#depowered!homelander

[staarboyyy]

┏━━━━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━━━━┓

-ˋˏ [ bowie | 19 | any pronouns ] ˎˊ-

┗━━━━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━━━━┛

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┆ ┆ ┆ *:･ﾟ ↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ ✦ ⌇ ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ↴

┆ ┆ *ೃ bowies tumblr!

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✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧 ; all characters are 18+, written by adult(s), for adults, in adult scenarios. These scenarios can range from explicit, to gorey depending on the given tags. minors do not interact!

★📎 {} .. if requests are open, please be patient with completed drabbles! i am only one person with two weak malnourished thumbs, have mercy :(

☆💬。・i write for characters that have been considered "controversial" in the past, such as homelander, soldier boy, amanda young, etc. if those characters/sources bother you, please feel free to block me and my tags !

☆・．❕「tags」

-ˋˏ #bowies fics [all fics]

-ˋˏ #bowies requests [requested fics]

-ˋˏ #bowies comfort tag [reposts of fanart of sources i love]

-ˋˏ #bowies silly tag [funny reposts]

-ˋˏ #pretty colors!!!@ [reposts of fanart of sources i love]

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

request status ; closed !

✩°｡⋆saw franchise x reader - all gender neutral

; ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .: amanda young x reader

drowning ; unhealthy dynamics, descriptions of violence, s/h mentions slight stockholm syndrome, menetions of kidnapping, fluff, no smut - strangely soft moments and recalling memories of being taken in by amanda and john [ romance ]

quiet morning ; fluff, sleeping with socks, sleepy morning, buffmanda, pervymanda, straddling, teasing - amanda insists you both sleep in. [ suggestive ]

choice ; stroke mentions/slight descriptions, surgery mentions, panic attacks, grounding, hand holding, fluff, "i hate everyone but you" trope - after john has a stroke, you find yourself slightly split between two sides of the same coin. [ angst / romance ]

territory ; apprentice!reader, jealousy, amanda being a guard dog, anatomical terms for vagina, degradation, dubcon if u squint, biting, sadistmanda - amanda catches you and mark going over your lastet work. [ smut ]

; ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .: mark hoffman x reader

worthy test ; dead dove, detective!reader, kidnapping, smut, gender neutral anatomy, gags, rough sex, slapping, needles, drugging, unhealthy dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, size difference kink, age difference, creampie, big ol man tiddies YEEHAWW!! - you and your team of investigators have been after jigsaw's apprentice for months, yet waking up bound to a chair makes way for suprises more sinister than you could have imagined [ smut ]

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✩°｡⋆the boys x reader - all gender neutral

; ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .: homelander x reader

compliance ; sublander, bloodplay, knifeplay, handcuffs, dom/sub dynamic, consent, communication, prior planning, oral sex - getting homelander in a vulnerable position where you put him in cuffs he's not allowed to break. [ smut ]

supernova ; depowered!homelander, homelander reffered to as john, angst with a fluffy ending, domestic sweetness, anxiety attack, eating difficulties - john feels lost after losing his powers despite settling into a "normal" life with you. [ angst / romance ]

; ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .: soldier boy x reader

negotiations ; dubcon, forced orgasms, slight daddy kink, glove kink if you squint, size kink, southern charm, drug use, wall sex, no pronouns used for reader but afab anatomy is repeatedly mentioned - upon joining The Boys to take down Homelander with the help of Soldier Boy, you come to realize he's much more of a hard bargain than you anticipated. [ smut / slight romance ]

; ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .: frenchie x reader

people will talk ; weed smoking, alcohol references, fluff, intoxication, cozy fic, - late night meetings between you, frenchie and a joint [ fluff ]

; ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .: frenchie x butcher x reader

team building ; reader has vagina, weed use / intoxication, supe reaper, enemies to lovers if you squint, hell yeah for long buildup, threesome, lap sitting, oral [receiving / giving], spitroast, lots of petnames - As a Supe on the run, joining The Boys can be nerve wracking - Easing up tension is no easy feat. [ smut ]

✩°｡⋆ Unexpected

; ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ thomas shelby x reader fic [ smut - specified anatomy ]

summary ; the shelby's and your family have worked together for quite some time. when your mother made a bold move against the lead shelby brother, you took to going to apologize personally.

tags / warnings ; intoxication, spanking, grinding, pleasure denial, thomas shelby being a bitch, smoking, masturbation, facial, cumplay if u squint, explicit consent, power imbalance

i. evening ,, ii. morning

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⊹ꮺ˚ masterlist will be updated bi-weekly!

⊹ꮺ˚ for a more accurate list, check #bowies fics ! <3

#bowies fics #bowies requests #amanda young #saw #the boys #saw franchise #amanda saw #the boys x reader #homelander x reader #mark hoffman x you #mark hoffman x reader #amanda young fluff #amanda young x you #oneshot #masterlist #frenchie the boys #frenchie x reader #depowered homelander x reader #depowered!homelander #the boys smut #saw franchise x reader #slasher x reader #the boys tv

[blindmagdalena]

The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn.  ♡

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from. 

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it.  However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel. 

What the fuck? 

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed. 

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust. 

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent. 

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up. 

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you. 

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips. 

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them. 

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows. 

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #depowered homelander #i was originally just going to edit the original post but #i couldn't add a title to it that way #so have a brand new post lol #i never posted this one to ao3 because i always meant to do this #so i'll cross-post this later #also i think i want this to serve as the foundation for my depowered HL verse #especially that one where he's seemingly lost his powers for good #my writing #ho ho homelander #enjoy some wildly out of season christmas btw lol

[deliciouskeys]

Major depowered!Homelander with Ryan vibes, except I doubt he’d look this chipper. Maybe he just arose from his radioactive coma in the Voughtspital, just getting the news that Soldier Boy has been put away into cryo, that he managed to shield Ryan from a fate worse than death (getting depowered), and that his own powers are scheduled to regenerate within the foreseeable future?

#so many fics with this premise and never enough you know? #depowered homelander #don’t mind me #sorry I’m still looking for something and not finding it but finding other pics instead #homelander #ryan butcher #antony starr #american gothic #the boys #the boys tv

[alsofortheb0ys]

DEPOWERED HOMELANDER × MALE READER

I LOVE DEPOWERED HOMIE! I WANNA SQUISH HIM 🤏🧍‍♂️Sorry, if the ending feels rushed cause it was lol. And I didn't proofread too also👍

John sat quietly on the floor maybe a little too close to the television for the good of his now human eyes. He wasn't really paying attention to the random Chopped episode, just giving his harsh feedback at the chef's mistake.

He had no right to given the fact that he has no knowledge of cooking. The box mac and cheese with undercooked noodles and chucky sauce that was still in the pot that sat in his lap that he was eating with an Ikea kids spoon.

Ever since losing his powers nearly a year ago, this was the daily occurrence for John. A constant cycle of depression that never went away.

His whole purpose, the reason of existence was stripped away from him. Vought quickly got rid of him without thought.

They took nearly everything. His apartment and other properties he had. Most of his money. Gave himthe excuse that the bank was a Vought account since he had no form of identification to open one.

Sure, they gave him enough to live out the rest of his life but it was pay for his silence that came with a NDA but they offered no mental treatment for all those years of manipulation and abuse they put him through.

Now he just sits at his and Y/N shared apartment waiting for his return. Y/N was his sole reason to keep going. His light that never stopped shining.

Y/N still worked for Vought, sometimes being gone for days or weeks. There wasn't much of an option to leave. They had trapped him just like John.

Even using John as bait for him to stay. He gets John, Vought gets Y/N.

John wasn't stupid, he knew Y/N wasn't staying by choice but still he felt betrayed.

Y/N always greeted John with the biggest smile and shower him with kisses and praise. John couldn't get his head around how he still loved him. Most of the time John didn't shower of days, still in clothes cover with sweet Thai chili sauce and sweat from his nightmares.

Powerless and useless.

Today would be no different. After getting to the last bit of his food, John hears Y/N's key jiggling as the lock turns.

"Johnny, I'm home!" Y/N says kicking off his snickers as he never comes home without changing out if his costume. Not wanting to risk their privacy and identities.

"You cooked something? It smells good!" Y/N said with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I did that pasta and cheese thing in a box." John answered with a smile, slightly pride of himself for cooking and because he was happy to see his boyfriend.

"Give me a bite. I'm hungry." Y/N flopped down on the couch, placing his legs on either side of John.

"Is this a new episode?" Y/N says with a mouthful of noodles.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't wait to watch it with you. I wasn't sure when you'd be back."

Usually the two of you watched it together. It was silly but the show was a comfort, reminding him of you and it always eased his mind.

"It's okay. Just watch it with me again."

Y/N began kissing the back of John's short hair that was now brown as the dye wore off and John didn't bother to dye agian. John decided to shave his hair due to the fact it got matted and tangled due to him not bathing.

Well, he did it with your help. John cried while you did it. It felt like he was saying goodbye to who he was. He was no longer The Homelander. A god among men. But John. A weak mud person.

"Stop, Y/N. I'm dirty." John tried slipping away but Y/N's arms were quick to wrap around him, locking him in place. He felt shameful he didn't shower. If he had enough self well, he'd usually shower if he knew you were coming home even though it felt like a huge task.

"It's fine. Don't care. I just want to kiss you."

John gave in and signed. Truthfully, he didn't want him to stop. He loved it. Loved any ounce of affection Y/N gave him, even though he knew he didn't deserve it.

They sat in silence while finishing the episode. Y/N never stopped giving John kisses, just slowed down, giving them ever so often.

"Want to take a bath with me?" Y/N asked as the credits rolled.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Let me just wash the dishes."

John went to get up but Y/N sat him down.

"Let me soak it and l'lI I deal with it tomorrow." Y/N grabbed the pot and ran to the sink before John could argue.

Even though the act was sweet, it upset John.

Validated he feelings of being useless. John felt tears prick his eyes but quickly blinked them away.

"Alrighty! Ready to go, baby?" Y/N bounced back into the living room, outreaching his hand for John to take.

John nods and stands to his feet, taking Y/N's hand into his. Without any warning, Y/N scoops John into his arms. His arms tuck under John's legs, their chests touching.

Instead of giving protest, John begins to cry uncontrollably. Y/N begins to panic while in his stops right in his tracks.

"Baby? John, you alright? Did I hurt you?"

Y/N tries to turn John's face to look at him, his right hand gently resting on his cheek but John doesn't move.

"No...no..no. P-please...I'm sorry." John wails, his tears soaking Y/N's shirt.

John felt so stupid in the moment. He was crying like a baby while being held like one.

What sets him off is when he remembers when he'd carry Y/N. To the bedroom. The bathroom. After a long day.

John loved being taken care of but he loved giving care. For most of his life, he made decisions based on his satisfaction but when he found Y/N, he felt selflessness. He gave love as pure as Y/N's.

But he can't do it anymore. He takes more than he gives. Y/N gives his all while John wastes away, taking and taking.

He's powerless. Just another thing added to the growing list of things he can never do again.

"No, baby. Don't be sorry. What's got you upset, puppy?" Y/N rubs small circles along John's back as he calms down.

John feels like he's cried all the tears he had. He just whimpers while chewing on the collar of the dirty shirt he was wearing.

It was a coping method Y/N taught him. For the longest time, when John had a panic attack or was overwhelmed, he would hit his fists against his head or bite his lip.

When he was a supe he ran no risks of hurting himself, but he wasn't any more.

He'd bite his lip bloody and bruises covered his cheeks for the first few months. Y/N was there every step of the way, whispering praise and sweet words as he cried himself tired.

Today was no different.

John sniffed, still chewing on his shirt.

"Puppy, you want to talk about it or we can later? But we're going to have too. It's important I understand what's going on with you. I need to know what's the matter."

Another thing that made John hate himself. To Y/N it was important he knew John's emotional well-being but John never paid attention to his.

He couldn't count how much times Y/N would come home stressed from Vought breathing down his neck or how times Ashley called during one of his very few off days.

It was because John didn't understand his own emotions let alone someone else's. He was never taught how to properly deal with them. Just left alone to bottle them up till he exploded.

But Y/N helped him even though John felt like he was going nowhere. Y/N was so patience and caring it almost makes him sick.

"Y/N...I'm useless. W-why don't you hate me?" John finally whispers out, slightly muffled by the t-shirt in his mouth.

"Oh Johnny, you're not." You gave a kiss to his temple. "I love you. Love you so much."

"N-no, y-you're lying. No one can love me." John could feel himself being to tear up again.

"No, baby. Look at me." Y/N gently takes John's face in yhis left hand, making him look at him this time. "I love you with powers and without."

"You sure?" John bearly whispers.

"Yes, baby. More than anything." You promise. "Now do you want to tell me what's up?"

John signs and snuggles his face against Y/N's neck.

He follows Y/N steady breath and feels their heartbeats almost in sync. The warmth of his skin against his.

"I just want to be able to care for you. To be strong for you." John sniffles, he wants to cry again. "But I can't. Feel so useless and weak.

"Aw, my baby. You're not. You're so so strong and I'm so proud of you. I know it's hard for you and can't even imagine how hard you've had it but I'm here for you no matter what."

"You promise?" John's voice was bearly auditable. He sounded like a child making his parent promise that there was no monster under the bed.

"Yes, puppy. I promise." Y/N seals the promise in with a kiss on John's forehead. "How about that bath? You have some cheese on your hair."

"Yeah. I'd still like that."

"Alrighty, baby. You wanna walk or you wanna be carried the rest of the way?"

"Carry. Please." John's words slurred slightly. It seemed that all the crying had suddenly taken all his energy.

"Ok, Princey. All that crying must have gotten you tired huh?"

John doesn't verbally answer but just nods againstY/N's neck. They make their way to the bathroom, Y/N humming a little tune; John closes his eyes and listens.

Y/N sets John on the side of the tub and fills the water, checking once in a while to see it the water's too hot or too cold. He added a bath bomb, a gentle scent of lilies.

Oncethe tub is filled, Y/N begins to take off John's clothes. He never really wore much. Usually one of Y/N's shirt and a pair of boxers.

John closed his eyes tightly. Lately he had a hard time looking at his own body. He was never as muscler as his suit used to show but he didn't need them with super strength. He was much more scrawny now and it made him once again feel weak.

Y/N's warm hands grounded John before he strayed more into his self consciousness. He had picked him up and put him into the warm water. John had opened his eyes to Y/N's removing his clothes.

John smiled. His boyfriend was gorgeous. He felt like he could stare at him for days just admiring his beautiful figure.

"Did I ever tell you you're handsome?" John said as he closed his eyes again. This time not to advoid seeing himself but relaxing into the bath.

"Lots, yes." You chuckle as you gently move John forward so you can sit behind him.

"Well, you are."

Both fell silent as they enjoyed their bath together. Y/N's wandered, lathering soap on John's body. His hair, his back, his shoulders, his chest, every part of him treated gently.

"Y/N?" John breaks the silence.

"Yes, puppy?"

"Thank you. For everything. I know I'm hard to deal with. I'm trying to get better. I promise. You stayed though you didn't have to. But you did. I want you to know I'm grateful." John teared up again, not out of sadness this time.

"It's okay, Johnny. I stay cause I love you. I know you're trying and you have been better. Just baby steps."

John did feel better. He had a ways to go but Y/N was with him and that was all that mattered.

#homelander #the boys series #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #depowered homelander #homelander fanfiction

[sehtoast]

Directory and Info

howdy! welcome to the fun house where you'll find an excessive amount of homelander fanfics written by myself and shared from others. you can call me kenny! asks are encouraged and super appreciated <3

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#Sehtoast #directory #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader #homelander smut #depowered homelander #homelander x oc

[krazyyy]

More depowered Homie cause its my new favorite thing~

#homelander #depowered homelander #the boys #fanart #the boys series #mrskrazy art #also sorry Ive been kinda dead got some serious artblock and haven't felt too motivated but hopefully im coming out of it now #id love some sort of parallel to him being put in a white room all alone like he had been when he was young #give all the angst

[mommy-mortis]

I like the idea of Hughie taking care of a freshly depowered Homelander and that includes sharing his clothes

#jack quaid #antony starr #homelander #hughie campbell #the boys #homelander x hughie #depowered homelander #hughielander

[xieyaohuan]

I keep forgetting there are people out there who really, really hate Homelander lol. Like, damn. These people have some violent fantasies:

"I want to see Homelander slowly bleed to death over the course of seven hours. In real time."

Ugh. No. Just no.

#just depower him #and put him through some distress for our enjoyment #and then give him a bitter sweet ending where he's depowered and hated by all but also gets some genuine love from someone #homelander #the boys #seriously where can i go vote on this?? #this is old but it's making the rounds on twitter and i'm reading it for the first time (I think?)

[sightofsea]

the way i can predict the next few story arcs of the boys immediately through kripkevision (aka the sight u get from forcing yourself to watch 14 seasons of spn and then promptly forgetting about all of them)

#soldier boy next season big bag homelander depowered desolate on the streets yelling (big win) #addicted to temporary v pitiful little man. boys homelander team up but homelander crosses them the second he gets offered v #annie mini villain leadup arc that gets solved. everybody else im unsure what will happen and tbh thats why im way more invested in them

[staarboyyy]

supernova

depowered!homelander x reader | no pronouns

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; homelander reffered to as john, angst with a fluffy ending, domestic sweetness, anxiety attack, eating difficulties

summary ; john feels lost after losing his powers despite settling into a "normal" life with you.

word count ; 1k

a/n ; i posted this a while back to my old ao3 and wanted to put it here, please enjoy !

‘ When a massive star runs out of fuel, the force of gravity causes it to collapse on itself and explode. The stars' remains are fired across the galaxy at a speed of forty thousand kilometers per second. Entire galaxies are outshined by the death of one star - A supernova.’

    “Do you think I’m still - Me?”

   

    “What do you mean?”

John fell silent to this question, his eyes cascading slowly over the small apartment before him. It was nothing at all like his room in the tower. Empty, walls barren and painfully dull, the windows only give way to the falling sunset's leaking sunlight, furniture worn in and bought second hand. You pursed your lips as you watched him take in the room for the hundredth time today, his eyes tired and lost, heavy bags underneath the once glittering blue gaze you found yourself swimming in. With a sigh, you bring yourself closer to him on the couch, causing him to give a quick glance to you - John is still himself. Painfully so. Your hands were hesitant for a moment, raising to gently comb through his now fading hair, the dark brown blooming at the roots; Yet his tired eyes suddenly widening at your movement stopped you. He was defenseless, not having left the apartment you bought together for quite some time, losing the muscle mass he once flaunted with shameless pride. His posture had even changed, instead now slumping forward with his elbows resting on his knees, wearing loose pajamas you had brought him home. 

    “It’s all I ever was. So what am I now,”

    John began in a soft voice, his eyes faltering as they drew away from you, to your hands. In his mind, your hands looked different. Everything about you did. He took a slow inhale, the breath swelling in his chest in the same unfamiliar fashion it did since he lost his powers - Everything had become so much more delicate in his eyes; The first time he had helped bring in the couch, you two now sat on, he couldn’t bring it in on his own, and found himself soon weeping on the ground before you, hardly able to explain with words how pathetic he felt he had become. Useless in more ways than he could ever think. Even the small things, having to keep up with eating and drinking water, had become more of a challenge than he had anticipated, and it showed in how his fingers trembled. He so desperately wanted to be grateful when you reminded him, but he still seemed to have a glint of fierceness in his eyes when you did - How dare you assume you knew better than him? But now you had. You had come to know him more than anybody else in the world.

    “You’re here. With me. In a shitty one-bedroom apartment with terrible plumbing, and a t.v on the ground. But, you’re here still. If that was all you were, you wouldn’t still be here, you know?”

    Your words made his breathing hitch slightly, head falling to avoid your gaze - This was something he did far too often these days. Choosing to let the words fester angrily in his mind, the feeling of his lashes becoming wet from the absurd uncontrollable urge to cry, making his stomach turn nauseatingly. John hated crying more than any of the other traits that came with losing his sense of self. How the unbridled heat gathered tightly in his throat, unable to breathe through it how he normally would have. It’s suffocating how his breathing shakes, his hands clenching in feebly weak fists, nails digging hard into his palms. It hurts. Searing hot, the bubbling need to let a sob break from his chest seems to take over all other rational senses. A strangled gasp escaped him, your arms coming quickly to wrap over him as he shakes his head - He wants to pull away, to scream, to collapse to the floor and beg for whatever God there might be to take him back. To pull him back to the subconscious torture of being the face of America. 

    “I can’t protect you - I can’t even protect myself.”

    You held onto him still, your grasp firm in an attempt to ground him. The feeling of his panic rising made him feel absolutely sick. To experience adrenaline in a way he’s never felt or seen before, to feel the fear he once drank down in careless gasps - It made him feel glued to the spot, a deer in the headlights. Your arms felt strong, felt stable, and hard around him as you pulled him closer to your chest. For so long, John had been able to hear your heart from standing yards away, and now the rarity of it became one of a cherishable sound. His ear pressed against your chest, his breathing still faltering as he listened quietly, foreign tears lacing down his cheeks in slow streams, his eyes wrenched shut in an expression of agony. 

    “You’ve always protected me; You never needed powers to do that. You make me feel safer than anyone, even now. Especially now.”

    John’s eyes slowly opened at this, the sound of your steady heart filling his head, silencing his own thundering one. To him, protection had always been dependent on his strength over others, mind, and body. How he was so easily able to twist words, make others blood run cold with just the sound of his voice or a squeeze of his gloved fist. His eyebrow twitched, lips moving briefly to form words that refused to leave his now swimming mind. He looked nearly confused at how you could so easily speak to him despite your shifting expression of furrowed brows, eyes warm and sympathetic. Normally, John would have jumped at this type of rumbling fear, using it to fuel the continuing power he bathed in - But instead, he slowly raised his hand to meet your cheek. It used to feel so malleable underneath his fingers, yet the warmth spread over his palm now, gently moving across the soft skin with a soft rumbled exhale from his lips. 

    “You promise?”

    “I promise.”

    And then for just a fleeting moment, his breathing calmed. Everything felt safe in this moment, his hand on your face, gently clutching you in hopes of not losing you. Never losing you.

#bowies fics #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x oc #homelander x y/n #the boys #the boys tv #the boys x reader #the boys x you #homelander x male reader #depowered homelander #depowered homelander x reader

[blindmagdalena]

Back pain anon again, I love homie but he would honestly be such a whiny mf depowered. He’s like an angy kitten in the way that every new thing is an Indignity to be Suffered. He can’t hear through walls and you actually startle him? Humiliating. Stubbed his toe? Absolute misery. Oh gosh Imagine him getting SICK? Like actually ill? He would 100% think he’s in hell. Sorry king you have to take Tylenol like the rest of us

The man who has never so much as had a toothache in his life suddenly has to deal with the fact that sitting too long makes his back hurt, but lying down wrong will make his neck AND back hurt. He's got a headache because blue light from screens suddenly affects his eyes way worse, he definitely needs glasses to read, but he won't admit it, and on top of that, he didn't sleep enough last night. You've discovered he has 'Princess and the Pea' syndrome, and no matter what he does, the bed just doesn't feel right.

He catches his finger in the door and screams so loud, you'd think he'd been stabbed. He's grouchy as fuck when you bring him ice and a mix of painkillers.

"What, mixing narcotics now?" He asks sourly. " They're not narcotics. It's ibuprofen and Tylenol." "Great, because fuck my liver, too, right? Might as well wash it down with a sixpack of Pabst," he grumbles, slumping back against the couch.

You sigh, setting them down on the table alongside a glass of water. "Take them or don't, I'm just trying to help," you say, but as you turn to leave, he catches your hand. "Wait, just... Sit down a minute, alright?" He says, voice tight. It makes you feel a little guilty. You know this is hard for him, but it hasn't exactly been easy for you, either. With only a trace of lingering reluctance, you sit down. He still has his fingers curled around your wrist. His thumb absently taps against your skin. "What is it?" You ask, trying not to sound as tired as you feel. He's not the only one who hasn't been sleeping. His lips are pursed, jaw tight. Every so often his jaw will relax, his lips will move as if to speak, but inevitably they tighten back up. He wants to answer, he has something to ask of you, he just doesn't seem to know how to.

Perhaps he wants assurance. Comfort. You were beginning to feel like he was taking your words for granted, but... You startle him by pulling your hand out of his grasp. He looks up at you, ready to protest, but stops when you catch him by the back of his neck, and pull him down into your arms, cradling him to your chest. "It's okay," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair. "It's going to be okay. I promise. I'm going to take care of you."

He's stiff for a long moment, rigid in the gentleness of your embrace, but when he lets go, he sinks wholly into your hold. He slips his arms around your waist and nuzzles up into the crook of your neck, exhaling a shaky breath.

It's been harder these days than it ever was for him to admit any weakness at all. At least when he had his powers, he felt safety in being vulnerable with you. He had the means to protect himself, to be independent. He was physically invulnerable. Now, it's as if any admittance at all of needing you terrifies him. More now than ever, now that he relies on you for more than just his emotional needs.

"I love you," he says quietly, hands balling up into fists in the fabric of your shirt. He squeezes you against him, and though he may not be a supe anymore, his grip is strong. Needy. "I know," you say, voice soft. You stroke through his hair with one hand while the other rubs soothing circles on his back. "I love you, too. We're going to get through this."

He doesn't respond other than by pushing into you, forcing you to recline back onto the couch. He's still as warm as he ever was, and his weight feels good against your body. You exhale a deep breath, only now feeling how much tension you had been carrying.

Limbs tangled up on the couch, you both sleep better than either of you have in weeks.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #depowered homelander #my writing

[deliciouskeys]

Zinc Molybdate is now complete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41531043/chapters/104160903

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Billy Butcher/The Homelander | John

Tags:Violence, Confinement, Loss of Powers, Physical Abuse, Imprisonment, Bondage, Slow Burn, Forced Cohabitation, taming, Discipline, Dubious Consent, Accidental Bonding, Homelander Whump, Blindfolds, Sensory Deprivation, Handcuffs, enemies to enemies with benefits, Enemies to Lovers, A dash of Stockholm Syndrome, enemies to lovers to maybe friends but it’s under duress and not healthy

Completed: 2022-12-11 

Words: 40k 

Chapters: 9/9

Illustrations from some awesome people:

https://mkqdot05.tumblr.com/post/701657441524416512/scene-from-chapter-2-of-zinc-molybdate-by

https://xieyaohuan.tumblr.com/post/697431014432178176/today-i-learned-that-zinc-molybdate-is-white-i

https://vanshoundd.tumblr.com/post/703283324701081600/zinc-molybdate-fanart-for-lexyhamilton

#this started out as a foray to write depowered HL and private prison which I assumed AO3 would be full of after finishing the show #i'm just chuffed I finished a multichapter #endings are hard #thank you so much to all readers who've kudosed and especially ones who've commented #please let me know if you liked it (or didn't lol) if you have the wherewithal #also an enormous thank you to people who've illustrated parts of this fic #I am completely floored #zinc molybdate #fanfiction #writing #butchlander #billy butcher x homelander #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff

[sehtoast]

Envy (AU Homelander Meets Depowered Homelander x OC)

18+ | 3.9k. Kidnapping, stalking, domestic fluff, two Homelanders, depowered Homelander, Homelander on Homelander violence, smut if you squint, Benlander | Fic Directory

“I will look for you in every lifetime and love you there.” In another universe, he has everything he could ever want. Yet, there is always something missing. Something he's always wanted.

Inspired by this. Special thank you to @reactornumber04 for pitching it as a Benlander idea, and to whoever is behind that darling anon for sending @blindmagdalena such an awesome concept <3

The world is his throne.

An amalgamation of blood and ash, built atop a mountain of bones of the unworthy.

He is more than a king. He is a god.

He is god.

So why does he feel so goddamn alone?

Why do the hundreds who throw themselves at his feet, begging him to use them to his heart’s content, do nothing to alleviate his pain? Shouldn’t the void be filled?

Shouldn’t the ache have subsided long ago?

He basks in their love, but it isn’t the love he needs. In fact, it only makes him ache more. It reminds him how empty he really is. Reminds him of what he’ll never truly have. Reminds him of each time it ever slipped through his fingers.

He lingers above the clouds to hide his tears. Lets the sun’s warmth wash over him, eyes shut as he lets go. His mind wanders beyond the bounds of his norm. Somehow there is tranquility here despite what goes on below. Despite all that he’s done.

He could get lost up here. Forget everything and everyone and just…

Be.

He lets himself fall.

Further and further…

He feels strange, but he lets it pass.

Further…

The sounds of the world warp, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Further…

When he opens his eyes in preparation to halt himself, he’s… somewhere else. The air doesn’t stink of decay. The skyline of the city is intact. The occasional body floating down the Hudson isn’t there. Vought Tower peeks proudly through the jungle of skyscrapers, and he’s disoriented.

His head pounds as he takes in the sounds. The honking of horns, the hum of machinery and the roar of the subway. All the things he’d done away with in his world flood back into his senses. When the overstimulation fades enough to focus, he finds himself drawn in another direction entirely. It’s as if something calls out for him and only him. It grasps him with an overpowering familiarity around his body and pulls.

He doesn’t even notice the mix of confusion and elation in the faces below.

Homelander floats leisurely, letting the feeling guide him until he’s on the roof of a little home in Queens. The last specks of gold cast from the setting sun graces him as he peers inside. He scans the boxes in the attic first. Each one seems to hold nothing of importance. Old clothes, worthless keepsakes, photo albums, and then…

One catches his eye. Inside rests… his suit?

Homelander blinks in confusion. He’s certainly never gifted one, so how..?

Unless it was a copy, in which case it would be a very good knockoff.

He shakes his head and continues observing, peering through to the next floor. The scent of citrus touches his nose as he scans over the bathroom. Clean and well kept, aside from the chaos of products on the sink countertop. Water droplets coat the inside of the shower.

He moves onto a spare room. Its only purpose seems to be serving as a staging ground for tech work and a few hobbies.

The sight in the next room makes him stop breathing.

There, on the bed, lies a man reading a book. One hand adjusts his glasses. A mop of unruly brown hair rests on his arm, and he can hear the soft snores. Normally, he wouldn’t give a single fuck about something so mundane if not for the fact the man in that bed looked exactly fucking like him.

Some things were different. The knockoff’s hair was fully brown, and certainly wasn’t being kept after the same way his own was. His eyes were an identical blue, but why were they so… soft? Scruff covered his jaw and neck, and there was a tiny, pink scar at his cheekbone, but it was undeniable that this man looked exactly fucking like him, even with other subtle differences.

Homelander watches with wide, focused eyes. Stares at this alternate version of himself in disbelief and fascination.

“Mm,” he hears the other person mumble. “Time is it?”

"It’s uh…” his alternate self speaks. Homelander’s lips part. “About eight.”

They have the same voice.

He looks through the layers of blankets and clothing to check the man’s left hip. He’s stunned at the sight of a birthmark identical to his own.

It’s unmistakable.

The too-real suit. The resemblance. The mark…

That’s him.

But why the fuck is he…

Homelander watches that mop of brown hair finally lift to reveal a young man with the most striking brown eyes he’s ever seen. Something in his gut drops when he sees how the boy looks at this strange version of himself. There’s such warmth, such gentleness in his eyes. He finds that ache renewing in his chest when the pair kiss.

Homelander has had many people try to give him such a look, but their anatomy always betrayed them. Their cortisone was too high, or they would reek of fear. Their hearts would race and their brains would stink of deception.

But not this one…

Whoever this was, he looked at this version of himself with an affection that rang true through his entire body. Heart beat just right, not a waft of fear. Even his other self was reciprocating genuinely.

What the hell is this?

He watches the younger man grumble something about ‘it being time,’ and attempt to roll out of bed before he’s snagged by the arm.

“Absolutely not,” chides his other self. “You’ve been running around since before the sun came up. An hour is not enough sleep.”

“But I gotta–”

“Benjamin.”

So that was his name.

“Two hours,” the boy says before shooting a web and yanking a red, white, and blue suit off the corner of the floor. Interesting power… “I’ll bring home dinner?”

“We already ate.”

“Oh,” Ben chuckles. “Right...”

Homelander watches him take the suit from Benjamin’s hands and toss it to the end of the bed.

“C’mere,” he lifts his arm, offering himself as a pillow. The boy returned to his embrace eagerly. “You gotta make time for yourself, babe. Sleepyheads don’t make for good heroes.”

Homelander spent days watching the pair. He found a way into the attic and lingered there when he wasn’t following the bug around the city. He decided that the web-head was insufferable. Noble to a fault, altruistic, kind, and painfully lenient on even the worst of the criminals he apprehended. Worse than that, he was the leader of The Seven. The completely reformed Seven, at that.

And the way he treated him– or, well, his other self…

He wanted him.

He wanted what they had. Every fucking minute of seeing them together, seeing their love, was a torture in and of itself.

This is what he needs.

Watching them make their stupid little grocery trip before cooking their stupid little dinner. Seeing himself cut and saute vegetables, actively assisting in the process…

Guess this version of himself was only good for domestic work, given he was without his powers.

This, above all else, disgusted him. Benjamin deserves a partner who can keep up with him, if not exceed his limitations. He deserves someone who can make things fun. Throw him around a little, fly him above the clouds and take him anywhere. But, instead, the bug settled on sticking around with this useless excuse of a man.

Why?

Why does he smile at him? Dance with him in the kitchen to no sounds beside the sizzles from the stove? Why does he let this pathetic nobody dip him back and kiss him?

How is it that he’s not faking a single ounce of pleasure when this human ruts into him?

”J-Johnny!”

The sound sends a jolt straight to his cock every time, and he touches himself as he watches, despite his ire.

Why does Benjamin look up at that disgusting, scar covered, sweaty fool and proclaim his love? Kiss his forehead and tell him that finishing early didn’t disappoint him? What makes it so fun to share a bubble bath with him and scoop suds atop his head?

And why the fuck does his alternate self love it so goddamn much?

Homelander, for as much as it confused him, wanted so badly for all of this to be his. They could be happy together, too, right? All he would have to do is dispose of this lesser man, and he could swoop in and show Benjamin just how perfect their lives could be.

By the third week, he snaps.

He nabs his sniveling, weak self out of the kitchen with ease. His mirror image was too stunned at the sight of him to even speak.

“What’s wrong, ‘Johnny?’” He snarls as they whip through the air. “Forget how to fly?”

He drops him a few times for good measure, really solidifying the fear that he’s at the mercy of, well… himself.

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to kill the loser. Homelander tells himself it’s for insurance in case Ben catches on, but even he knows that’s not quite true. He monologues endlessly about how interesting this world is. Tells the tale of how he brought his Earth to its knees in under three days’ time, slaughtering world leaders and eviscerating military ordinance left and right. He and his loyal fans– followers, now, took care of the unworthy. By bathing in blood, he cast a new light across the whole world. It was meant to be paradise, except for that one tiny little detail.

That thing he was missing.

“So, I’ll be borrowing your little bug boy.” He explains with a grin, staring down at his tied up self. “Sure you won’t mind, right? You gotta know this isn’t the life he deserves.”

He can see that jab hit home. Sees his body shake with anger and fear, hears the chain and shackle keeping him in place rattle just the tiniest bit.

“What kinda fuckin’ pussy do you gotta be to lose your powers, anyway? You were bigger than god himself and you just, what? Pissed it all away?”

His other self clenches his eyes shut and bites down on the gag.

“Ah, well…” Homelander grins, quirking his brow. “Hey, whaddaya think’s for dinner tonight, anyway? I bet I can get him to make steak… And, heh, when we finish up, I could probably show him an even bigger piece of meat. If you know what I’m sayin’,”

He leaves after a few more taunts, eagerly barreling back to that quaint little home before Benjamin can return. His suit gets stashed under the bed, and on goes some of his other self’s clothing. He hates to admit that they’re comfortable.

The only thing preventing him from looking totally the part was his hair, but that is quickly explained by a trip to a stylist once Ben arrives home. Finally saying he wants to take care of himself properly. Look nice and handsome again.

He greets the bug with a kiss that no amount of restraint can disguise as anything but starved.

“Woah, there, tiger.” Ben giggles, thumbing at his right cheekbone. Homelander spots a flicker of curiosity. “What’s got into you?”

“Same thing that wants to get into you,” he remarks with a smirk. Ben’s laughter is warmth in his very soul, even if the bug told him he’d rather wait till later in the night.

He could do that.

He could wait.

He bullshits his way perfectly through their banter. After so long observing, he knows just how to play the part. Expert actor that he is, he even makes sure to nibble on his lower lip just like his alternate self does when he’s thinking to himself.

It’s perfect.

The way they curl up on the couch together, the way Benjamin runs a hand through his hair. He can tell the bug doesn’t suspect a thing. Heart beat is in check, adrenaline isn’t spiked, and there’s not a lick of fear emanating from that cute little body of his. He’s in heaven.

That void in his chest feels full, and he has the last piece of the puzzle.

Everything’s perfect… until Ben tries to leave.

“I gotta go out tonight, pumpkin.” The web-head explains. He’s already dressed in that silly spandex suit of his. “Personal responsibility aside, it is part of my contract to keep Vought off your ass, y’know.”

He rolls his eyes, and grabs Ben’s arm.

“I said, no!”

It all went so smoothly until this. Why did he have to ruin everything? Why couldn’t he just fucking stay here?

Homelander grips Ben’s arm, and he sees the moment when the illusion fades.

Too hard.

Too strong for a human.

Ben looks at him for a moment with narrowed eyes.

Homelander stays completely still, hoping that not reacting at all will dispel the realization and everything could go back to normal. He should force him to sit the fuck down and snuggle. Have him run those fingers through his hair some more, spread his legs later and be the perfect partner Homelander knows he can be.

But it’s too late.

Those hands land on either side of his upper arms and he’s being walked to sit on the bed. Benjamin takes a seat beside him and takes him by the hand.

“Man, I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t totally crazy, but…” The bug strokes the back of his hand as he speaks. “How did you get here?”

His eyes flicker red for a moment, ready to blow clean through his head and end his failure before it can get even worse. But, it is precisely this action which earns him a soft smile and a kiss to his knuckles. The crimson heat withers away almost instantly.

“M’not gonna hurt you. I promise.” Ben tells him. Admittedly, he caught on to the difference fairly fast. His sixth sense, combined with the fact Homelander was missing the scar on his cheek were the dead giveaways. Benjamin had to keep himself in check until he was absolutely sure, and, even then, he had to wait for the right moment to slip out and search for John. “I just have questions, y’know?”

Some way, somehow, those gentle eyes pulled every word from him with ease. Even as he tells his tale of conquest, he finds more understanding than horror looking back at him. Seemingly against his will, he devolves into a tirade about how fucking alone he really is. How miserable and sad his life is, despite having everything.

“But then I saw you two, and I…”

Benjamin nods, chin resting atop Homelander’s head. His heart hurts for him, despite the disgust at his deeds. He wonders if this would’ve been Johnny’s fate had things not gone the way they did. If, perhaps, he never did join The Seven. If his love never lost his powers. The immaturity and fury in this man rages hotter than it ever did in Johnny– even back when he was still Homelander.

He lets this one weep. Encourages it, even. Shushes him and weathers the ache of his impossibly strong grip. He wonders if Homelander has ever been allowed to let go. If anyone's ever held him together. Ever wanted to.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved…” Homelander sniffles.

By the time he settles down, Benjamin has missed his window to go out on his patrol. He hums while Homelander catches his breath. One hand strokes up and down his back while the other thumbs at his cheek.

“You’ll find your way, pumpkin.” Ben tells him. “Life makes us wait, and it especially makes us work. Johnny and I took a lot of both, especially work, but it turned out in the end.”

Homelander scowls, but no burning fury rises to his tongue.

“Even though I’m pretty sure our worlds are super different, I think you’ll find your person.”

It’s the kindest rejection he’s ever faced in his entire life. They sat there for a time, allowing a sense of calm to return. He could’ve almost forgotten everything that happened.

“Hate to break the moment, but uhm… I do kinda need my husband back, y’know?”

Homelander scoffs, but stands regardless. He pulls his suit out from under the bed and begins undressing. To his surprise, Ben helps him zip back into it and figure out the cape clasps.

As they flew to the dock warehouse, Ben giggled about the nostalgia of flying.

It was cute.

The mess they’d found his other half in was, however, quite the opposite. Heaving breaths and sputtered cries shook him, and his vitals indicated a full blown panic attack. It’s laughable. He’d only been there for a few hours, what–

“Oh, baby…” Ben coos, kneeling beside him to untie the gag and release his wrists from their binds. “Shh… S’okay now. Look at me.”

John’s hands moved to protect his face as soon as they were free, and Homelander watched with curiosity as Ben walked his other self through various methods of grounding. In a way, he almost felt… wrong for having done it. A disgusting, foreign feeling, and he wasn’t quite sure why he felt it. He certainly felt nothing of the sort massacring half of his Earth.

“I’m not there,” John gasps, a chill creeping through his body as the adrenaline and fear began to subside. “Not there, not there, not there…”

“That’s right, pumpkin.” Ben affirms. “You’re with me. You know that means you’re safe, right?”

John nodded vigorously, sitting up to embrace Benjamin, burying his face in the bug's neck.

He's so fucking pathetic, but…

God, Homelander wishes someone would hold him like that. Maybe if someone would've wiped his snotty little face, kissed his brow, loved him enough…

He shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts.

He’s met with a piercing stare from his other self. It’s almost laughable. Like a house cat threatening a lion.

Homelander watches the pair stand. Sees how Benjamin frets over possible injuries, pats him down despite all the reassurances there were none. It’s endearing, almost.

He trails after the pair as Ben swings them home. Watches how his other self relaxes his hold around Benjamin’s neck, completely and utterly trusting that he won’t get dropped for the umpteenth time in one day. He can tell that the nighttime air chills him, and he can hear Ben apologize and promise a hot bath.

Something in him feels wrong when they arrive back at the house.

Benjamin invites him in, but something isn’t right.

He isn’t right.

His body tingles and his head feels like it’s floating away from his body. He pretends to feel fine as they all take a seat in the living room to discuss everything.

He stifles a breathy laugh at the way his counterpart sits away from him. Yet, somehow, there’s an ounce of guilt.

Ben explains the fine details to John, but he doesn’t excuse the behavior. Makes sure to motion to Homelander when he tells John just how sorry his superpowered self was for such an act.

Homelander grumbles out his apology– yet another thing he’s never done before now. At least, not with any real sincerity. But the look in Ben’s eyes makes him want to mean it. So he says it again.

This time, he gives it meaning.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you.” His throat burns with each word. “For hurting you and trying to take him away from you.”

The tingling feeling returns tenfold.

Something must be happening, because the other two look at him with wide eyes. A glance down at his hands, and he appears to be dematerializing.

“W-What the fuck?” He stands abruptly, swatting at his body as flakes of light float from him. He rubs his arms, wrings his hands, he panics. “What’s happening to me?!”

Arms wrapping around his body startle him. Tears well up in his eyes when he realizes it’s not only Benjamin, but his other self as well.

“Think you’re goin’ home, pumpkin. You got this.” Ben murmurs against his neck.

The ache settles into his heart once more, but it feels different this time. He’s going to lose this.

“I don’t wanna go…” He sniffles, staring down at that head of unruly brown hair. “I– I wanna stay!” It’s warm here. Even when it’s hard to find, there’s still a degree of peace. And Ben– Ben’s so nice to him.

“I wanna stay!” He repeats desperately. “Don’t make me go…”

Hands rest at his face to make him focus.

“Look at me,” his other self says. “You’ll find what you need. Just gotta let it come to you.”

He shakes his head.

“Time and work, Homelander.” Ben reminds him. “I believe in you.”

Just as the tingling feeling becomes a full body vibration, his other self redirects his gaze. Blue meets blue, and he feels Ben hug him tighter.

“I forgive you.”

The feeling explodes, and he feels his body fade in and out of nothingness. He’s unsure what’s left of him, but he imagines some of those glowing particles still linger. Maybe Benjamin will miss him..?

He aches in the void. Sobs and screams, pulls at his hair.

He’s a wreck for an endless amount of time, floating through nothing until he blinks and he’s somehow back.

Back in the halls of Vought Tower, repurposed to serve as his worldly throne. Homelander meanders aimlessly. His followers salute him as he passes by, but his gaze remains fixed on the ground.

Why does everything look so gray?

Everything’s so… quiet.

Why is it so cold here?

He floats up flights of stairs to avoid people. Makes his way to the conference room with an idle mind.

Something just told him that’s where he should go.

He watches the city from his glass palace. The skyline doesn’t fill him with a sense of power as it once did. The crumbling decay only serves to remind him of how dismal it all really is here.

He stares. Contemplates. Loses himself for perhaps an hour or so.

He even ignores the sound of timid footsteps approaching him.

“Mister Homelander, sir?” asks a familiar voice.

Couldn’t be…

Their heart beats like a jackhammer, and their adrenaline is sky high. They smell so familiar, even covered in the stink of this world.

He turns around, stunned.

“I uhm… Sorry, sir,” outstretched is a hand to shake his. A spinneret rests at the base of his wrist. Soft brown eyes dart back and forth between meeting his gaze and looking away.

He’s nervous, but… he’s not afraid.

“I’m your new uhm…” The boy trailed off, chuckling nervously. “My name’s Benjamin– er, Ben is fine, too. Your choice, of course. I guess I’m your new whatever-you-want-me-to-be. T-They didn’t really specify, y’know?”

Homelander’s eyes soften, and he fights the bite of tears.

Time and work.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Benjamin.” He smiles down at the boy fondly. “Welcome home.”

note: this may become its own series depending on how badly it gives me brain worms

#homelander #homelander x oc #depowered homelander #homelander au #the boys au #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #antony starr #the benlander agenda #benlander being the standard across multiple universes is hehehe so good #au convergence

[krazyyy]

Saw some people talk about a depowered Homelander having brown hair cause he no longer dyes it when his powers are gone and I adore this idea.

#homelander #john gillman #antony starr #the boys #fanart #au #mrskrazy art

[plasticfangtastic]

Cozy Corner Domaystic--Prompt: 3. Grocery Shopping, 18. Snow Day, 21. Road trip (sort of)

Charred Steak

A Butchlander fic

Sypnopsis: Butcher is in charge of taking care of Homelander.

Tags: Fluff?, non-canon anything, partially-depowered Homelander, depressive, one-shot, not proof read i die like this.

word count: 1.5k words

This is the forth time he’s heard this song on the radio, one can only tolerate the same country cover before been driven insane but is better than nothing, their car only had an old stereo and he rather not drive in silence with this company, they’ve arrived to their cabin and found it more than just barren, ordered to stay out of sight and hidden until further notice so it was just functional not comfortable but at least it'll do, the snow was piling up and the sun had begun to set-- all Butcher wanted was anything in his stomach and a drink to warm him up, then worry about tomorrow and the road.

Leaving the cargo behind he headed to the nearest town over an hour away, in normal circumstance he wouldn’t dare leave this guy alone but now he can’t go anywhere, he’s bound to the ground like any other sad sod in the world should-- or at least for the most part, but he’s not complaining he himself doesn’t want to do anything, he’s rotting away on his passenger seat or the floor, the most he’s spoken this whole drive to the middle of nowhere America had been to complain about the amount of ads on the radio then over this song.

But Butcher pays him no mind.

This drive is short compared to the last few days, the song just an annoying reminder.

The supermarket is a little small, but he can at least take a breather in aisle dillydalling as he reads the ingredients and cooking instructions, he was no gourmand much less Gordon Ramsey so he would eat anything.

Homelander much the same--he had no taste for food not eating much either, losing weight to a worrisome degree even his bosses had ordered him to feed him, so he stuffed the trolley with a decent variety of things in hopes he liked something, he ignored the ringing on his phones, too exhausted to deal with the rest of the boys after such a long drive, just wanting to get back and eat.

He picks two packs of steaks seeing which was the best deal, he should buy the cheapest chuck knowing Homelander doesn’t deserve anything but dollar store steak but he puts the T-Bone on the trolley nevertheless, he can’t really brush away the image of Homelander’s distraught, how dead he was, after all these days bound together Homelander feel more like a husk dressed and bleached than his archnemesis.

Reading his shopping list he got he milk, the hot cocoa, enough water for a month, he got the bread, butter, canned chili and beans, too many cans that at some point he’s unsure if they will eat it all, toilet paper, frozen vegs and lots of steak, he shouldn’t be buying candies... Homelander seemed to despise anything with fructose unless its coke.

But he still throws a few in there.

Butcher almost wishes the snow buries his car and leaves him stranded if that meant he can stay away from the blond.

But he makes it to the cabin, he looks up and sees no smoke.

He ran as if his life depended on it, his mind only remembers the Homelander of the past, he’s gone and he’s fucked.

The door slams open and he’s taunting the air with his gun but all there is a mess hovering a dwindling flame, wrapped in a blanket and shivering, his foot sticking out and blue.

“You’ll get hypothermia that way… don’t you know how to keep a fire going?”

Homelander doesn’t reply, his eyes yearn to light up but he’s just there immobile on the ground and if his head hadn’t move just a second prior he would had thought it was a corpse. 

Homelander doesn’t move when Butcher fixes the fireplace again, but he will pretend to not have noticed that the man squinted and smiled as the warmth enveloped him, he catchest that odd look in his eyes as he touches him to put that poor foot back inside the quilt.

Butcher does his things, putting things away wishing he would help or talk but all Homelander wants to do is sit by the fire like a cat.

“They said on the radio that the snow storm is only going to get worse… we will be stranded so if you want anything I didn’t get at the shops you better speak up now.”

Homelander says nothing.

“You… whatevah…”

Homelander doesn’t do anything, Butcher can fix their temporary residency for a couple days without protest.

He looks at his watch and realizes that Homelander hasn’t eaten or drank anything for hours, he looks at the man grunting as he forces himself to care for him, picking him up from the ground and finally earning a response from the man, he looks at Butcher wincing at him trying to push him away but while there is strength that doesn’t match those thin arms, he’s still weak.

Dragging him up, the man looks away from him-- he looks more angry than ashamed

“I’m gonna make dinner. Be useful and set the table.”

Homelander stood there as Butcher looks back at him and for some disturbing amount of time Homelander stood frozen, but without making a sound he floats and helps him out, he moves smoothly and quicker than most but not in a manner that seemed natural for him.

“Is that… good enough?” His voice is so dry, it hurts to listen, he nods for putting a table wasn’t rocket science– what are you making?”

Butcher grins surprised to hear the bastard wanting to chit-chat.

“Steak and veggies.” He says bluntly.

“Better than slim jims and whisky…” 

He sounds normal for a second which gets Butcher to turn around, he much rather listen to this version of him instead of the corpse tied to him.

“You got milk but no whisky… Did you forget?”

Butcher eyes light up in horror, the snow so thick outside he knows it probably not a good idea to travel anymore not at this hour.

“You did get slim jims…”

“Is better if I stay sober if am s’ppose to be stuck ‘ere with you until I get my next orders.”

Homelander smile is more somber than Butcher wants to witness-- he can tell he's bullshiting him so his hearing isn't all gone, this situation is dire but he still looks at the disheveled blonde with a bit of anxiety, his suit long gone replaced by dark coloured sweats, missing a sock and a beard that's gone from scratchy to scruffy, Homelander has been docile for the most part, Butcher becoming his nurse bathing him, washing his hair, shaving that god awful beard... he’s been comatose for weeks, waking up and being no different than a vegetable, moved from coast to coast away from Vought and their minions, Butcher has gotten uncomfortably familiar with Homelander, so when he acts alive its great but it annoys him.

It was weird for Homelander to talk or move this much these days-- Butcher almost gotten accustomed to the potato sack, he can't tell if Homelander will act out but Butcher has learned some tricks to keep him tame.

He lowers the flame letting the steak sizzle and crisp and the veggies boil without supervision for a moment, as he maneuvers around Homelander to take a pack of Werther’s candy from the pantry, Homelander watchest him closely as he rips the candy open.

“You've been a good boy. Haven't tried to run in a whole week… thought you deserved a treat”

“Twisted ankles hurt so much more than I expected it… simpler to break them… what’s the point of running if it’ll hurt afterwards... don't get me started on sore knees."

“You won’t run anymore, right?” Butcher teases Homelander, pressing the cream coloured candy in-between his fingers lifting it towards Homelander’s mouth– you’ll be a good sweet boy for daddy and stay right where I tell ya to stay, right?”

“Is not like I can leave you.” He looks out the window– is also snowing quite a bit… we both can’t leave each other either way."

“So you’ll be a good boy and behave?"

“yes, daddy” He says mockingly.

Butcher presses the creamy candy on the blond’s lip his tongue stretching and catching those calloused fingers, Butcher knows he shouldn’t get to know him more, he hates the bastard, but as the man suckles on his fingers, remembering bittersweet memories-- Homelander is so sensitive to the pain, so sensitive to everything else too... he'll do anything not to feel pain but something else.

It was wrong, it was sick but Butcher found it cathartic, more cathartic than the bruise on Homelander’s neck... now a sweet shade of olive, his mouth watered at the thought of being trapped together.

Homelander smiled crushing the candy as Butcher’s fingers escape those sharp toothers, still sharp enough to rip bone clean, he knows well... he got the stiches to remind him.

“I don’t like well-done steak.”

“Youse get what you get.”

“You don’t like well-done either.”

“Fuck.”

The snow piles up, Butcher and Homelander eat in silence, the snow piles up outside, and the two stare at their plates in awkward silence.

Butcher smiles just a tad as the man can only muster a sizzle on the meat.

“See you do like it well-done, luv.”

“Gives it some flavor… you forgot to season it.”

“Butter and salt is enough.”

“Your people colonized the whole world for spices—

“Shut up and eat your steak!”

Homelander smiles, chewing loudly as Butcher wishes he’ll go back to being silent.

#butchlander #homelander #billy butcher #cozy corner domaystic #my fic tag #personal

[homielander]

my biggest pet peeve about the boys fandom discourse is everyone is very quick to point out how vought is an amalgamation of amazon and disney and every megacorp in one, but whenever it comes to this show's resolution (specifically regarding homelander), that awareness flies out the window and i'm forced to endure one take after another celebrating homelander's inevitable death because it will be a happy ending and fix every problem. discounting that this is a very emotionally motivated and punitive view of justice (would depowering him not be sufficient to keep him from harming others?) i feel like the show has gone to great lengths to spell out that homelander is a product of his environment... just another victim of vought's exploitation and callous disregard for human life.

this applies to other supes as well. annie's mom says outright that annie was injected with compound v in exchange for their hospital bills being covered, a-train didn't have a stable home life based on his account from s1 and it's likely a similar arrangement was worked out there, and iirc some vought promotional snippet mentioned that supersonic signed on to a supe team after vought paid for his rehab. after preying on vulnerable kids and families, vought flings them headfirst into missions even though they're not properly equipped to exercise their abilities and someone is accidentally killed (we've seen this happen with homelander, a-train, and crimson countess, to name a few). new supes realize the heroes they've idolized their whole lives are completely uncaring in the face of this violence. and even though substance use is widespread among supes, there don't seem to be any constructive efforts made to curb it because it succeeds in dulling any moral qualms they might have about vought's culture of casual violence (a-train is the only exception but that's because his substance use begins to impede his speed, thereby impacting the bottom line). and at the end of the day, all their transgressions are covered up by vought, which opens the door to all sorts of legal and psychological debts.

and anyone can preach about strength of character, but we know maeve suffered from this slow moral deterioration, and we were seeing it take place in real time with annie in season 1 (only maeve and hughie's interference stopped it). their best intentions did not matter! homelander is no different, except that his conditioning was far more severe (and admittedly he was less hesitant to abandon any notions of doing good when his status was threatened, but that's not at all surprising when you consider his upbringing).

the point is that vought enables and encourages supes to abuse regular people. that problem has never been exclusive to homelander. homelander is trying to subsume vought but it is an institution that existed before him and will persist after him. i guess it's not a surprise that so many people peddle homelander as the "real villain" considering we mostly experience events in the boys' pov but it does make most conversations about this show's endgame insufferable. god bless

#like the posts i saw while s3 was airing... some of u have lost the plot sorry #and tbf the show has gotten a lot shallower in its depiction of supes as it's gone on #anyway im rewatching s1 and having a lot of fun #homelander #the seven #the boys