviness she let weigh her down for the past five days was being washed away by the rain that assaulted her skin with wet kisses. She breathed in deeply, feeling herself calm at the smell of wet grass, she could smell the freshness in the air from how high up she was.

John showed her this lookout point during one of their many lunch dates, he took her out for ice cream and a walk through the park. It was nothing new but she remembered it vividly because John was wearing civilian clothes, and it never fails to surprise her every single time. The way jeans hug his thighs and those white shirts accentuated his muscle and the small of his waist. He always complained about how uncomfortable they were, nevertheless he still wore them for her.

‘For me.’

She felt tears starting to surface at the memory, because that's all she had left now memories of the past, and she abused those memories until they felt real like she was still living them in the present because they were all she had for the past five days.

Five long excruciating days without the one human being she had by her side for so long. And for that she hated him, hated how he just left without some much as a word or a look, hated how whenever she saw him he looked like he was glowing, hated how euphoric he looked coming out of Madelyn Stillwell’s office with that stupid goofy smile on his face. And she hated him for the way her heart felt.

Weak, vulnerable.

Pitiful.

That’s what Kevin called her, “You look pitiful, sitting here looking out the window, all you really need now is for a violin to start playing for you (Y/N),” she leant her head on his shoulder and cried for an hour before he forced her outside. And her feet lead her to this cliff overlooking the city below. She stood and watched the people walk beneath her going on with their lives, oblivious to everything going on around them.

At first she found it humorous, watching people scuttering about like ants on a mission. But that feeling came back to pull at her heart, the overwhelming feeling of something caused her to lose control for a minute as she tried to figure out what was going on with her. She was so lost in herself she nearly jumped out of her skin when water splashed gently onto her face, she wiped her eye out of habit but her suspicions were left unanswered when her hand came back dry.

Then slowly more water fell onto her face, it was a small spatter of rain, something she does unconsciously when her emotions are all over the place. But as she stood there watching as a few raindrops fell here and there, she realised that - within those tortuous five days not once as she had that breakdown that everyone was expecting her to have. She was so fucking tired with the eggshells everyone was walking on around her it made her feel claustrophobic, like the whole godamm earth was about to shatter.

She inhaled deeply, letting the scent of wet grass and concrete settle comfortably in her lungs before she closed her eyes and lifted her head towards the sky. The familiar feeling rushed through her body; as if a lover was slowly tracing her body with the tip of their finger, starting from her heart and expanding to her ten fingers and ten toes.

Not long after the first eruption of thunder came, and then the sky was engulfed in dark clouds and lightning danced across the sky in an intricate ballet. (Y/N) lost herself in this exact moment, the chaos brought comfort to her soul.

It was her sanctuary.

“I thought I’d find you here,” the deep timbre of his voice ripped her from the edge of euphoria, the thought of being at peace for the first time in what felt like forever was slowly and painfully slipping away. His cape of lies was waving violently and mockingly in the wind, she used to love the way his uniform looked on him. The way it sculpted his body and the confidence that oozed out of him whenever he wore in front of her.

Now?

Now, she could only imagine Madelyn’s hands clawing down his back and twisting the cape in her hands as he ruts his hips into her on the sofa in her office, mouth slack and eyes bleary in ecstasy. She can only hear the moans and groans leaving their mouths instead of the children cheering in joy at the sight of his cape. And whenever she looked at his stupid, fucking perfect face all (Y/N) could see was Madelyn’s lipstick plastered over his skin like she was marking her territory.

‘She can have him!’

Her heart was stuttering as her mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the right letters to form the words she wanted, she probably looked like a fish gasping for oxygen. She felt deprived of it right now; the lack of it was making her fumble over basic basic words and god did she wish she could pull herself together. She be damned if she spent another hour thinking about him, she already wasted five days. The deep vibration of his chuckle pierced through her and caused her whole body to cease; she lost herself momentarily in his bemused and vivid blue orbs. She felt at peace suddenly. Did she?

“Did you just laugh at me?” The tone of her voice shocked not only herself but him, it was a lot stronger than he expected. Hostile.

“Sorry, you just looked shocked that all, I know I've been gone for a minute-” she scoffed at the way he brushed past the elephant in the room.

“More like four days.”

“Yes, four days. But I'm back now. And I wanted to talk to you.” He stepped forward and placed his hand on (Y/N) shoulders. The venom she felt boiling under her skin was like electricity, she could feel the hair on her neck become rigid as the air thinned and the rain quieted down.

“No.” she whispered, her voice quivering as his scent assaulted her sense.

He leaned in closer.

“What was that honey?”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” her voice grew tenfold as a roar of thunder exploded in the sky, her breathing became rapid as she tore herself away from him and paced closer towards the edge of the cliff. Her hands anxiously gripped her hair, hoping to find something to ground her because the one thing - person, that did is now someone that poisoned her heart.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was enough for her to know the confusion he was probably swimming in but right now in this moment she didn’t care. She had to get everything off of her chest, the very chest that was about to cave in at any moment under the pressure of…of everything.

“You lied.” she surprised even herself with how calm her voice sounded right now. “You said that I was the only one for you, the only one who has kissed you.” She felt her whole body heat up as the next words left her mouth.

“The only one to touch you in that way.” she could see the way John’s body froze as those words left her mouth, his hand suspended mid air still trying to reach out to her.

“(Y/N)?”

“So, John, imagine the surprise when I find out that not only are you not in Kazakhstan but here in New York, hell in Vought.” her hands started to shake as everything came apart, the fortress she built for her stupid emotions - breaking, the block she built for the scenes she witnessed - crumbling, and the façade she had prepared for the confrontation - disintegrated the moment his eye latched itself onto her soul again.

She only just managed to pry him off. Only just.

“The deep told me that I was imagining things you know, I never really liked him because you always told me he was weird like Translucent. But he’s sweet, once you look past the obvious, Kevin is an honest guy.” she was ranting, her nervousness made her skittish.

“Who the fuck is Kevin?” he sounded offended like she was keeping a secret from him, something he never allowed.

‘Another red flag (Y/N)!’

“The deep! His name is Kevin, because unlike you I asked. Unlike you I'm not selfish and care about others!” it hurt to raise her voice; it was still sore from the days she spent weeping, “Unlike you I don’t lie to the people I love.” her façade was long gone now, in pieces at her feet along with the wish that it was all a lie, a game that everyone but her knew the rules to.

“(Y/N), please let me just explain-”

“No!” she charged forward as she cut him off, she stood closer to him this time within arms reach of him and yet she wasn’t focused on the familiar scent assaulting her nose again. No, she was focusing on anything but that. “Because I already know everything.”

(E/C) eyes bore into the labyrinth of oceanic blue, if eyes were a window to the soul then he had his locked and blinded a long time again because she now realised that glimmer she once admired was merely the reflection of her own soul, the one he latched onto and bled dry since the first day he met her.

“You told me that you only loved me, that you only kissed me. That you only touched me. So John imagine my surprise when I see you doing those, those things to Ms Stillwell. You lied to me when you said nothing was going on and I was stupid enough to believe you.”

Red filled her vision as the wisps slowly encased her hands, the rage she was feeling was otherworldly as the look of shock washed over his face. He thought he was slick enough for it to go unnoticed this whole time. She knew, deep down she knew. She just didn’t want their perfect bubble to burst.

“(Y/N), baby, let me explain.” his gloveless hands slowly, cautiously came up and caressed her cheek. He wiped the tear that trickled down, it felt loving. Familiar.

“I did it to protect us, to protect you.”

“I’m a warrior, John. I don’t need protection.” his grip grew more firm at her words, as the rain started to pick up again battering down against their naked flesh. Her clothes were sticking to her frame, so was his suit but he didn’t care because he came for one thing and he held it in his hands. Held her in his hands.

“From Madelyn you do, she's everything at her fingertips. Her and Edgar are close. She has a request and I follow.” he sounded desperate, like he needed her to understand and she did. She understood that everything that came out of his mouth was a fuckling lie and she had been manipulated to the point where Kevin called it Stockholm Syndrome without the kidnapping.

____

“The obsession he has over you is not as much as the one he made you develop, all he needs is to take you to a remote cabin in the woods and you have a classic case of Stockholm (Y/N).” Her feet swung solemnly in the air as she sat on top of the table, it was slowly coming together, the pieces of the well scattered puzzle were being found, and as it pained her to put it together she had to know.

A sob left her throat as she came to the realisation of how much she depended on ‘America’s No.1’ she spent almost every waking hour with him, she only just came to know The Deep’s name. Kevin, his name was Kevin Moskowitz and it was a really nice name. If John was still here he would be livid to find the two of them sat so closely, but over the past five days Kevin had become a breath of fresh air for her.

“It’s hard I understand, you spent a lot of time with him. But now that he’s not here clouding your judgement you’ll be able to see how fucked up it is.” her vision became blurry with the amount of tears forcing themselves out, she didn’t want to admit it but it was true.

“I love him, and I don’t know what to do.” she hiccuped as she wiped the snot from her nose with her wrist, she looked forward as she remembered everything she had been through in the past 76 hours. The moment she walked into the meeting room and saw John balls deep in Madelyn’s cunt is the moment everything halted. Her flight or fight reflexes kicked in a moment too late, because she can still vividly picture the look on their faces, the sounds they were making and the stench of sex.

But what traumatised her was the look Madelyn gave her, a look of victory, achievement. She knew what she was doing as she maintained eye contact as she kissed John, as she moaned loudly as she came for him. It was all (Y/N) needed to turn around and numbly walk out of there. And for the next 76 hours everything started to reveal itself too fast for her to comprehend.

“What do I do?” she whimpered quietly as she watched the sun shine through the window, she was surprised that she was able to maintain that small amount of control to keep the storm at bay. It was fitting really, the whirlwind of emotions inside her was crushing like a constant tsunami drowning her again and again, uncontrollably. And yet she was able to control everything outside perfectly, without a hitch.

“You look pitiful, sitting here looking out the window, all you really need now is for a violin to start playing for you (Y/N),” his voice broke her out of her realisation, she smiled as she looked over to him accepting her fate. And with that she felt the dam break again, because in all honesty the plaster she used to temporarily patch it up with was bound to come undone at some point. She let her head fall to his shoulder as she went through break down No.32 and there in that moment she was glad that Kevin was there for her, she was glad someone was there for her.

____

(Y/N) looked up at his devastatingly lucid blues, she could see her reflection as the lighting erupted in the sky. She looked ethereal with the way her eyes shone with tears, almost poetic.

Her hand came up to caress his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheek bone out of habit. It reminded her of that night, where she let him undo her piece by piece. Delicate kisses and hands traced her skin like porcelain, she was at her most vulnerable in that moment; bare for him, laid out on his bed with her heart practically in her hands. She remembered the words he whispered to her as she drowned in the most euphoric wave she had ever felt. The skills he had with his tongue and hands had her a whimpering puddle by the time he settled himself between her legs, the sweet stretch of him is something she never got used to.

But there in that moment, the two of them became closer than they had ever been. She realised in that moment the love and adoration she felt for this man was overpowering, catastrophic.

“You know John,” the hopefulness that shone in his eyes was almost pitiful, it tugged at her heartstring.

But she cut those off herself 76 hours ago.

“What my love?” His caress softened as he leaned in closer, their forehead touching.

“I can’t believe I was infatuated with a bastard like you.”

Her heart stuttered as the words echoed back to her, the venom in her voice was evident she could tell by the passive look that overtook his feature. Everything stood still for a second too long as his breathe stuttered as he exhaled.

“You don’t mean that. Right (Y/N)?” His question was left unanswered the first time. The softness in his voice petrified the woman in question. But she remained firm.

Suddenly, without warning that loving hand slid down from her cheek and nestled itself against the side of her neck. His thumb ran firmly up and down the length of her trachea.

He applied pressure as he asked again, “you don’t mean it baby, do you?” He whined as her eyes narrowed, daring him to continue. He let go when he realised what he was doing ‘this is no way to win her back.’

He mumbled an apology and carded his fingers rough through his hair, but gave up as the rain continued to battle against him. He paced backward, his hand settled on his hips as he rambled anxiously, hoping anything he said could at least please (Y/N).

“Your right I shouldn’t have lied, but you have to believe me,” her face told him it wasn’t working.

“I’ve always wanted what’s best for you,” not this either.

“I need you to trust me, what I did-“ or this.

“(Y/N), please! I love you.” His eyes widened when he saw her look up at him. Her (E/C) eyes appeared crystallised with the tear that houses themselves in her orbs. He sucked in a sharp breath as she came closer to him, her bottom lip trembling as she opened her mouth to confess her love and come back to him.

“Fuck you.”

‘No, no! That’s not right!’

He surged forward before he thought twice about his movements. Hands wrapping around her beautiful neck he squeezed hard, rage filled his vision as he watched her eyes. Her bewitching eyes stared into his. His mind was floating on the edge of fantasy and reality, he needed her. His (Y/N).

‘It’s okay my love, you just didn’t know what you were talking about’

Her hands clawed at his wrists clambering on for any kind of purchase, her ears were filled with the sounds of her desperation to breathe, to live.

The storm around them grew angrier, thunder screeched as it tumbled through the sky, the rain turned abusive with how hard it hit the ground. (Y/N) closed her eyes, feeling the burn of her lover's hand on her neck getting tighter and tighter with each passing second. Unexpectedly a flash of light causes her eyes to open, lighting strikes the ground around them. In a dance, illuminating the poetic end to its master. Each strike shook the ground they stood on but he didn’t move, no he knew that no matter the pain he put (Y/N) through she would never hurt him.

And she knew the same.

So without a thought she put her hands down, and let the last breath leave her wrecked body. Her battered soul sagged in relief as the fight she had been dragging her body through ended. She didn’t care anymore, the warrior’s armour had broken and an arrow had pierced her heart and wrenched it out her chest. That pain that she thought was eternal, faded away as each millisecond passed.

She closed her eyes and was finally at peace.

“No, no, no, no!” He dropped her in terror. He stared at his hands as he came to the realisation of what he’d just done.

‘No, no, no!’

John dropped to his knees and quickly grabbed (Y/N)’s head and placed it on his chest, he wailed as her limp body fell against his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen, how did he lose control so quickly?

“(Y/N)?” He gently tapped her cheek, watching as her skin rippled at the small force. He couldn’t see properly with the rain invading his vision, how did he lose control so quickly?

“(Y/N),” his voice grew quiet as he wiped the water off her face, she looked so peaceful. So beautiful.

But the disfigurement of her neck screamed at him, taunting him for what he did to his love.

His (Y/N).

“Shhh, my dove. It’s okay,” he right hand caressed the back of her head as he fell backward and sat onto the floor, his left arm wrapped round the rest of her body as he gently rocked back and forth, whispering her favourite song under his breath.

He needs the distraction. Because how did he lose control so quickly?

____

“‘I've got sunshine on a cloudy day, When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May.’” Warm arms wrapped around her waist as she finished mixing the eggs. A smile graced itself onto her face as she turned her head to the side, a laugh followed the kiss that was placed sloppily on her cheek.

“What song are you singing, dove?” His voice vibrated through her whole body as he walked around the island and sat opposite her, to admire his favourite view. She gasped as her (E/C) eyes snapped to his face, her covered in a look of offence.

“You don’t know my favourite song?” She waved the whisk accusingly at John, a smile replacing the offended look plastered on her face when he got egg remnants on his forehead.

“You don’t sing for me often, I didn’t know you had a nice voice,” he was smooth with the diversion, smooth enough that it had her face heating. She stuck her tongue out at John and quickly turned around to place the eggs into the pan; the sudden compliment had her heart stuttering, the breath knocked out of her lungs.

She jumped as a hand crept round and brushed the hair from the left side of her face, it was soon replaced by a pair of soft lips kissing the shell of her ear tentatively, a hand followed suit and delicately placed itself on the curve of her hips. Careful of the bruises from last night's activities, it slithered round the small bulge of her stomach and settled on the other side, only to slowly pull her into his frame.

“Can I please know your favourite song, I wanna know everything about my girl,” his sentence was followed by a shout of laughter. It startled him. He wasn’t expecting that response.

The body between his hands turned around and placed her hand in his hips, she tipped her head backwards so she could see him. That smile turned tenfold as it stretched across the expanse of her glowing face.

“My Girl.” (Y/N) mumbled lazily as she squeezed John, giggling at the confusion that filled his eyes.

“‘I guess you'd say, What can make me feel this way

My girl.’ The song is called My Girl.”

They swayed gently as she sang softly, in bliss wrapped in the arms of her one and only. She could never be more content. More at peace, here with her home.

Her sanctuary.

____

His bleary eyes looked down at his Dove, glowing in the light that illuminated the sky sporadically.

“‘My girl, my girl, my girl, Talkin' 'bout my girl.”

He sputtered as the tears fell, mixing with the rain that fell onto (Y/N)’s face. His (Y/N). The very one that made him lose control so quickly, he traced the outline of her face as if mapping every minute detail his scattered brain could remember in this moment. He lost control so quickly, and this was the one consequence he didn’t even think to imagine.

“‘I've got sunshine on a cloudy day with my girl, I've even got the month of May with my girl’” he remembered the adoration painted on her face the day she sang her song for him, he thought it fitted her well because she was after all his girl.

But he didn’t know how to live without his girl.

But he didn’t want to think of that right now, so he sang her song as he gently swayed them. The only calm in the raging storm. He sang to her lovingly as he held her dead body in the one place she felt at peace.

He gazed lovingly at her face; he lost control so quickly because she drove him mad. Insane. But he loves her no matter what. ‘How am I going to live without you?’ He brought his face closer to hers and gently kissed her still warm lips.

The roar of the thunder brought him back to reality, he hugged her gently as he continued to sing, praying that somewhere, somehow she could still hear him as he sat with her in his hands.

The very same hands that killed her. The very same hands that made her feel safe, that made her feel pleasure, pain, regret. The hands that made her vulnerable and courageous at the same time. The hand that strangled the life out of her here, in her safe space.

“‘Talkin' 'bout my girl.”

But really, there is no better place to die than your sanctuary.

________

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@naniky

#Homelander x innocent!reader #homelander x reader #homelander #theboys #madelyn stillwell #the deep #smut #dub/con #manipulation #sequel #superheroes #innocent!reader

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