THE "BRO" FUCKING SENT ME!!!

He is so hot 💗💗🥵🙏

“The reason why he didn’t carve his name into such an incredible sword… this single character! This sword was forged with nothing but single-minded determination! This sword… was forged for this sole purpose and nothing else!”

Yes

i will NEVER stop writing for eddie munson.

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their stage names, either."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple. Something easy, yet not so simple.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

Omfg, this gotta be my favorite part 😵💓💯

Mind Games

Part 3

Series summary: Set in 1984. It’s that time of the year – the supes are having the time of their lives at the Herogasm festival. Soldier Boy seems to have taken a special interest in Y/N, a fellow superhero.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x female Reader

Category: Angst, smut, 18+

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Alcohol use, cursing, violence, explicit sexual content, Soldier Boy being abusive towards his team

A/N: This part contains smut! Do not read if you’re under the age of 18! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Soldier Boy tag list? Send me an ask!

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist | Part 4

Main Masterlist

So, yes, this is the story of how I wanted to give Soldier Boy a piece of my mind and ended up in his fucking trailer instead. To be honest, his trailer was pretty simple for Vought standards – at least for Vought standards how I imagined them. Then again, Soldier Boy did seem to be the practical type.

The two of us were sat at a table, a bottle of whiskey between us. Soldier Boy had taken off his gloves, giving me a good view of his large hands. I could see the veins on the backs, the callouses on the tips of his fingers. His fingernails were cut short, and remained clean despite doing fight scenes in the dirt all day.

“So… Did you enjoy my performance on Solid Gold?”, Soldier Boy asked cockily, lifting one of his enormous hands and snatching the bottle of whiskey from the table.

Keep reading

Anyone else see this art by @/yunonoai on twitter and tiktok

My prerogative 2

n.o.t.e.s - Yeehaw, @bunnimu

Part 2 of My Prerogative

w.a.r.n - Homelander being a warning, anger issue, gore topics, organs.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g -Homelander x Supe!Fem! reader

w.c. - 1189

4 weeks passed supposed off the accident happened. It was downtown New York, a few blocks away from your apartment. The Police and reinforcement and newscasters were there trying to find evidence of the massacre of human organs scattered in the alleyway.

'DAILY NEWS A BRUTAL MURDER HAPPENED IN DOWNTOWN NEW YORK,' the news headlines read.

It was a brutal scene; some sure came to the scene; it was something. Just to your luck, one theme was Homelander at the scene. It was interesting that a high-standing superhero was at the scene of the low massacre.

"She really gave us a show," he murmured with a little smile, his hand behind his back.

'VOUGHT' read from the building standpoint, home of the wonderous superhero as the seven. It must be pretty good working alongside superheroes; it must be a dream come true.

It really wasn't. But hey, you would do anything for the hefty paycheck that came into the mailbox, paying your bills. You scanned your id badge on your lanyard and walked into the bright building, holding your bag with you as you came to the elevator. Today was better than the week you had, especially with your crappy boss.

'DING' the elevator stops on the floor you're on as you entered in.

You felt better about today; you got a full night of rest, and you even got the time to make some coffee for yourself. Today was your day, bathing couldn't ruin it, you thought to yourself.

Pressing the floor buttons on the elevator panel onto the 68th floor, the elevator music pinning into the elevator; you stand on the side of the elevator until you hear some yelling.

"Wait! Hold the elevator!" a feminine voice ranged; you immediately press the opening elevator button, letting the women in before the elevator door was closed.

"Thank you so much!" she pants; she was holding a bunch of paperwork in her hands. "Busy schedule?" you respond, motioning to the paper she was holding.

"Uh, yes..mhm!" she responded as she look down, looking at her shoes.

"So, what department are you in" you place your hand on your hip as you stare at the shorter woman.

"Office management."

"PR"

After that, the silence was comfortable, more settling than what happened between and homelander.

"Oh, shit, could you press floor 38, please!"

"Sure thing" you pressed the floor on the elevator panel, and after that, some more silence settled in it wasn't awkward but better.

'Ding!" the elevator stopped at her station, and she stepped out, "Well, it was nice to meet you; oh wait," she stepped back before the elevator should close, "what's your name?"

"Y/N"

"Eliza, bye!" she waved as she ran to her office station; the elevator door closing as you only saw her brown hair in the wind.

It was refreshing to see a Vought employee not being a bitch to you, but I think today even improved for you, especially.

'Ding,' the elevator doors open, and you step out, walking to your office cubic with a bit of pep.

You didn't have to contact any stupid heroes, especially homelander. No whining, nothing from your boss; you opened the door to your office and sat down.

A big smile spreads across your face; nothing could go wrong or turn your body to face your computer.

Until your office door opened, the clanking of heels could be sounded in the silent office, gaining the attention of other people. It was a red-headed woman coming near you, holding a couple of folders in her hands.

You immediately turn your body away, hiding your face away from her, but it was completely useless. "Miss Y/N, isn't it right?"

You turned your body to her, "Yes, what do you need?"

"Straight to the point, I love it. My name is Ashley, and I want to give you a promotion of a lifetime! courtesy of Vought; if you can follow me to discuss further, that would be nice". She said.

"Sure.." you got up from your seat and followed her. You were an isolated space away from anyone, "Okay, so Y/N, this a wonderful opportunity for you. It's not a lie that you're a super, right?" She started, your eyebrows furrowed when she said 'supe.'

"What do you mean.." you respond to her accusation.

"Aren't you a supe, right? Well, we wanted you to tell us that you can become a professional supe, save people and be an inspiration to everyone, and also have a seat with the seven"

"What happened to transculent?

"Well, it's something I can't explain to you, especially, but..." she turned her head, "Would be a better step up than to work in a small office cubic.."

"How do you know?"

You immediately flipped her body and slammed her into the wall, grabbing her neck.

"How the fuck you know, Ashley. I'll snap your throat in half right now.."

She grasped your hand on your throat, and she slowly struggled against your strength. the clasp of boots echoed in the hallway, and a faint sight of an American flag was in your peripheral vision.

"Dammit" you took your hands off her throat. As Ashley rubbed her neck, with the faint grasp of your hand, the red mark was still on her skin.

You stepped away from her, as you stared at Homelander emerged from the shadows literally..

"You know, Y/N, that was a good stunt you pulled off earlier.." he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him. You bit your lips, "What the fuck do you want!" you barked at him.

"I guess Ashley didn't tell you yet, Join the Seven," he responded with a small smile. "Im not good at math, but isn't there supposed to be 7 people, not 8" you respond.

Ashley was still on the floor, as she looked between you and the homelander. Her face was still expressed a bit of fear as you were yelling at homelander.

"Well, transculent missing, so you would still have a chance to be in there besides your power, and the seven would be better than what that cheap semitransparent cocksucker has.."

"Well, there's no way that happening" Take a step back, in case you had to run.

"Oh, sweetie, even you know that running is useless.." he looked at you.

You back up away from him, as you took a deep breath, and broke into a sprint, even though you were warned, you didn't listen.

The last thing you heard was some murmuring from the homelander.

Running into some Vought employees as you pushed some away, damn, who knew this building was so big, it was even hard with your heel pinching your feet.

You were stumbling as you tried to push some of the employees away from you. You saw a brief look of another super, 'Wait, was that..queen Maeve" you thought,

Before you notice it is too late, the last thing you saw was black, as you feel your body thrown over something like a ragdoll.

Today wasn't a good one, especially for you.

"Christmas Magic"

n.o.t.e.s - Merry Christmas or Happy holidays!

w.a.r.n - Just fluff, and maybe a crackfic(?) and Homelander

p.a.i.r.i.n.g. - Homelander x Human!reader

w.c. - 1189

Christmas music was playing. You were cutting out a little piece of decorations cutting the pieces of white paper, and making a snowflake. You delicately handed the paper, humming to the music as it played out.

While Ryan was coloring the coloring paper with an assortment of crayons and colored pencils, as the picture of art resembled an ornament.

You took a break from cutting the triangle piece of paper in your hand as you looked at Ryan's piece of art he was working on. "That looks good!"

Ryan stopped working on his piece and looked at you, responding with a 'Thank you.' The tension between you was a bit awkward ever since what happened with his mom, Rebecca. In the end, he went with his dad. It was December 21st, and you were preparing for the holiday.

Homelander left off to do some 'superhero duties' which, to simplify, cause chaos and wreak havoc all over New York. Leaving you with Ryan. You were supposedly dating Homelander; you were trapped inside his suburban home, making you a hostage.

But you were still known to the public, interesting.

But hey, it was the holidays, and you didn't want him to know that his dad was a fucking kidnapper, you didn't want the burden to be on Ryan, so you tried to socialize with a 10-year-old boy. "So, what do you want for Christmas," you said, piquing up a conversation.

The boy was a bit awkward about responding to the question, "My mom back.." he responded to the question, his eyes watering, sniffly with his nose.

"Oh," The response made the tension between you guys awkward; "What would something you want for Christmas that you get to have with your hands" as you gently slapped the table you were on, trying to make the awkward tension into a happy moment.

"Uh, I don't know" he wiped his eyes with his sleeve as he started sniffly.

"Well, do you know what I always wanted for Christmas when I was your age?" you said, looking at him with excitement.

"What did you want?" the conversation piquing his attention.

"A 1998 holiday barbie, but my parent never got it for me," you spoke to him, smiling at him.

"Im sorry for that," Ryan said, "It's okay, but now I told you what I want. Can you tell me what you want for Christmas?" giving him a reassuring smile.

"Maybe....a lego set?" he responds

"Which kind?" you questioned, his eyes brightening up that you were invested in his wish.

"A Star Wars mega galaxy set!" he smiled after completing his response.

"That sounds Awesome!" you smile at him.

"I guess so," he smiled back, his voice becoming excited with the content. "So, have you ever gotten to experience a snow day?"

"A snow day?" he stared at you, confused and full of admiration for the idea.

"Yeah, it's when you have snowball fights, make snowmen, and have no school. It's pretty fun, too." you put your hands up, dramatizing the whole ordeal.

You continue cutting up and snowflake, "-And you get to catch a snowflake on your tongue" you open up the triangle piece of paper, showing the paper snowflake to Ryan.

"Woah, that sounds cool" Ryan had a big smile.

"It is!" placing down the paper snowflake.

You responded to him, leaving the room with quiet tension. You couldn't lie, but you are fond of this kid, even though he's the son of a narcissistic weirdo.

"So, make some Gingerbread men; they are really good, and you can decorate them!" you suggested.

"Yeah!" Ryan smiled at the idea and got up off his chair, and you both went into the kitchen.

45 MINS LATER

The smell of gingerbread men's cookies spread throughout the house as the timer rang out to mention the cookies were ready. You wore mittens, taking the hot tray out of the oven.

As you pour the colored frosting into the pipping bag, you remove the cookie's decoration from the cabinets as you let the cookie rest and become cooler to eat.

"Ryan! the cookies are ready!" You yelled out for him since the cookie was ready.

The boy came running into the kitchen, smiling with joy, as we stood next to you looking at the cookie on the tray, "Be careful. It's still hot!" you warned him.

Giving him one of the piping bags to decorate the cookies, he held the bags and started decorating the cookie, making gingerbread men scraps and clothing with the sweet frosting.

"That is some good-looking gingerbread man" you smiled at him, complementing his artistic ability.

You heard the door opening and familiar footsteps coming into the house, "-And maybe we have some hot chocolate as well," you patted Ryan's shoulders.

You walked out of the kitchen to where your kidnapper, Homelander, stood near the door; you decided to butter him up so he might be lenient with you leaving the house or giving you some time outside.

It made you feel like a prisoner, but due to the holly season, you didn't want to crush it. "Welcome home, Homelander" you gave him a small smile.

"Well, someone is excited" he respond back with a smile, his sharp canines showing giving you a bit of a fear shock.

"Yeah, well, Ryan and I are just making some gingerbread cookies for, you know, the Christmas occasion." leading him into the spacious kitchen where Ryan was decorating the tray of cookies.

As soon as Ryan saw his dad, he placed the cookies and the pipping bag on the counter, running to him to hug him as Homelander reciprocated.

You couldn't lie, but the moment was cute, even with the situation you were in.

"Woah! Ryan, those look delicious!"

"Thanks!" he broke away from the hug, coming toward the counter with the cookies.

"Let's eat these" you took the once hot tray with your hands as you walked to the table, placing them down on the round table.

As Homelander and Ryan went to the table and sat down, you went back to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate for you and Ryan, while you poured a glass of milk for Homelander.

Grabbing the beverages with your hands, and walked to the round table once again and placed them on the table, as Homelander gave you a 'Thank you' as he smiled at you, making you a little uncomfortable.

Walking to the seat next to Ryan, "So..Ryan, how was Y/N!" Homelander broke the silence.

"It was super fun" Ryan responded with a huge smile, as Ryan continued with his response, the Christmas music blared into your ears.

The only thing that you last heard was Homelander saying "-Kinda like a family" he stared at you, smiling at you with his sharp canines showing.

'-And Heaven and nature sing, and Heaven and nature sing...'

the Christmas music blaring into your ears as the voice blocked out.

'Holy Shit, he's really got you in the palm of your hands' you started to grip the table as you started hyperventilating, staring back at him.

'...and Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing......'

Reblogs, Likes, sharing, and commenting will be greatly appreciated >3

Do you ever think you'll do another one shot of Coriolanus? And mistress and government hooker one? Like when the reader is pregnant 🤰

Maybe, im not sure yet but sorry for not answering sooner!

Table Talk

If we are going to be real

Let's talk about how Charles Beckendorf, literally the only black person that was introduced, died and how his girlfriend, Silena also died and get talked trash because of that bitch ass hoe, Drew.

Wattpadd couture 💀😂😂

Can I ask for a enemies-to-lovers with the spider kids x white fem! reader?

y/n giggled as her blonde hair was flowing through the wind, tucking a piece behind her ear before pulling it up into a messy bun. "im so happy!" her blue eyes close as she laughs in a way thats not like other girls