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nevertheless-moving · 2 months ago

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Stormlight AU 17B Part Two

Continued from Here

Kaladin takes the honorblade because Syl insists it’s too dangerous to leave, collapses on the way back because holy shit exhaustion and injuries and also it's draining his stormlight a bit.

(There’s some interference between Syl Bond/ Honorblade Bond that takes time to sort out.)

When the storm starts dying, Kaladin and Szeth are found laid out like a Rosharan Renaissance painting.

Kaladin’s sprawled on the palace steps, still clutching the blade. There’s probably a single beam of light streaming down from a break in the clouds, illuminating Kaladin’s artistically devastated and storm soaked body with golden light, because of course there is.

The Assassin in White has dagger wounds in his heart and throat. Wounds from a darkeyes weapon. A LOT of witnesses to that messy aftermath because people are too freaked out to move either of them until Dalinar comes downstairs

When Kaladin wakes up he's injured. Syl isn’t answering. He’s surrounded by lighteyes and a handful of his men. The shardblade is on a pedestal.

Unfortunately this hits right in the incredibly specific trauma.

Adolin wasn't exactly sure what he imagined would happen when the bridgeman woke. No, that wasn't true. Over the last two days vigil, he had had plenty of time to think.

A haughty sneer, maybe. Or maybe a victorious smile, gloryspren, stormfather knew he deserved glory. More likely shock, surprise at even being alive — his body must have been devastated, he couldn't have expected the blade to heal him after he won, could he? A suspicious part of him had considered the idea of an attack, some form of betrayal, but not...

Whatever this was.

Prince Adolin Kholin stood in full shardplate watching bridgeboy — bridgeman — the Captain who killed the Kingkiller, face him down. Kaladin stood in a corner, one hand outstretched towards Adolin, wielding a scalpel like a dagger.

That arm was the only part of him that wasn’t shaking.

His eyes were feral, terrified. Storms, he had seen the man tackle the Assassin in White out a fifty foot drop with less fear. Shudders wracked his body. His other arm was gripping the one armed Hardashian that had been tending him, pushing him behind, protecting him.

Protecting him from Adolin.

Adolin took a hesitant step forward, hands held placatingly in front of him, feeling abnormally overly large and clumsy in his shardplate, like a chull, or a chasmfiend.

Captain Stormblessed finally spoke. "No," he said.

No, he didn't just say it, he begged. Adolins jaw dropped with shock. Before that moment, he would have laughed at anyone who claimed that the proud man could lower himself to plead like that. It felt...wrong.

"No," he said again, and almighty, were those tears in his eyes?

"Just let my men go. They won't say anything. I won't say anything. I don't want it. You can have it. I don't want it. Don't hurt my men. Please."

He was babbling. The proudest, most taciturn man on Roshar was babbling, pleading. Fearspren writhed sickly around his chest.

Adolin felt sick. He...must have been wounded in the head. That would be the most singularly cruel injury he could imagine. Worse than rotspren taking a hale warrior.

He glanced helplessly at his father, but he looked just as disturbed as Adolin felt.

Or — could the blade be doing this? It was impossible to miss the way it glowed, pulsing in time with the bridgemans gasps for air. Could it be cursed? Granting power, somehow healing a shardtaken arm, a body shattered from falling, but stealing the mind of the man who bore it?

"It's alright gancho," the hardassian said softly. "The fights over, eh? You can put it down, see, we're all friends here?"

"You have to run Hab," Stormblessed whispered, audible in the too still room. "It's a trap. They're going to..." he was barely able to stay on his feet, but he pushed at the smaller man, making sure to stay in between the Kholins and the uncertain bridge four guards.

More fearspren choked the air. Stone faces too — almighty above agonyspren too? Those hadn't even shone up when light had flooded to his shardtaken feet, and that couldn't have been comfortable.

The hardassian frowned. "Gancho, I'm getting the feeling you ain't completely with me. Surely you remember the Lopen? One armed hardassian? Irresistible to women? Your favorite wall decor?"

The Captain didn't seem to hear him, eyes glassy and unfocused. "No," he whimpered, looking at Adolin and Dalinar. "They're not a threat." He pushed the Herdassian further back. "I don't want the blade."

Adolin was glad his helmet was off, because he was pretty sure he was going to puke. This wasn't...he had tried sometimes, to put the darkeyed Captain in his place but storms...it wasn't right. The memory of his own behavior made him sick. Did the Captain really think so badly of him? That he would kill to steal the blade? Or was it just the delirium?

"It's alright Kaladin," one of the guards — Moash said, stepping forward. "It's not going to happen again. Bridge four is guarding the hall, just a shout away."

He glared at Adolin. Storms. Their entire guard thought that little of them?

Kaladin shook his head in Moash's direction, tears falling freely now. "We cant take them all, Coreb," he rasped. "We — you — you have to run."

His father finally spoke. "It's alright Soldier. I'm not Amaram. You're not there. You're safe. You're a hero."

Adolin and Kaladin stared in confusion.

Amaram? What in Damnation?

"I —" Stormblessed's voice cracked.

Father looked... hollowed out. He took a deep breath, then stepped toward the pedestal that held the sword. Moash, incredibly, lowered his spear at him.

Kelek's breath, Adolin knew that his men were loyal to their captain, but...stormfather.

Dalinar ignored him, lifting the sword, cloth wrapping the hilt, stepping forward.

Stormblessed's whole body was shaking now, scalpel barely staying in his grip. Still, Adolin barely restrained himself from stepping up to protect his father. On one hand, he could hardly imagine Stormblessed in a less threatening state. On the other hand, the Assassin in White might have thought the same.

Kaladin pushed Moash back, eyes fixed on Dalinar's approach.

"I am not Amaram," he repeated. "You know that soldier. Do you remember our conversation, after I exchanged the shardblade for you and your men?"

The captain blinked, scalpel still brandished in warning.

“What is a man’s life worth?” Dalinar asked, calmly stepping forward.

“The slavemasters say one is worth about two emerald broams,” Kaladin mumbled, frowning.

“And what do you say?”

“A life is priceless,” he said immediately, blinking hard.

Dalinar smiled, then knelt down holding the blade in front of him, still not touching the hilt directly. Moash sucked in a shocked breath, and Adolin couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

“Coincidentally,” his father said. “That is the exact value of a Shardblade. Two days ago, you saved the four lives I hold most precious in this world, not to mention countless other priceless lives across Roshar. There is no treasure great enough to serve as payment for such a deed. If, as a start, you would be willing to accept what you have already earned, I would consider it a bargain.” He extended the sword, holding it perpendicular to them both.

“I…” Stormblessed blinked down at Dalinar in confusion. ��Sir…?”

The scalpel slipped through his fingers and landed on the floor with a clatter. Adolin exhaled in relief. I mean, the man could probably do unreasonable amounts of damage with his bare hands but — still. One less thing to worry about.

The man blinked harder, eventually turning away from the blade to look at Moash.

"Syl," he said fervently. "Something's happened to Syl."

The lieutenant's eyes widened — he clearly recognized the name. Did bridgeboy have a girlfriend?

"It's alright Kal," he said soothingly. "Syl's tough, right? She always comes back."

"She always comes back," bridgeboy said, squeezing his eyes shut and swaying on his feet. Moash and the little Herdasian both moved quickly to steady him. "She has to come back," he whispered.

Dalinar rose smoothly, stepping back. "Perhaps it would be wise to allow the Captain more time to rest before discussing anything further."

"Of course brightlord," Moash said, nodding respectfully, as if he hadn't leveled a storming spear at his Highprince minutes ago. "Come on Kal." The three started moving slowly back to the bed.

Perhaps they were all going to pretend the last ten minutes hadn't happened. That seemed like a good plan to Adolin right now.

Upside of all this, Dalinar is pretty convinced about the Amaram accusation.

Funny conversation with Zahel because yeah fair enough you didn't need shardblade training but also because of that you definitely need shardblade training

REALLY funny conversation with Shallan because the boot stealing incident already happened, Kaladin's getting feasts and parades, and she's like oh. oh i done goofed.

Don't worry Syl's fine, it's just a tight fit until Kaladin's soul adjusts. She maybe even gets a nebulously defined sick power boost (ability to hold honorblade in physical realm perhaps?!?)

Kaladin gets ordered to go master his new powers and is just like. Ok. But i'm doing it because i want to, not because you told me to.

comes back a day later like Ok I can stick rocks together wahoo.

Comes back three days later like "I CAN FLY!! GUYS, GUYS I CAN STORMING FLY!!" it is the first time any lighteyes in camp have seen him smile and might cause several minor sexual crises

Learning to fly and getting to joyfully share it with bridge four right away because why not :)

Happily swapping the blade around bridge four giving a bunch of lighteyes aneurysms, though Syl insists on always taking it back after a bit because she's maybe sort of also bonded with it and its uncomfortable for it to go too far for too long

Incredibly resistant of new titles/lands. It becomes a thing.

Whitespine Uncaged except its like, 20 guys because it's a desperate trap for Kaladin specifically, trying to get him before he masters the honorblade and becomes the Blackthorn's unbeatable champion and the rest of the world get washed away in a river of blood.

...People are kindof freaking out about the blackthorn having a personal magic assassin

Adolin gets a little more beat to shit but they still manage to wreck everyone. I think Renarin also gets the honorblade for a hot minute and gets to go to town since this one doesn't scream. Possibly more of bridge four gets involved.

Absolute epic clusterfuck of a duel. 'Duel' is really the wrong word for 20 shardbarers trying desperately to kill a minor demigod and two pissed off kholins.

Dalinar and the King actually end up giving back a bunch of the shardblades and plate after the Kholin win because keeping all of them would be it's own political nightmare

i mean the 'duel' was already a painfully obvious metaphor. it's Kholins v Everyone Else time and the odds are not looking good for the everyone else side.

Kaladin gets his boon and duel with Amaram but of course it doesn't go how he wanted. Was there ever even a best case scenario here?

(Amaram desperately wants to become a radiant)

(Amaram has also accurately judged his likelihood of victory against the OP darkeye who has gotten even more OP since the last time he saw him to be approximately zero)

(Amaram sees the writing on the wall for house Sadeas now that Kholin is on the rise)

Amaram surrenders completely, throwing himself at Kaladin's feet, swearing over his lands and all that he owns, swearing eternal service to Kaladin in repayment for his sins. Kaladin really really really wants to kill him in cold blood but FUCK he's got morals that's like his whole thing

Kaladin: oh god does this mean i have to deal with Amaram all the time now

Dalinar: i mean he's yours to do with what you want. you could lock him away forever without trial.

Kaladin: oh god why is that even an option

Dalinar: ...the more politically expedient thing to do would be to keep him on as an advisor, at least until you get a better grip on his lands

Kaladin: oh GOD

Adolin kills Sadeas so now the other highprinces are REALLY freaking out

Actual radiant status gets hidden by glowing sword clearly giving Magic powers.

Like. The crabcat is out of the bag on the magic and flying but the sword is VERY CLEARLY GLOWING so. Fun sideways reveal.

TREMENDOUS number of assassination attempts because i can not stress this enough — this sword makes you unkillable and also gives you the power to fucking fly.

Oh! Forgot to mention: Shortly after waking up/bonding the blade he attends the meeting with Stormform!Eshonai, still dissociating slightly, because Syl is high on honorblade and extremely attuned to cognitive realm. Ends up helping Eshonai get rid of stormspren and bond her own light spren. End result for plot is this:

Rumors filter out that one of his powers is making people Radiant, so that's definitely adding to people going wild over him/The Blade/Dalinar's weird religious midlife crisis

new uneasy partial detante with Parshendi because at least one of them has superpowers now (thanks for that)

the desolation gets pushed back another year (tbh mostly because I want more time to explore plot device/political fallout of Kaladin being an absolutely overpowered freak amongst normies)

Stormlight AU Masterlist

#stormlight au #stormlight archive #words of radiance #my au #stormlight au no 17 #stormlight au no 17b #i've played around with different later game scenarios for this au but i think my fav is still Ialai/Kaladin #i know i know but highprince kaladin stormblessed sadeas is SO excellent he would be miserable and it would cause so many problems #but he's got the charisma and i think they would actually be a really good leadership team. eventually.#like what else are they even going to do with him?? it's getting increasingly uncomfortable that he's not reporting directly to the king #he's technically one of the highest ranking brightlords of Sadeas now that he's assumed everything of Amaram's #ialai is grasping at straws and comes up with a desperate plan for influence. she goes for it. kindof works??#oh my god the stuff with Amaram. the fucking mindgames.#uhh the stuff with Roshone is another post i think idk i'm still cleaning out various drafts and notes #i love this au kaladin is doing literally as well as is possible for a person to do and he hates it so so much #i think this might be my only au where it takes him LONGER to say oaths #nevertheless cosmere

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deebris · 8 months ago

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From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

#imagine #x reader #homelander #the boys season 4 #homelander x reader #the boys x reader #oneshot #the boys amazon #homelander x you #the boys s4 #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #antony starr x reader #the boys homelander #the boys the deep #sister sage

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