#lucas hood

[bodybebangin]

[graycatladyyyy80]

Some beautiful Antony Starr for your Monday. 🤤🥰😍😍😍😍

[dilfgifs]

ANTONY STARR as LUCAS HOOD Banshee (2013 - 2016) S03E03 “A Fixer of Sorts”

[parasocial-suicide]

banshee screencaps (2/?)

[johnwzedits]

antony starr icons.

[sheifflucashood]

starter number 5 (open)

Lucas Hood faces the mirror at the sheriff's department. No one around. My name is Lucas Hood, and im the sheriff too. Banshee. He repeats like a mantra so much so that he believes it. Then he sighs to himself inward. Come on, Thomas, stop lying to yourself. This is not going to work forever. He thought to himself as the door to the police station opened up. He popped his head out to see who it is.

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

[itsgreti]

LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS

pairing. lucas hood x f!reader

summary. (Y/N) was harassed by a drunk man, but before the situation escalated, lucas hood, the town's sheriff, appeared and intervened.

warning. slight harassing

word count. 1k

a/n: there are ony few fics about him, so i'm gonna solve this problem. english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me!

(Y/N) had just moved to Banshee a few weeks ago, drawn by the promise of a quieter life and the chance to make a difference in the small-town hospital. She loved her job as a nurse, and even though the days were long and the nights longer, she felt a deep sense of fulfilment every time she helped a patient.

One night, after an exhausting shift, (Y/N) was walking home. The streets were mostly empty, the town wrapped in a quiet that was both comforting and distressing. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, the cool night air biting her skin.

As she passed by a creepy, dark alley, she heard a noise that made her stop. It was the unmistakable sound of stumbling footsteps and slurred speech. She quickened her pace, hoping to avoid any trouble, but her hopes were gone when a man stepped out from the shadows, his movements unsteady and his breath smelled of alcohol.

"Hey there, pretty lady," he slurred, a smirk spreading across his face. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

(Y/N) tried to sidestep him, keeping her head down. "Just going home," she said quietly, hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone.

But the man reached out, grabbing her arm. "No need to rush. Why don’t you keep me company for a while?"

Fear spiked through her, and she tried to pull away. "Let go of me!"

Before the situation could escalate further, a new voice cut through the night. "Let her go."

(Y/N) and the drunk man both turned to see Lucas Hood standing a few feet away, his stance relaxed but his eyes hard as steel. The sheriff’s badge gleamed on his chest, and his hand rested on the edge of his gun, a silent warning.

"Mind your own business," the drunk man snarled, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"It becomes my business when someone in my town is in trouble," Lucas replied, his voice calm but authoritative. "Let her go, now."

The drunk man hesitated, then shoved (Y/N) away with a muttered curse. She stumbled but quickly regained her balance, backing away towards Lucas. He stepped forward, placing himself between her and the creep.

"You go home and sleep it off," Lucas said, his tone tolerating no argument.

The man glared but seemed to realize he was outmatched. He stumbled away, cursing under his breath. Lucas watched until he was out of sight, then turned to (Y/N).

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening with concern.

She nodded, still shaken but grateful. "Yes, thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up."

Lucas gave her a reassuring smile. "Just doing my job. Do you need a ride home?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "If you don’t mind."

"Not at all," Lucas said, leading her to his patrol car. He opened the passenger door for her, then got in the driver’s seat and started the engine.

As they drove through the quiet streets, (Y/N) took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, then glanced at him, her curiosity piqued. "I’ve heard a lot about you, Sheriff Hood. People say you’re not like other sheriffs."

Lucas chuckled softly, his eyes fixed on the road. "People say a lot of things. I just try to keep the peace."

She sensed there was more to him than he was letting on, but she didn’t press. Instead, she found herself feeling a strange sense of safety with him, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since moving to Banshee.

"I haven’t seen you in the town before," he said glancing at her.

"I’m (Y/N), new in the town." her eyes met his.

Lucas offered her a brief but genuine smile. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). And just call me Lucas. ‘Sheriff’ makes me sound more official than I feel sometimes."

(Y/N) chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease from her shoulders. "Alright, Lucas. I’ve only been in Banshee a few weeks, so I’m still getting used to everything."

"Where did you move from?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"A big city," she replied. "I wanted a change of pace, something new. I’m a nurse at the hospital here."

Lucas nodded. "Banshee is definitely quieter than a big city, but it has its own... unique challenges."

(Y/N) smiled wryly. "I’m starting to see that."

They drove in pleasant silence for a few moments before Lucas spoke again. "It’s a good town, though. The people here can surprise you. In good ways, mostly."

"I hope so," (Y/N) said, glancing at him. "What about you, Lucas? How long have you been in Banshee?"

Lucas’s eyes flickered with a hint of something she couldn’t quite place – perhaps, pain or a memory best left undisturbed. "Not too long," he said finally. "But long enough to know it can be a rough place. Just keep your wits about you, and you’ll be fine."

She nodded, appreciating his advice. "I’ll do my best. And it’s good to know there’s someone like you looking out for the town."

Lucas shrugged modestly. "Just doing my job."

As they pulled up to her apartment building, Lucas parked the car and turned to her. "Here we are. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call."

(Y/N) took the card he offered, their fingers brushing slightly. "Thank you, Lucas. I really appreciate it."

He nodded, his eyes holding hers for a moment longer than necessary. "Take care, (Y/N)."

As she got out of the car and watched him drive away, (Y/N) felt a sense of connection to this mysterious man who had come to her rescue.

Lucas sighed, pulling his patrol car into the station’s parking lot. He couldn’t afford distractions, and it wasn’t often that someone new to Banshee caught his attention that quickly, but there was something about (Y/N) that he couldn’t quite let go and he knew one thing for certain: (Y/N) had made an impression on him.

[rabiosantologia]

Antony Starr

♎︎ Swati Sun in the 3H

♉︎ Mrigashira Moon in the 10H (atmakaraka)

♌︎ Magha ASC and Purva Phalguni Venus in the 1H

♊︎ Ardra Mars in the 11H

♋︎ Pushya Saturn in the 12H

♍︎ Hasta Mercury in the 2H opposite ♓︎ Revati Jupiter in the 8H

♎︎ Vishakha Rahu in the 3H

♈︎ Krittika Ketu in the 9H

This video below addresses a topic of Mrigashira natives being targeted by psychological manipulation and lies from others and making them believe who are going crazy — the character Homelander in The Boys being a puppet of the others' lies

Swati talks a lot about air - him playing a villain who FLIES and having TWO PLANES crash because of him and this being a fact referenced within the series is absolutely surgical.

On Twitter someone mentioned about Mrigashira transforming into something else in order to escape - due to the mythology of Rohini who, when having to escape Brahma's sexual advances, becomes a deer - and thus Mrigashira being the next nakshatra

In Banshee, He assumes the identity of Lucas Hood after being released from prison to HIDE (😂) from a powerful crime boss — You can read a quick synopsis of the series' plot below

Getting the diamonds share is very Ardra on Antony's part who has this placement as his Mars. 😅

→ Go back to the vedic masterlist

[redchikittymeow]

some random Lucas Hood photos for your Friday

I wish I could go back and restart this show as if I had never watched it because I miss that first-time feeling.

also Lucas Hood is my fav Antony Starr charater other than Jethro and Homelander

[bodybebangin]

[sehtoast]

All Smiles (Lucas Hood x Reader)

430 words | domestic fluff, ngl i've never watched banshee but i have a mild grasp on the character and i wanted to write something cute about him | Fic Directory

for @jethrowest and @homeb0ys who make sure i will never know peace by sending the thirstiest of antony starr content in the group chat <3 i love you both

He’s obsessed with you.  If you only knew…

If you only knew what it did to him to simply see you.  To have you there, bright like sunshine, illuminating his life.  The warmth of your light makes him forget.  The pain falls away, the guilt, the sorrow, the regret– everything that ever hurt.

He wonders if you even mean to be like that.  With every smile, every hug, every glint in your eye that tells him how the whole of your heart belongs to him.

Wasn’t something he ever thought he’d have.  Not from anyone, really.  Too many… bad experiences.  Too many losses.  Heartbreaks and aches.

He’s sworn on everything he’ll keep you safe.  Even from himself.

He catches you doing something so… simple.  He wasn’t supposed to be home, and you?  You thought you were being sneaky.

“Lucas!”  You squeal as he sweeps you off your feet. You've given that stolen name more meaning than it ever should've had.

You’ve always complained that he doesn’t take care of himself.  Not only that, but it’s hard for him to let you take care of him.  He doesn’t know how to accept it.  He’s had to be strong for his entire life and now? He doesn’t know how to let someone else shoulder his burdens.  Not even the stupid, silly things.

And here you were, caught red handed, replacing his old threadbare underwear with new ones.  He kicks through the torn up packaging as he spins you around, arms wrapped tight around your waist as he playfully hauls you away from your sneaky good deed.  

He’s not mad– of course not.  Why would he ever be upset about you taking care of him?

But he does toss you onto the bed and kisses you senseless.

And there it is again.  That urge to all but crawl into your skin and hide away in his home– in you.  The littlest things make him feel this way.  A cooked meal.  The sight of you coming in through the front door.  Waking up beside you.  Hell, even grocery shopping with you…

Every reminder of the life you’ve built, of the world that you two have made not just with each other, but for each other as well.  The peace, the quiet, the love.

All of the little things…

He settles on top of you and gazes down with such warmth in his heart that it feels fit to burst.  He doesn’t even realize that he’s being a little odd, staring without saying a word, until you huff a laugh and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

He’s all smiles.

He always will be with you.

[homeb0ys]

Here, have this lil Lucas Hood poster. So glad more and more folks are discovering Banshee. It’s an awesome show with a lot of heart, blood and violence. Y’know, the good stuff! It’s perfect for a binge watch too. If you want to see more of Starr Man in action, definitely check it out. 🤘💙

[parasocial-suicide]

banshee screencaps (4/?)

[jethrowest]

i’ve been dead and i wanna come out…

- afraid by sarah fimm

Hood, with you, trying to live a slower-paced, easier life. How he deals with it. How you both do. How you love each other and express it.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: mental struggle/anguish, mentions of trauma, hurt/comfort, angsty sex. 18+

—

He hides among the hollow of your breast, whimpering into it like a wounded dog. You smooth your hands down the muscles lining his spine, soothing him with repetitive motion. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. Fall into me. I’ve already caught you. There you go…”

He nuzzles against you, tears seeping into the burn of his cheeks. He draws you so close to him, squeezing your back like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his yearning for a simpler life, like you’ll stay behind and be consumed by the flames of his past.

“I’m so proud of you,” you continue, kissing the top of his head, your lips brushed by the concentrated points of his buzz cut. “You’re a good man. A good man. And I love you more than I’ve loved anyone or anything.” You grip his face and lift him up. Knotted brow, dried tears, wet lashes. A fresh one rolls into the angle of your thumb, stroking along his ignited skin.

He slackens his jaw and stares deeply into your eyes. He hates coming undone like this. His heart beats rapidly in his ears.

Releasing you, he gathers the shirt you’re wearing- his shirt- and hastily removes it. You sit naked upon the counter, your hair messy from the fabric pulling it upward. His mouth opens briefly, taking you all in before drawing you into a desperate kiss. He moves harshly against you, squeezing his eyes shut and scooting you toward the edge.

You taste his salt on your tongue. Experiencing it fully, his hands on your aching hips- aching from his intense emotions forging a home within you, becoming yours as well- makes you cry with him. Quietly, softly.

This is what he does. Breaks others down. Destroys. Why should you be any different?

He decides, suddenly, that he needs to be inside you. His thumb strokes your clit and you moan into his mouth. He twitches in his sweat pants, his need for a distraction, to pour all that he has somewhere else, making him throb uncomfortably.

When he’s sure you’re aroused enough, he hooks his fingers beneath you and you simultaneously wrap your limbs around him as he carries you to the bedroom.

He’s so warm, a sharp transition from the constant chill of the kitchen’s countertop. You wonder what’s brought this on, but you don’t question him. You’re both in survival mode, even when it comes to what others might deem simple. As commonplace.

When things settle and relax, neither of you are able to follow that pace. You’re never fully at ease.

But it’s all you want. It’s all you can think about. It makes you tense further. You should be able to move like everyone else. You shouldn’t be stuck. But you are.

You unravel together. Somehow, somehow. Two irreparably damaged people discover ways to fit their broken pieces together. Find solace among your individual suffering.

Despite his evident impatience, you are placed upon the tangled sheets with care and consideration. You can’t help but search his tender yet violence-ridden expression, caress his hard cheekbones, taut jawline. He slides out of his loungewear and positions himself in front of your parted center. You’re open to him. More than you’ve ever been with anyone, including yourself.

You both gasp when he enters you, your lower half pulling him as close to you as possible. His hands are on either side of your head, and for what feels like an eternity, he can’t look at or touch you. He simply loses himself inside your heat; your inviting, comforting body, swallowing thickly as he increases his rhythm.

He loves you so much. Why does that lead him to dragging you into his impossible, opaque depths? Why won’t he release you to the light? Why does he keep you here, trapped within his pain? Surrounded by yours as well?

Why won’t he release you?

With a strangled groan, a sound that causes your concern for him to rise along with the stimulating sensations he provides- a sound that twists and wrings your insides out like a wet rag- he holds your hips down, thumbs digging into your vulnerable flesh. He’s too fast now, all-at-once. Skin slapping skin, raw, unyielding

You should be free. He should set you free. But he forces you deeper into his chaos, into him. He forces you to believe you’ll be in a better place some day. You’ll be happy.

You’re starting to hurt. It’s not what it might have began as.

Again, you take his face in your hands, trying to get him to look at you, to focus, and you squeeze. “Slow… slow down, honey, please, I’m not… going anywhere…”

Hot tears collect in the corners of your eyes. But he slows. For a few seconds, it doesn’t seem like he will. Like he’s too far gone.

You wish you could read his thoughts. What he’s truly reacting to, reaching for. Is being here enough?

Past the blood roaring in his ears, he is able to hear you. Attuned to the slightest of your shifts. He falls into you like you told him he could. He shudders from the sobs that suddenly overtake him. And he affixes himself to you, still inside. You keep him there. You don’t move away from his firm, distraught embrace.

You tip your head back as far as it will go. You pulsate, unsure of what will happen next. You know he doesn’t want to hurt you. You know he endures enough as it is. You know this is a break, a flood; that this is something you can mend and love as if it’s yours.

He’s held your burdens just as close to his own chest.

Your fingers flow across his back, like before. You pause when you return to the tops of his shoulders. You soak him up, gather him to you. Let him do what he needs to.

Finally, he lifts himself. His movements are uncertain, but they encompass a specific kind of strength. His breaths are hot, panting against your neck. You feel his tears seep into your skin. What previously formed in your eyes also escapes, moisture eventually disappearing back inside you.

His gaze is heavy when it meets yours.

He wants to speak, you can tell. You’re in no hurry, no rush. So you stare at each other, feeling him gradually calm, his heart beat a steadier rhythm.

Your throat is dry, nearly closing. He kisses your nose, your cheeks, your jaw; your lips. His tears stick to you.

“You,” his voice wavers. “You looked so peaceful.” A small, watery smile flickers over his mouth. “You made me breakfast.”

You laugh gently, a little strained from the amount of emotions that tore through you these last few minutes.

“I promise I didn’t burn it.”

He laughs now, tickling the tepid tips of your features.

“I didn’t mean��� I-” You press your index to his lips, tilting your head. He exhales, smile fading into a sincerity you’re not sure you’ve seen before. He grasps your wrist and rests your open palm to the curve of his cheek.

“No apologies. Just… show me how grateful you are. Who knows. Might earn you a lifetime supply of breakfasts.”

His mouth twinges, floating between a perplexed and hopeful grin.

Hopeful, he realizes.

“We’ll, uhhh…” he rasps, clearing his throat, “-be here all day if I show you how grateful I am. Won’t even get to enjoy the meal you cooked.”

You smile, the mood change a slow burn as opposed to a devastating burst of flames. Your fingertips are gentle but firm at the nape of his neck. You pull him in for a sweet, lingering kiss. He still tastes like salt.

The hands that hold you no longer dismantle. They might tear and rip at the smallest sign of normalcy. But they won’t bleed you out in the process.

You can bleed together. It won’t kill you anymore.

You choose to live.

Starting with breakfast.

[nocontextdilfs]

Antony Starr