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blindmagdalena · 4 months

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I had a really fluffy homie thought; basically cuddling on the couch under a fluffy throw blanket and watching cartoons like Rick and Morty or Bob’s Burgers. It’s probably totally ooc for HL but the holidays are always a little rough for me and this made me feel all fluffy and warm 😂

Homelander really doesn't care what goes on the TV. That's not why he pushes you down onto the couch or why he's nuzzling into the crook of your neck, snaking his arms around your waist.

The TV being on is more incidental than anything else; maybe it's for you, something to keep you distracted and still while he indulges in being more vulnerable than he usually cares to show.

Either way, he never pays much attention to it.

He's far more focused on the slightly alien feel of his bare fingers brushing the nape of your neck. He normally keeps himself so removed from the world, sensation muffled by the soft leather of his gloves.

He doesn't need the suit here. He doesn't need the world to be deafened or muted. With you, he can be raw. Exposed. Content.

This way, he can clearly feel the beat of your heart against his chest without thick padding dampening it. He wonders if you can feel the steady, strong thump of his. He listens to your lungs fill and empty, the breath from your lips ghosting over his temple and rolling goosebumps down his spine.

He can feel your mortality in every bit of you. Your whole existence can be broken down into such simple, primitive mechanisms, and yet the sum of you is something magic.

There is no frailty in the way you hold him, no uncertainty. You don't hesitate. You love him. More than that, you make it seem so easy. He can't understand why so many have failed to give what you have in spades.

He's not cold, but it's sweet that you pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over your entangled bodies. Your fingertips brush his jaw as you tuck it in around his neck. He smiles against the skin just below your ear and kisses it appreciatively.

You card your fingers through his hair, gently separating any gelled pieces that might tug. You don't have to, but it's sweet that you do.

It's sweet that you touch him like you could break him.

It's a difficult pill to swallow that in reality, you could. You could break him apart with the wrong words, the wrong look, the wrong rush of adrenaline. He would fall apart and tear the world down with him if you ever turned on him.

His grip tightens just enough to hitch the flow of your breaths.

"You okay?" You ask, hand pausing to cup the back of his head.

There it is. Your frailty. It would take so little to break your spine, and yet the echoes of that crack would haunt him for the rest of his life. The circle of your arms is a glass house, a precarious invitation for tragedy.

Sickening that the thought of tragedy still frightens him when it's all he's ever known. That fear sits inside him like an ugly, festering wound. The rot of it spills into all aspects of him—paranoia, anger, possessiveness, he feels it all with such burning fervor.

It's easier to simply call it love.

"Yeah," he says eventually, lifting his head to meet your gaze. You look concerned, so he kisses you. "M'great," he insists, shaping the words against your lips. "You make everything... great." He feels you smile at that.

"If you're sure," you say, pushing both hands through his hair. He can only imagine the shape of it after all the toying you've done with it. "You're squeezing awfully tight."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry. He won't tell you that he was testing the give of your body, sensing with his arms exactly what it would take for you to break apart within them. Not when he's so devastatingly content.

You brush his cheek with your knuckles. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"I might squeeze too tight," he says, leaning into your touch.

"You won't," you assure him.

"I have before," he counters.

You pause a moment. "You know better now."

"Sometimes." He says it like a confession. A dirty little secret for your ears alone that sometimes—only sometimes—he's not entirely sure he's doing the right thing.

The two of you sit in a poignant silence, the television paused on one of those Are you still watching? prompts.

"I'll tell you when it's too tight," you say, tipping his head back to meet your gaze. "And you'll listen to me."

He stares at you for awhile, gaze flitting slightly as he takes in the somber look of you. You've never been afraid of speaking up. Not even against him. He believes you.

And you'll listen to me.

An assertion he would balk at from anyone else. Instead, in your voice, from your soft lips, the thought soothes him.

"Yeah," he says, flexing his grip slightly. "Okay."

"Good. You can squeeze a little tighter," you say, settling your head back down against the couch.

He does. He closes his grip ever so slightly and buries his face into the crook of your neck, taking in a deep breath. A little tighter, and you squeeze his shoulder in warning. He lets out a breath and relaxes his hold on you with it, practically melting against you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, each of you testing the feel of the other. The slow tap of warm fingertips and freely exploring hands mapping out a lifetime of potential in the others body. He's gentle out of necessity, and you're gentle out of understanding.

Homelander hits play on the remote before he settles back down. He still doesn't care for watching, but it's a means of telling you without telling you that he's not ready for this moment to end.

Blessedly, you slip your fingers back into his hair, accepting the gesture for what it is.

#just a little fluff post that went in a direction i didn't expect #thank u anon i loved this ask <3 #i'm sorry the holidays aren't an easy time for you #i hope this maybe gives some nice warm fuzzies #it got a little more existential than i meant it to lol #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #my writing

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snowberai · 1 year

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Hi hi hi just saw your Minecraft boys and my first thought was... Do they have beans? Can we... Touch the beans? Squeeze their paws? They're so cute i love the designs so much! <3

Bonus under link

Sorry it took me so long to answer! ive been real busy with stuff and I've never really had a ask like this before so uh- i might've overthinked a lot throughout this.

I would've also drawn Sun but i dont really want to draw that- djsgsghd.

Thanks for askin'!

#ask and you shall receive #minecraft au #Endermoon #enderman!moon #axolotl!sun #Wither!Eclipse #idfk #i havent made eclipse a ref yet so i just gave him raptor claws #i know what im doing shut up #you cant tell me otherwise #/j #also thank you for the nice words #i try!#<3

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primal-con · 3 months

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I’m blaming you for my inevitable Jazzwave brainrot just fyi

Yes!!! My evil plan is working >:DDD

Jazzwave be upon ye!

#ask and ye shall receive #transformers #maccadam #tf jazz #tf soundwave #jazzwave #I’m very very normal about them <3 #and I intend to drag everybody who crosses my blog down with me!#they are sooo I trust you with my life but not my heart #I love you more than death but not more than my purpose #you’ll never kill me and I’ll never kill you #but we will continue to choose our loyalties over our love #which is murder enough #:3 💕

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angeart · 9 months

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ahhhhhhhh

scarian cuddles plsssssss

scarian cuddles!!!

#i absolutely agree #scarian cuddles #always scarian cuddles #ange answers #ange draws #scarian #soft cuddles #ask and ye shall receive #i hope this is what you wanted!! <3

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jtl-fics · 2 months

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Can we have Pretty Boy for WIP Wednesday, please?

WIP Wednesday 2/28/24 (CLOSED) | Pretty Boy

Andrew thinks about his own relationship with being desirable and how it's only with Neil that he feels like it's a good thing. Being desirable was dangerous for so long that even now with Neil there are days where it's hard to feel people's eyes on him.

Andrew does not want Neil to have his relationship with being desirable.

He tightens his hand around Neil's and feels Neil's tighten around him as well.

He wants it to be a good thing for Neil, something that gives him confidence. If Andrew has to be a bit more blunt in his feelings on Neil's attractiveness? That is a sacrifice that he is more than willing to make.

#Ask and you shall receive #FIC: Pretty Boy #AFTG #AFTG Fic #Andrew Minyard #Neil Josten #Andreil #Pretty Boy - Chapter 3- 34 #2-28-24 WIP Wednesday #WIP Wednesday Ask Game #01

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daily-dragon-drawing · 3 months

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palestine flag themed dragon!!! from the river to the sea!!!!!!!

#24 - 自由和平巴勒斯坦 (freedom, peace, Palestine) - Within our lifetime, Palestine will be free. 🇵🇸

If you see this post, please take one or more of these actions right now:

DONATE-

eSims for Gaza

Palestine Action

Palestine Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Legal

Medical Aid for Palestinians

United Nations Relief and Works Agency

Operation Olive Branch

Contact your reps for an immediate ceasefire (USA, UK, Canada, Australia)

Educate yourself and follow contemporary Palestinian voices

Follow BDS's list of companies to boycott and tell your friends and family why you are boycotting.

Plan to join a protest in your area (worldwide)

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griseldabanks · 1 day

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34 for Al and Hawkeye, please?

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Prompt: "I'll keep you safe."

Maybe they shouldn't have stopped for burgers and shakes. It was pouring rain out there, and the temperature was dropping fast. Might turn into freezing rain before too long.

But Five Guys was their tradition. Riza drove Al to speech therapy, and as long as he didn't drag his feet or have a bad attitude about it, they would stop for a late lunch on their way home. They even had a little ritual they ran through each time, just for fun. “Hmm, where should we go for lunch?” Riza would ask, pretending to think. Then Al would hold up one hand, grinning along with the joke, and Riza would say, “Five Guys?” as if she never would have thought of it on her own. Then they would both laugh like it was the best joke they'd ever heard.

The only time Riza got to hear her foster son's voice was when he laughed. It was worth it.

“Got your scarf and gloves?” Riza asked, opening her umbrella before putting one hand on the door.

Woolen blue fingers wrapped around her arm. She glanced down and saw Al huddling close to her as if for warmth, eyeing the door with trepidation. Riza tugged the hood of his blue coat over his head, then wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Don't worry, Al,” she murmured. “I'll keep you safe. Let's just run, and it'll be over in five seconds, okay?”

Slowly, Al nodded.

It was more of a huddling jog than a run, and it took more than five seconds because Riza had to juggle both the umbrella and the key fob, but they both made it into the car relatively dry. With a relieved sigh, Riza tossed the sopping umbrella to the floor on the passenger side and turned on the car, cranking up the heat all the way. She swiped her damp bangs out of her face and checked on Al in the rearview mirror. He was buckled in and shivering hard, hugging himself and rocking slightly. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to be instantly transported home. How she wished she could spare him the drive.

Riza decided the best thing would be to get home as fast as possible, so she didn't say anything more to him, just started the windshield wipers and eased back out of their parking space. “These wipers are useless in the rain,” she muttered, squinting through the smeared windshield and turning on the defroster. She needed to text Roy and see if he could pick up some replacements on the way home.

As she headed for the highway, Riza mentally ran through her to-do list. Once they got home, she needed to call the phone company to see if the issue with the bills had gotten sorted out. She should peek into the boys' bathroom and make sure they'd cleaned it like they were supposed to, and then she needed to clean her and Roy's bathroom. By then it would probably be time to start on supper, and oh, was today a karate day and had Roy said he could drive the boys or—

The loud blare of a horn startled Riza out of her thoughts. A semi, slipping out of control from the left. Moving on pure instinct, Riza slammed her foot on the gas and aimed for the shoulder. The semi slipped and slid on its way, and they jostled and bumped over the muddy grass. Riza managed to stop before the ground fell away into the ditch. Hands shaking, she pulled the parking brake and turned on the hazard lights before letting out a long, slow breath of relief.

She looked over her shoulder to find Al hunched over in his seat, his gloved hands clawing at his face as he drew in shaky, shuddering breaths. “Al? Are you okay?” No, that was a stupid question. “Are you hurt?” she amended. “Alphonse!”

The twelve-year-old boy peeked over his hands at her, but she could tell that he didn't see her. It was like he was looking through her, to another rainy day in another car with another woman sitting behind the wheel as a truck came out of nowhere....

“Al....” Riza unfastened her seatbelt and clambered over the center console, squeezing between the front seats to get to the back. It was difficult and inelegant, but she managed. Better than opening the door and letting in all that cold wind and rain.

As she settled into the seat next to Al, she listened to his frantic, choked breaths that came faster and faster with every passing minute. He wasn't looking at her, just staring fixedly at the driver's seat. Occasionally, his eyes slid over to the front passenger seat as well.

Riza's heart clenched tightly as she imagined what he must be seeing. Trisha Elric, forehead resting on the steering wheel, blood trickling down the side of her face, her vacant eyes staring into nothing. Ed, trapped under the twisted metal, blood spreading up his left leg. Still breathing, but so shallow, so erratic, eyes closed. No response to Al's screams. The last words Al had ever spoken, a desperate plea for his family to not leave him alone.

She hadn't been there. She'd only read reports from after the fact, and talked to Mrs. Rockbell and the boys' therapists. And yet, she could see it all as clearly as if she'd lived it herself. She could almost hear those screams.

“Mom...Mom...Mom....”

Wait. That voice, ragged and faint, wasn't just in her imagination. Tears sprang to her eyes as she heard that one word whispered in wheezing gasps muffled behind blue gloves.

She could have listened to that voice for hours, but Al was shaking so hard she actually thought she could feel the car rocking slightly. So Riza scooted a little closer, saying as gently as she could, “Al? Can you listen to me, sweetie? I need you to breathe with me.”

His eyes latched onto hers, and for the first time since they'd swerved off the road, he actually seemed to see her.

“That's right,” Riza said, reaching for his hands. “Just like we always do, okay?”

He let her take his hands in hers and pull them away from his face. Riza led him in a deep breathing exercise, and found that her own heart rate eased as well. The adrenaline from their near miss was beginning to wear off, leaving her feeling exhausted and limp. She almost wished she'd brought Hayate with them after all. They both could have used the soothing comfort of his soft fur and warm, wet tongue.

“We're okay,” she whispered, reassuring herself as much as Al. “You're safe now. We're both safe.”

Just like every time thunder and lightning put Ed on edge and sent Al skittering into their bedroom to crawl under the covers. Roy would get up to make everyone hot chocolate, Ed would crank up his music so they could hear it faintly through his headphones, and Al would curl up like one of his cats against her side, and they would all cram into the king-sized bed to wait out the storm.

“Mom,” Al croaked again, his voice rough from disuse. “Mom....”

Tears spilled over his cheeks, and Riza reached over to gently brush them away. “I know, honey, I know.” Hot tears stung her own eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

“Mom....” Al raised one gloved hand and placed it on her cheek. He was looking at her so intently, so earnestly, like there was so much he wanted to say, but he was stuck on that one word, choking on the sobs that shook him head to foot. He put his other hand on her other cheek, as if to hold her in place. “Mom....”

A thought occurred to her, as sudden and shocking as the semi that had nearly hit them: He's calling me Mom.

Tears blurred her eyes till she couldn't even see him. “I'm here,” she whispered.

He flung his arms around her, squeezing so hard it took her breath away. She hugged him back, held him tight, squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. She rocked them back and forth, patting him on the back.

Riza had always known motherhood would be strange for her, who had never known the gentle touch of a mother. When she and Roy had first talked about starting a family, she had been plagued with doubts about whether she would be able to manage it. A thousand times, she'd tried to imagine herself rocking a baby to sleep, kissing the skinned knees and bumped foreheads of a toddler or two...and she'd always drawn a blank, since she'd never had that herself. What if she could never get the hang of it? She was a soldier, not a mother.

And yet, sitting in this car on the side of the road, holding a twelve-year-old boy sobbing his heart out...it didn't matter that she hadn't given birth to him. It didn't matter that they'd only known each other for a little over a year. It didn't matter that they'd never once had a normal conversation.

This was her son. She loved him so much she thought her chest might split open with the force of it. And judging from the way Al kept sobbing that name over and over again, clutching at her like his life depended on it...he felt the same.

#ask and you shall receive #valiantarcher #ask games #let me count the ways #full metal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist #fma #riza hawkeye #alphonse elric #modern day real world au #i've fallen in love with this au and am dying to write more in it <3

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sassydefendorflower · 3 months

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Please tell us about Wasabi (the critter not the condiment)

You want me to talk about Wasabi?

Well, he's beauty

He's grace

He'll... climb inside your fridge? (maybe looking for his namesake)

And sleep in front of the toilet?

But at least he's always ready to go on travels with you!

And to snuggle up when his tiny paws are cold!

#cats #cat #long post #cute #wasabi <3 #the cat #my cat (and my roommate's)#anon #asks and answers #ask and you shall receive more like #:D

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floating-far-from-earth · 11 months

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4A Claire?

Sparkles!!! Happiness for the best girl!!!! yippee!!!!

(ask game)

#my art #ask and you shall receive #ask game #Claire Elford #witch's heart #whnoc #what more is there to tag tbh ?#it's her what more do you want #she <3

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noxexistant · 10 months

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ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

sometimes, hotshot feels like he’s playing second fiddle in ike’s world. which, well, he is. and hotshot should be used to being second, just the same as he is in brooklyn’s hierarchy, in his whole life, and really it usually doesn’t bother him. but sometimes it wears him down. between everyone in brooklyn only listening to spot and ike’s world revolving around his brother, hotshot gets it in his head sometimes that he doesn’t matter at all. he doesn’t do anything for brooklyn aside from repeat spot’s orders and try and go by their word for his own, ike’ll blow him off without a word if mike needs him more - he just gets distracted, hotshot knows, he doesn’t mean it, he’s just so used to dropping everything for his brother - and hotshot’s nothing. a placeholder, the sort of thing that could be taken away without really affecting anything else.

so. hotshot goes a few days without being able to get ahold of ike at all. he passes message after message to manhattan that he wants to meet ike on the bridge like they usually do, wants to know if he’s free that night, wants to know if he can just come see ike, but only ever gets passed messages back that ike can’t make it then for some reason or another. he’s busy, he’s tired, he’s told everyone that he’s not seeing anyone tonight, told everyone to tell hotshot that he’s sorry but he can’t meet for a while. like he expects hotshot to just wait.

ike is wildly relieved when things finally blow over for him - maybe mike was sick or something, maybe it was a whole bunch of things that kept him busy and stressed beyond belief - and how much he missed hotshot crashes over him like a wave. he immediately tries to return any of those messages he’s been blowing off, tries to get message to hotshot that he wants to meet again - wants to make it up to his boyfriend, kiss him until he can’t breathe, hold him for hours to make up for the time they’ve been apart and apologise until his tongue goes numb. he wants to explain himself finally, rather than the silence he’s been unintentionally providing. but now it’s his messages that aren’t going through - everyone brooklynside is only offering shrugs, saying they don’t know where hotshot’s at, blindly guessing that maybe he’s busy or something. nobody’s seen hotshot - but nobody seems to care.

and maybe hotshot can handle silence like this, can sit and wait like a second-in-command does, when ike goes missing. but ike can’t. he heads straight to brooklyn to find his boyfriend, who wholeheartedly believes nobody is looking.

#you asked for this <3 #i’m actually thinking about angsty delancey stuff but you asked for ikeshot so you shall receive #answered #sparkedblaze #ikeshot #ike newsies #hotshot newsies

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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Can I request a drabble? The length is up to you, where the homelander meets the reader for the first time, and they have a massive crush on him, and he can hear their heart going so fast and finds it so flattering and makes his ego much bigger than it needs to be. Thank you!!

ohhhhh this didn't entirely turn out the way i expected, but i hope you like it anyways! thanks so much for the request!

2.6k homelander x gn reader, sfw except for homelander's internal dialogue and a wee bit at the end. timeline is either early or pre s1. i know i usually skew towards female readers, but i tried to keep this one entirely gender neutral. let me know how i did, and enjoy! 🖤

Meeting fans is an everyday recurrence for Homelander. It's expected from a man of his station and notoriety. Aside from happenstance encounters during his daily duties, there’s also conventions and meet-and-greets. In addition, every once in a while, Vought employees are given the opportunity to invite friends and family for a tour of the tower. Rarer yet, for the chance to meet members of The Seven. Of them all, Homelander is without a doubt, in his humble opinion, the most enduring among them. Most often it’s children and spouses. For them, it’s the best day of their lives. For Homelander, it’s just another Wednesday.

Nonetheless, he tirelessly grins bright for every sticky-faced child and overgrown fanboy. He salutes diligently for selfies, and signs enough autographs to dry out his sharpie. The movements are automatic by now. Object comes in, object is signed, object is returned. Smile. Salute. You’re the real heroes!

Every single second of it is like the monotonous tick of a clock. Greasy fingers loudly slapping against touch screens, the occasional flash that he pretends doesn’t set his teeth on edge.

He’s handed another piece of paper, he signs it, he offers it back out.

Except you don’t take it. Instead, you’re just staring at him.

Suddenly, Homelander is zapped back to reality, the dissociative clockwork grind coming to a halt. He blinks, looking down, and realizes the paper he’s just signed is an envelope. Beneath his scrawling signature, a previous note is visible: To Homelander. He assumes that’s your name written just below it. It’s a letter for him.

“Oh, haha. Wow. Talk about your bonehead moves,” he says, lifting a gloved hand to playfully knock on his own skull. “Hello, is anyone home?”

You laugh, and he takes the opportunity to actually look at you. You’re bright eyed and as starstruck as any fan, but there’s a sincerity to your smile that’s more noteworthy than most. Your gaze has clarity to it that tells him you’re not just looking at a famous person, you’re looking at him. He likes that.

Now that he’s actually paying attention, he’s surprised the beat of your heart didn’t hook him first. It’s pounding in your chest, the heat of it giving you a healthy flush all over. He’s willing to bet he could feel the heat of your skin clear through his gloves. Look at you, he thinks, biting back a wolfish smile. He knows already that you’d melt sweeter than ice cream in his hands. He licks his lips, giving you a once over. His eyes move quickly enough that you couldn’t possibly have seen it.

You prove distracting enough that he doesn’t even notice the man at your side until he speaks.

“There, happy? Been begging me for this for weeks,” the man says, giving you a nudge. He grins when he says, “Now you owe me one.” Homelander cocks his head sharply, like a bird of prey catching sight of a rat. “I was not begging,” you say under your breath, visibly flustered. You pull away from his second attempt to nudge you. “Dan, please,” you say, the word stressed in a way that seems to hold meaning between the two of you.

Please what, Dan? How about ‘Please don’t fucking embarrass me in front of the goddamn Homelander’?

Homelander sizes the guy up, subtly quirking a brow. He looks like someone’s intern, or maybe a tech grunt. Flimsy, without an ounce of charisma or presence. He probably would have mistaken the guy for a tall house plant if he hadn’t said anything.

“This your boyfriend?” He asks, maintaining that friendly tone of his. Neither of you seem to notice the edge creeping into it. He taps the envelope absently against his palm. “No! No, no,” You’re quick to say. Homelander doesn’t miss the look Dan gives you at the sharpness of your response. “Just friends.”

He smiles. Woof, that’s gatta sting, huh, buddy? It’s hilarious to think what this guy thought bringing you to Homelander was gonna do for his obvious situation. Did he think it was gonna get him a nice thank-you blowjob, or worse, a relationship? As if you’d have any interest in Dan after meeting an honest to god superhero. Someone you’ve apparently been begging to meet, which certainly paints a pretty picture.

Homelander begins peeling open the letter, but you throw out your hand to stop him, gently touching the top of his. He was right, he really can feel the heat of you through the leather. “Wait! I’m sorry, I just want to say thank you, and tell you that I admire you so much, which is already in that letter, and I’m rambling, and I’m sorry for that too, but I would probably shrivel up and die right now if you read that letter before I’m twenty miles away,” you say, nervous laughter bubbling up towards the end. You belatedly snatch your hand away, twice as flustered as you had been a moment before. He can still feel the lingering warmth of your hand on his.

“Holy smokes, fan behavior much?” Dan laughs, wrapping his arm around you to give your shoulder a little shake. It’s pathetic how desperately he’s trying to make himself relevant right now. Worse than that is how blatantly uninterested in him you are. Homelander very nearly rolls his eyes.

Instead, he purposefully softens his expression. He tucks the letter into his belt, and puts his hands on his hips. “Say, I don’t suppose you’ve seen the courtyard yet, have you? They call it The Garden of Heroes,” he says, leaning in to whisper the last bit to you, as if it’s a secret.

Your breath catches when he leans so near to you, and you shake your head. You give such a sweet little smile, he almost kisses you right then and there. You’re so wrapped around his finger, he’s sure you’d welcome it. He’d love to rub it in the nose of this joke of a man standing next to you, a man who was idiotic enough to deliver someone he clearly wanted right into Homelander’s hands.

Instead, he simply gestures you forward. “Then allow me to finish out your tour properly.”

You look thoroughly enchanted, eyes blown wide, lips parted. “Okay, yes! Sure. I would love that,” you say, excited as can be. You take a step forward, and he maneuvers himself perfectly between you and Dan, settling a hand on the small of your back to guide you. As the three of you walk, he catches Dan’s eye, and tosses him a wink.

For the rest of the walk, he savors the sound of Dan gritting his teeth.

Outside, Homelander gestures broadly to Vought’s expansive courtyard garden. It’s decorated with statues of heroes past and present, staggering monuments kept in pristine condition. He walks the two of you down a handful of rows, but in accordance with his plan, he stops abruptly. Putting his hands on his hips, he blows a raspberry. “You know, the view’s just not the same from down here.” Next, he makes a face, as if this brilliant idea has only just occurred to him, and snaps his fingers before he points to you. “Hey, why don’t you let me show you my view?”

“Your view?” You echo, glancing at Dan, who by this point has taken the very mature approach of outright moping. “Yeah! C’mere, let me give you a real tour,” he says, holding his hand out to you.

“Uh, I don’t think that–” Dan begins, but you’re already stepping past him, taking Homelander’s outstretched hand. With a bright smile, you say, “I’d love that.”

For as eagerly as you accept, you still yelp when Homelander effortlessly hauls you up into his arms. With one arm at your back, and the other supporting your knees, he says, “Hang on tight,” and shoots into the sky so swiftly, Dan is left shielding his face from the swirling winds of debris your ascent kicks up.

At first, Homelander thinks you’re screaming. After a beat, however, he realizes you’re laughing, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck, you’d be choking out anyone else. Gradually, he slows to a stop, hovering dozens upon dozens of feet off the ground, Dan and the gardens below a distant thought. Your breaths are coming in sharp and shallow, and if he thought your heart was pounding before, it’s nothing compared to now. It might just burst right out of your chest.

You’re still working out the giggles, or maybe you’re coming down from a mild hysteria. Either way, you eventually start to breathe more evenly, though your hold around his neck doesn’t loosen whatsoever.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, peering down at the distant earth below. When you turn back to look at him, you look surprised all over to be face to face with him. Homelander, who hasn’t taken his eyes off you, flashes his best hero’s smile. He’s satisfied by the way you fluster all over again, quickly looking away, hyper aware of how close your faces are, the press of your bodies as he holds you. It all happened so fast, perhaps it hadn’t dawned on you when you accepted that you would be so wholly at his mercy, snug in his arms, fifty feet in the air.

Works every time.

Homelander absently taps his fingers where he’s holding your leg. “What’d I tell you? Nothing beats this view.”

“It’s amazing,” you say, lifting your gaze to stare out across the city scape. “I can’t believe you can just… do this. You’re amazing,” you say, and though you don’t meet his eye, the sincerity in that praise strikes right through to the core of him like a hot lance.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, musing on every one of his wonders he could show you. If you think this is amazing, wait until you see what he can do with his strength.

The wind must be loud in your ears, because you look back to him and ask, “What?”

“I said you’re too kind,” he says louder, teeth sharp and pearly white as he lies cleanly through them. You smile, none the wiser, but this time your gaze lingers on his. Your arms aren’t in quite such a chokehold around his neck anymore. You’re leaning against him more easily now, learning to trust the security of his hold.

“Do you do this for all your smitten fans?” You ask. You must think you’re being subtle with the way your fingers are toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, but he feels it viscerally. Whether you know it or not, you’re making it difficult for him to focus, to maintain the facade.

“Smitten?” He repeats, his smile turning a touch sly. “Is that what that letter is about?”

“Oh, god,” you say, lifting your hand from his neck to cover your face. He wishes you’d put it back, keep playing with his hair like that. “On second thought, maybe give me that back. Or burn it.” “No, no, it’s mine now. What’s in it? I mean, I could always just read it now,” he says, taking his arm from your back to reach threateningly for his belt. The lack of support prompts you to secure your arms back around his neck with a cute, distressed little noise.

“To be completely honest, I’d rather you dropped me,” you say, earning a bark of laughter from him. It’s the first genuine laugh he’s had all day. Maybe all week.

“Cahhh’mooooonnn,” he drawls, putting his arm back around you. “It can’t be that bad.” “It’s pretty tragic,” you lament, though your sheepish little smile suggests otherwise. He lifts both brows, stubbornly holding your gaze until you finally exhale a breath that tells him he’s won. “I… God, this is embarrassing. You, uhm… I know that I don’t know the real you, but who you are to the public, and the things you do… You mean a lot to me. You’ve brought me a lot of comfort. Helped bring me out of some pretty dark places, and I wanted to say thank you. For that. For choosing to be someone good when a lot of people weren’t.”

Homelander blinks. It shouldn’t catch him off guard. Your sincerity was what drew him in in the first place. Of course you don’t know the real him. No one does. By that same token, no one’s ever acknowledged to his face that there might be more to him than what Vought spoon feeds America’s braindead population through movies, TV specials, hokey interviews, and every other possible means of exploitation.

You don’t talk like you know him, but you sure as fuck sound as though you’d like to know him.

The silence stretches on just a hair too long, and he sees uncertainty rising in your eyes. He clears his throat, and breaks the sudden tension with a well practiced chuckle. “Well, that’s what heroes do, isn’t it? They save people.”

“Yeah,” you say, and he’s not sure how he can be expected to think when your fingers graze the back of his neck like that. “You’ve always been my hero.”

He’s close to you now, closer than ever before. He can’t smell anything aside from the crisp scent of peppermint lingering on your breath. He imagines you popping a mint between those soft lips in anticipation of this moment, as if you were the mastermind who had orchestrated all of this, and not the other way around. For the first time, he lets you see the way his gaze dips briefly to your mouth. He licks his own lips reflexively.

“Righty then, whelp… You’ve got a choice to make now,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “I can begin our descent, deliver you safely back onto solid ground, back to… Dan,” he says, unable to keep the edge of distaste off his tongue when he drops the name. “And the two of you can go about your day.”

He waits long enough that you’re the one to prompt him with, “Or…?”

“Or,” he picks up, lips curving into a pleased smile. “I can just take you straight home, and you can forget all about whatever he thinks you owe him.”

You bite your lip, stifling a smile. There it is again, the quickening of your pulse, the eager pattering of your heart. Now he can feel the heat of your body against him, seeping through the layers that separate you, teasing him.

“Sounds like I’ll just be going from owing him to owing you,” you say, playing as if you’re mentally balancing the pros and cons between the two. He doesn’t buy it for a second.

Homelander clicks his tongue. “Mmm, mhm, mm. I see. And is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

Instead of answering, you kiss him. For the first time in as long as he can remember, Homelander is genuinely shocked by it. Between the heartfelt letter, the shy smiles and the generally reserved way you’d handled yourself, he really didn’t think you had it in you. Yet here he is, melting into the press of your lips–they’re as soft as they looked–and pulling you closer, deeper.

A noise dangerously close to a whimper escapes the back of his throat when you push your fingers up into his hair. He opens easily to the first swipe of your tongue, reciprocating without hesitation. What he had previously interpreted as shyness strikes him now as finely measured control.

You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?

By the time the two of you part, you’re both breathing in shallow, warm huffs against the others lips.

“I’m good with risks,” you say, voice low. “Are you?”

Homelander, wild-eyed and hard as a rock, laughs airily. “Fuck yes I am.”

You smile, making no attempts this time to hide it, and finally, Homelander sees deviousness to the edges of it that he did not notice before. “Good. Then take me home.”

With goddamn pleasure.

#is this anything???? haha sometimes i write a fic and i'm like GOD I HOPE THIS IS SOMETHING #anyways you sent this a million years ago but i hope you like it! <3 #homelander x reader #homelander x you #my writing #ask and you shall receive #gn reader #fluff #i should NOT be posting fic this late but i'm not disciplined enough to wait and post at a reasonable hour so i'll just rb it later lolol

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