#homelander x original character

[blindmagdalena]

Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Ch 8 )

homelander x oc 18+  escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

chapter summary: After the disastrous spectacle that was Homelander's birthday celebration, America's "disgraced" hero is forced to reconcile with the demons in his head, and what that means for Layla, the woman standing precariously in their path.

additional tags: unhealthy/codependent dynamics, threats of violence, themes of abuse, canon deviation. 🖤

Sleep is a scarcity. Homelander fades in and out of consciousness, but he never truly rests. It’s strange to sleep somewhere he can't see the comfort of his own gaze endlessly mirrored back at him. Those mirrors make the world so much bigger, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind how small it is. What would normally be a dark, claustrophobic thing is now a great deal safer than the open expanse of a stage.

Layla’s warmth and the faint weight of her arm around him is the only thing that keeps him somewhat tethered. Her heartbeat is a steady metronome against his back, her breaths warmly ghosting over his neck and shoulder. It’s been hours, but it feels too soon when the covers move on his skin as she readjusts in her sleep, pulling her arm from him. He lifts the blanket and rolls to face her. 

She’s turned away from him, her dark hair fanned out in a wild splay on the pillow beneath her. Light from the unsleeping city spills in through the window, illuminating her figure. It’s strange to see her sleeping in day clothes and not the sleepwear he’s used to seeing her in. She didn’t have the time to change tonight. She was too busy taking him back into her arms, into her bed, into her life. He brushes his knuckles down between her shoulder blades, the disheveled silk of her blouse soft beneath his fingers.

He’ll find out why Starlight’s scent is lingering on her when she wakes.

Sliding closer to her, he flattens his palm over her hip and noses at the line of her throat, inhaling deeply, chasing the scent beneath shampoo and lotion until he finds what’s simply her. Her wine flush has followed her into sleep, her skin warmer than usual. She responds to his touch with a sleepy sigh of pleasure. Even now, the sound of her voice does so much to quiet the storm in his heart. He screws his eyes shut and buries his face into the soft tresses of her hair, gritting his teeth against the urge to squeeze too tight. 

The urge to keep. 

The urge to break it all apart and let the storm rage. Instead, he keeps himself perfectly still, trying to swallow the thrumming energy coiling in his tense muscles. End this, the darkness in him hisses, tempting him. How many days has he resisted the urge to reach out, not with his hands but with this thing inside him, and ruin everything? Everyone? A flash of crimson is all it would take to cleave this world in half.

But he can’t afford to. Not then, not now.

The only way he made it out of the cold isolation of the lab, far away from the bad room, was by convincing the staff, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was good. He was their perfect man-made hero. Logically, he knows they can’t ever put him back in the bad room. He’d never let them. It doesn’t stop the nightmares.

He folds in on himself, doing his best to forget that he even has power to wield against others—a whim as sharp as glass. Now, just as then, he orders his body and mind to still, to calm.

If Layla had stayed yesterday morning, things would have been different. His tightly controlled grip on her hip flexes minutely. How can she sleep so deeply knowing that she’s ruined him?

What was she doing with Starlight?

The inkling of a deeper betrayal slithers into his mind. He slides his hand up the length of her torso, traversing the familiar scape of her body, and into her hair, coiling his fingers into a gentle fist of it. One twist is all it would take to quiet her soothing voice forever. Would hair ever feel the same to him again, or would it start to smell like burning tears and cornea? The stench of grief hits him so suddenly that his eyes sting with it, and he recoils from Layla like he himself has been burned.

Has she been scheming against him all along, too?

Fucked. He’s so completely and entirely fucked.

He exhales harshly, curling his hand into a tight fist and biting into the meaty curve just below his thumb, muffling a tearful keen. He can’t think back to that morning without reliving how horribly it went wrong, and how the dominos just continued to fall until he was losing his senses in front of the entire world.

Those moments on stage play over and over in his mind, but each instance of them grows more warped than the last. He’s starting to forget what he really said, conflating memories with nightmares. How much of himself did he really let slip? How ugly does the world think him to be now? 

He can see the headlines now.

Homelander: America’s Fallen Hero

Homelander: Vought’s Poster Boy Throws a Tantrum

Homelander: Deranged Freak Snaps On Stage

He’s spiraling worse than he did during Stormfront’s smear campaign against him. It isn’t just dissenting opinions and slander—he’s finally given them real ammunition to use against him. The question is: how much, and how will he refute it? He needs to be able to recover from this.

His voice of reason is treacherously quiet. Nothing but the dreadful echo of I warned you.

With his thoughts twisting in on themselves like a pit of angry, writhing snakes, he finds it impossible to stay still any longer. His whole body is plagued with a restlessness that turns into agony. Carefully, he extracts himself from Layla’s side and slips out of her bed. He needs to see it for himself. He needs to understand the degree of damage that’s been done to him.

Stepping out into her living room, Homelander picks up the remote for her television and flips it on, dropping the volume to such a miniscule level that he’ll be the only one to hear it. He lowers himself down onto the couch and stares, watching his body move and speak, seemingly puppeteered by someone other than himself, operating in ways he’s never seen himself behave in front of a camera before.

“I’m done being persecuted for my strength–”

Erratic.

“Persecuted for my strength–”

Unhinged.

“Persecuted–”

Alive.

If they want to take us down, we’re going to take every last one of them down with us.

The sky is just barely beginning to turn with dawn’s light when Layla wakes to a chill that rolls up her spine. Her bed feels colder than it has any right to, and as the fractured events of last night spill back into her mind, it doesn’t take her long to figure out why. 

Homelander—who knows if he’ll accept that name yet—is nowhere to be seen.

Her temples throb with the aftermath of emptying a hefty bottle of wine as she lifts herself from bed, running her hands through her hair, breaking apart the tangles with her fingers.

The breadcrumb trail of Homelander’s suit leading from her balcony to her bed tells her that he hasn’t left. The image of him streaking through the sky in the nude does occur to her, though. Straightening her borrowed blouse and tucking it back into the waist of her skirt, she steps lightly through the dark of her apartment, head on a swivel, until she spots her quarry.

Reclined on her couch, Homelander paints an image somewhere between a renaissance painting and a billboard for depression, his body illuminated by the flashing light of the television. His expression is morose, his hand sitting on the couch next to him at an angle, the remote tilted in his loose grasp. As she approaches, he begins tapping on the volume until his own recorded voice fills the empty space between them.

It’s his tirade from last night.

“Hey, babe,” he drawls from the couch, voice pitched low and despondent. The way he pops each consonant makes the pet name sound downright derogatory. “So, what’s the verdict?” He asks, lazily gesturing to the television with the remote. “Is it everything you thought it would be?” His gaze slides from the screen to her, his head lolling to the side with it.

Any concern or lingering sleepiness in her face is swiftly replaced with bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

“‘Excuse me?’” He mocks, pitching his voice up condescendingly. Her expression hardens as he stands, the remote bouncing along the couch cushions where he tosses it. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing anything with you,” she responds tersely. She’s never been a morning person. Compound that with the ache in her skull and the naked pain in the neck standing in front of her, she’s not feeling her usual bounty of patience. Last night, he was a weepy, sopping mess. Now she doesn’t know what to expect from the tight line of his shoulders, or the agitated curl of his upper lip. “I have no idea what it is you think you’re picking at.”

“Since when are you and Starlight pals, then?” He hisses through his teeth.

Shit. Annie. She never sent that text.

“Since yesterday,” she answers, her calm stretched thin. “She saw me at the elevator. She offered a shower and a change of clothes. That’s all.” She doesn’t find it necessary to explain why Starlight might have offered such a thing. He knows exactly how she looked when she left his penthouse, bruised and disheveled.

The memory looks to serve as a crisp slap, some level of clarity filtering into the incensed glaze of his eyes. His grip flexes, and he bares his teeth in an animalistic flash of frustration. He isn’t willing to accept fault for that yet.

“Stop fucking lying to me!” He snaps, the sudden jump in volume startling her. He advances on her sharply, halting her step backwards with an iron grip, his palm against her throat, his thumb and index finger notching perfectly behind the curve of her jaw below her ears. The contact is minimal, and yet the strength in those two fingers alone is more than enough to hold her firmly in place. 

“You’re all the fucking same! Agendas, lies, all of you trying to control me, use me, and you—you’re exactly the fucking same. You’ve taken everything from me,” he snarls. Despite his fervor, his grip remains remarkably controlled. Sometimes it’s as if his mind and his body are two independent entities: one an unstable, emotionally malnourished psyche, and the other a finely tuned weapon.

The human mind wants dangerous things to be ugly, but even now, Homelander’s twisted, angry expression is not an ugly thing. Though adrenaline surges the thrum of her heart, it isn’t laden with the fear any reasonable person would have. The thrill coursing through her isn’t rooted in some comfort that he won’t hurt her. It’s the knowledge that he—more devastating than any man she’s ever known—absolutely will if not handled correctly.

It’s like holding a thundering storm in her bare hands.

Layla stares wide-eyed and astonished, so thoroughly unaware of what he’s accusing her of that she struggles to speak around the hard lump in her throat. He leans closer yet, clutching her with all the same strength, tenderness and menace of the ocean cradling a ship.

“I killed her,” he whispers, the words passing between them like a confession to God himself. He’s so near, she could rest her forehead against his if she wanted. “I killed her for lying to me. I’ll kill you, too.”

Madelyn Stillwell. The name returns to her like a ghost, the hairs at the back of her neck prickling. Or was it Stormfront? The unnamed mother of his child? One was the victim of a domestic terrorist, one committed suicide, and the third is yet undetermined. All of them are apparent casualties of Homelander’s turbulent presence in their lives. Is she to be the fourth in a string of tragedies? Rage swells so suddenly in her heart that she almost chokes on the fire of it. What right does he have to interrogate her and  threaten her?

“Are you glad?” She asks, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hand holding his wrist in turn. “Are you glad to have killed her?”

His expression flips as if he’s been struck, crinkled brows shooting up. “What?”

“Will you be glad to have killed me?” She asks tightly, her nails biting ineffectual crescents into his titanium flesh. Her tone is sharp and no longer meant to soothe. She speaks to cut. “Or will you just be even more alone?”

Like hers, his eyes turn glassy. “No,” he says softly. She doesn’t know if that’s an answer or a plea.

“Let me go,” she tells him firmly, fighting to hold onto the fires of her own indignant anger. His abrupt flashes of softness and vulnerability compromise her resolve.

“Go where, Layla?” He snaps, suddenly loud again. His broken desperation and seething anger make his voice reedy. “Where the fuck could you go that I wouldn’t still feel you? Kill you, fuck you, love you; you’re in my fucking head!”

You’re all the fucking same!

She isn’t dead, but he’s treating her like a ghost nonetheless. As if she’s already one of the many specters haunting him.

“You love me?” She asks him, snatching that precarious lifeline out of the messy slurry of his words. She’s not sure that he knows the meaning of it. 

Does she?

The tension in Homelander’s face goes slack, stricken to hear those words fall from her lips. His mouth opens and closes as he tries and fails to form the right words. It’s too vulnerable to say yes, and too complicated to say no. Ultimately, he can’t bear to answer first.

“Do you love me?” He asks, defensive, as if she were the one who brought the terrifying gravity of love into the equation in the first place. The weight of it turns her tongue to lead.

There’s an adolescent sense of fumbling in this moment that would be endearing if he were not clutching her jaw with inhuman strength, the whispered promise of her death hanging over them like a creaky guillotine. In another life, this could have been a very sweet confession.

“Do you?” He prompts her again, desperate. He cups the back of her head with his other hand, taking a step closer. His chest bumps her forearms where she has them tightly braced, hands clamped tightly over his wrist. It’s a meager barrier to uphold, but she does so steadfastly. His hold on her is suffocating, his agonized ocean eyes filling up her vision. He’s larger than life, leaving space for little else in her life ever since he crashed into it.

Even when he’s gone, she is consumed by him like a fever that refuses to be sweated out. When her career first began, she knew well enough not to entertain superhumans. It wasn’t a bias she held against them per se, but the opposite: she knew from the start that she would become intoxicated on the danger of them. Homelander is the epitome of everything she’s ever been too afraid to let herself love. He’s the first person to ever be enough of a risk to scare her, and enough of a reward to satiate her. She can feel her destruction lurking in him just as plainly as her parents found their own in their shared thrill seeking.

“I want to,” she whispers, a secret she’s denied even to herself until now. “But you’re making it so fucking hard.”

He exhales roughly, something like hope softening the tension in his expression before he screws his eyes shut, another wave of agony contorting his features. His forehead thumps gently against hers. “I don’t know—I don’t know how else to be. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to make it easy.”

Finally, he releases her jaw from the snare of his grip, only to take either side of her face between his hands, pulling away to look at her. He’s always been younger than her in a multitude of ways, but in this moment, the agonized youth in his eyes takes her breath away. “I was—I was made to be loved. I was supposed to be everyone’s hero. They poked and prodded me, manufactured me in a-a fucking lab to be perfect, but no one—”

Layla’s eyes widen, her heart seized. What?

Homelander bares his teeth like a wounded animal, breath hissing in and out of his clenched teeth as tears roll down his cheeks. “But no one does, no one fucking does, no one loves me,” he says through his teeth, nearly choking on the words. “I don’t understand how to make it easy, Layla,” he sobs, hands shaking on either side of her face. She can’t tell if it’s from sheer emotion, or the restraint it takes not to crush her between them.

“So just—tell me what I need to do, please,” he begs her, devastatingly beautiful in the same way the sprawling webbing of a shattered mirror is. “Tell me how to be easy to love.”

Breathless, Layla stands there with her heart bleeding so freely, so painfully, that she swears there’s warm blood soaking onto the pristine white blouse she wears.

There is a monster in Homelander. At times, she can feel the claws of it in his grip on her. Hear it growling in her ear. When it comes to handling monsters, banishment is always the remedy. Slay the beast, free the man. Homelander’s monster is not so easily felled, nor is she certain it should be. He was not born with sharp teeth and claws. From what she’s gathered, they were filed into fine points long before he was a man.

People like to think of the monster within them as an outside force. Corruption, propaganda, the devil. Layla has spent enough time in bed with people’s deviance to know better. The proverbial devil is not outside of humanity, but embedded deep within It cannot be safely extracted any more than a beating heart can.

But corruption isn’t a heart—it’s a stomach. 

It craves and yearns, it twists and aches and growls when hungry. Just as Eve ate of the apple, humans take bites of sin to satiate their monster. Like people, monsters come in a wide variety of shapes, temperaments, and cravings. Some beasts can be satisfied with a nibble here and there. Others require more. Some never learned how to know when they’re full.

After all he has been deprived of, Homelander may never be truly satisfied, but does that mean he doesn’t deserve to be fed at all?

No, Layla thinks. It doesn’t.

Both of their faces are streaked wet with tears as they hold one another’s gazes. Gingerly, she brings her own hands up to cup his face, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “Okay,” she whispers, afraid her own voice of reason will hear her. “Okay, my darling.”

Relief helps smooth the crease between his brows, but it doesn’t dissipate entirely. “Say it,” he urges her, the hands still upon her face giving the faintest nudge. “Say you love me.”

“I love you,” she says, teary and quiet, but with conviction. She leans in, and he allows her to, no longer holding her firmly in place for fear that she might suddenly vanish. “I love you,” she says again, a promise that ghosts his lips. He shudders. “I love you. You’re in my head,” she says, echoing his own words back at him. Her lips brush against his in a not-quite kiss. “You were from the start.”

He exhales a pained, keening sound, pushing his fingers into her hair and pulling her deep into a feverish kiss. His hunger for her is voracious, and his desire is a force she might not withstand—not by virtue of its violence, but because of its sheer magnitude. He kisses her fiercely, one arm slipping around her middle to keep her body from bowing under the weight of his love.

“I love you, too,” he breathes, the relief in his voice palpable. She takes the air of it into her lungs like it might save her. “I love you so fucking much.”

It’s dangerous, she knows, to trick herself into believing she can satiate his mountainous hunger. Danger is like an ice bath, though. You grow accustomed to the bite of it.

Morning light creeps slowly into Layla’s condo. Homelander trails her as closely as her own shadow, breathing in against the crook of her neck while she cooks breakfast. He’s partially dressed in his undershirt and underwear, his suit folded neatly upon her vanity for the time being. It’s nice to feel his arms around her without the obstructive padding of his suit. Without the bulk of it, she fits more closely against him, his superhuman warmth like a particularly cuddly space heater pressed against her back.

“One egg or two?” She asks him, plucking one from the container on the counter.

“Mmm… Two,” he says, the deliberation making it sound more like a trivia answer than a preference.

She cracks four eggs into the pan, one at a time. “Over easy, medium, hard…?”

He grins against her neck, and she gives his hand at her hip a playful little swat with the back of her silicone spatula. “I dunno,” he says, nuzzling her. “However you like it.”

“Have you never had eggs before?” She asks, looking back at him. 

He’s got his chin propped up on her shoulder. His gaze flickers up from the sizzling pan to meet hers. “Just scrambled.”

…I was made… manufactured in a fucking lab…

She swallows a small lump in her throat, turning back to the eggs. She flips them all over easy and plates them with the toast. When she takes the toast off of the plates and begins slicing them into strips, Homelander makes an inquisitive noise.

“You’ll see,” she says cryptically, shooing him to the table as she plates their breakfasts and carries them to the table.

Homelander sits, and she sets his plate down in front of him. She sits on the adjoining corner to his, but within seconds he has a grip on her seat. The chair legs groan as he slides her closer to him, smiling at her look of surprise. “That’s better,” he says, his knee bumping hers.

He’d likely prefer she be in his lap. There’s always a lingering sense that she’s never quite close enough, even when they’re pressed tightly against one another. He might not be satisfied until he finds a way to open her up and crawl inside.

Huffing a small laugh, she gestures to his plate. “Use the toast sticks to break the yolk,” she tells him, and then demonstrates on her own meal, jabbing a piece of toast into the soft yellow yolk, coating it properly before taking a bite.

Blinking, Homelander does the same. He hums appreciatively, nodding with a mouthful of food.

“My gramma insisted that all food tastes better when it’s dipped. She always made my breakfasts this way,” she explains, her smile tinged with bittersweet nostalgia. “I can’t remember the last time I did it for myself.” 

Silence follows. She glances up to find Homelander staring intently at his plate, a cut of toast pinched between his fingers, dripping yolk back down onto the egg. Layla takes a breath to speak, but that inhale is all it takes to snap him from his thoughts, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers.

“Ryan would like this, I think,” he says. She can tell he’s working to keep his voice conversational.

“Ryan?” She echoes, though it clicks a second after she says it.

“My son,” he confirms, clearing his throat gently. She shares his trepidation as he enters this particular topic of conversation, considering the fallout the last time it was broached. He dips the toast again and takes another bite, seemingly buying time with deliberate chews.

Layla bites her tongue, choking back her own knee-jerk response. She likes children just fine, in theory. She’s had very little practical experience. Still, words of unbidden advice bubble up on her tongue as if she’s an expert. She wants to tell Homelander to go to the boy, talk to him. He told her that she had taken everything from him, presumably referring to his very public meltdown, but that isn’t true in a number of ways. He has a son out there somewhere, confused and without either of his parents.

It sets a sympathetic churn in her gut. Grieving her own parents as a child made an adult of her far too soon. She may not have raised any children herself, but she can speak as a child who was left behind.

“He’s nine. He’s strong,” Homelander continues tentatively. “I mean, really strong. Strong like me,” he says, pride underlining each word, driving out the hesitance. “He’s so much like me. I never thought I’d see it, but he’s real. He’s—” he breaks into a small, incredulous laugh. “—He’s a miracle. A real, born miracle.”

Unlike you, she surmises from his tone. He said that Vought had made him. The world has been rocked by the revelation that supes are the result of Vought’s pharmaceutical ventures, but the way Homelander talks of his son makes him sound different. An exception to that fact, somehow.

“You should go to him,” she encourages, still holding onto a level of cautiousness on the matter. “I was left behind by my parents. I don’t wish it on anyone.”

“I didn’t leave him behind,” Homelander corrects sharply. She was right to tread lightly. “He left me,” he says, though he doesn’t speak with anger so much as he does woundedness. He’s never expressed anything but love—bordering on reverence—for his son, and yet he has completely roadblocked himself from reaching out.

It’s complicated, he told her before.

“He’s nine. It’s not his job to uncomplicate things or bridge the gap,” she says as gently as she can muster, though even she can hear the weariness in her own voice. “It’s yours. He needs you to be the adult, to help the world make sense. It’s one thing to give him space, but you can’t abandon him.”

At first, there is a flash of petulant defiance in Homelander’s eyes, obvious in the tight set of his jaw. To Layla’s relief, however, it fades into quiet consideration. He looks back down to his half-finished plate.

“You can’t take personally what anyone, much less a child, does out of grief,” she says softly, reaching out to put her hand atop his where it rests on the table. “Ryan needs wisdom. Support. People who love him. He needs his father.”

He looks up at her with a level of vulnerability in those ocean blue eyes that never fails to pull her into the depths. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she says firmly. To this day, she can’t imagine what she wouldn’t do for just one more day with her own father. 

Slowly, the wateriness of his gaze becomes a sparkle. Homelander smiles. He has as many smiles as an ice cream shop has flavors, and this one says he’s just had an idea.

“What?” Layla asks after a beat, an edge of suspicion to her tone.

“Nothing,” he says placatingly. His smile shifts. She knows that flavor of smile. That one means he’s lying. “Just relieved is all. Could I use your phone?”

It’s a wonder the ease with which Homelander glides from mood to mood, as if he puts each one neatly in a box before he takes out the next one. Layla only hesitates for a second before she nods, sliding out of her chair to go and fetch her cellphone. She still needs to text Annie.

“Jesus,” she says softly, staring at her screen with a deep crease in her brow.

“What?” Homelander asks, leaning in his seat.

She has thirty missed calls, and about as many text messages.

THIS IS ASHLEY BARRET. HAVE YOU SEEN HOMELANDER? IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS, PLEASE CONTACT ME. PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS. MISS ALDEN PLEASE CONTACT ME AND ONLY ME IF YOU HAVE SEEN HOMELANDER. IF YOU CAN PLEASE INFORM HOMELANDER HE IS UP.

Ashley Barret. Layla recalls the name from Homelander’s initial booking. She had been the one to handle the details and arrange payment.

“Ashley Barret is very desperate to find you,” she says, reading the texts as she walks back towards him. “She says that you’re… up.” She stops at the table, looking at him. “What does that mean?”

The chair legs scrape audibly against the floor when Homelander stands up. “Give me that,” he says, taking the phone from her outstretched hand. His expression pinches tightly as he scrolls through the messages, lips parted. “I’m… up,” he says slowly, processing the words that mean nothing to Layla. With a tap, she hears a dial tone. Homelander holds the phone to his ear.

“Miss Alden–” answers a feminine voice immediately.

“What do you mean I’m up?” Homelander interrupts, a harshness to his voice that Layla doesn’t expect to hear outside of an argument.

“21 points with your base,” Ashley says breathlessly.

Homelander’s expression softens, becoming wonder-like. “What did you say?”

“21 points. They loved your speech!”

He looks at Layla, familiar glassiness returning to his eyes. He lifts his loose hand, which curls slowly into a fist, as if he’s taking hold of something precious, some nebulous concept of grace he had thought lost. 

“A massive 44% uptick with white males in the Rust Belt.”

“Yes,” Homelander hisses through his teeth, pumping his fist triumphantly. “Fuck yes! Yes!” With that same hand, he suddenly takes hold of the back of Layla’s neck, pulling her into a deep kiss. Her noise of surprise is muffled against his lips, his tongue a slick demand on hers.

“They’re saying you’re confident and unapologetic!” Ashley’s voice continues to prattle from the phone, though Layla’s finding it hard to pay attention with the way Homelander’s taking a fistful of her hair, bowing her back, kissing her hungrily. “That you’re not afraid to be yourself!”

He outright moans against her lips. She breaks away from him with a gasp, hand pressed against her chest. “Should I give you a moment alone with Ashley?” She asks breathlessly, only half-joking. The man is absolutely alight against her, heat radiating in his touches. The news trips an alarm bell somewhere in the back of Layla’s mind, but she’s struggling to process it in the wake of his voraciousness.

“Christ, no,” he says. The phone hits the ground with a clatter, Ashley’s confused voice continuing distantly on the line. He cups both sides of Layla’s face and pulls her back in, exhaling a pleased little growl against her lips. “Did you hear? They love me. They fucking love me,” he says between kisses, breathless and downright giddy.

Drawing back, he strokes her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, his smile broad, eyes shining with relief, joy, and something Layla can’t quite place, though it causes a small knot to form in her gut.

“They want me to be myself.”

#this chapter took everything out of me but it's here and i hope to god it doesn't take this long for the next chap #bc i already have portions written and i know where it's all going!!! #blood sweat and tears in this fic fr lmao #homelander x oc #homelander x original character #homelander fanfiction #eat your ego #my writing

[thevanityofthefox]

✨Glam Cat✨

Glam Cat is my OC from The Boys series (she is a big parody of Catwoman and Black Cat lol)

She has retractable nails and night vision, her reflexes are greatly improved. Her tail is fake, it is a stuffed tail that is attached to the suit with a himan (It is not easy to remove in one fell swoop but it is not impossible to be able to remove it if it causes problems during the action). Her tail has glitter so it shines a lot!

She does not control her night vision, it simply happens as soon as the lights go out, which causes her headaches and sometimes insomnia

Her nails are hard as diamond, they are almost impossible to break, except for someone with the strength of Homelander, he could break them without problem.

She is very agile and very flexible (you know, like a cat and all that)

#the boys #the boys series #the boys amazon #the boys fanart #the boys oc #original character #homelander #homelander x oc #digital art #art #artists on tumblr #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven: Part 4

Part 1 2 3

Homelander x Psychiatrist!AFAB!Reader Content⚠️: This does have smut. Masturbation, mentions of oral sex, light fingering, hand job, praise kink, very light implications of edging, penis in vagina.

Your meetings with Homelander continue as normal. You've made it clear that if he doesn't comply with your boundaries, he will be transferred to a new psychiatrist, and he has done well to stay within the professional boundaries.

"Tell me about how you grew up, Doctor," Homelander says. He is looking out of your office window with his hands behind his back.

"I'm not able to discuss that. Boundaries, remember?" you say sternly to avoid leading him on. He scoffs, irritated.

"It's always these fucking boundaries. Always with the red tape with you. I'm the strongest supe in the world; there aren't any boundaries I can't break or cross." That gives you an idea of what mood he is in. Did Stan put him in his place, or was it Madelyn this time? Either way, he always brings up that he's the strongest supe out there and that he can do what he wants when one of those two has upset him.

"Is something specific bothering you today?" you ask, ignoring his comment.

"Maeve broke up with me. Madelyn is cooking up some story for the public." He takes a sharp breath in. "Maeve didn't like that I was sleeping with other women, but she wasn't giving me what I needed. Sure, we had sex, but neither of us was interested in it. And for the past months, you've let me be me when no one else will." He stutters a few times during his speech. He turns to look at you. Homelander expects you to say something.

"Did Maeve say why she broke it off? You two were together for a while," you ask, not wanting to encourage poor habits.

"I said we weren't interested in the sex we were having. I'm a man; I have needs," he plainly says, as if the fact he was cheating is normal and okay. Most people would assume Homelander is shallow for cheating, but it's clear there's more to it. Unfortunately, sex isn't something you could ask Homelander about because that could give him the wrong impression.

"I would say most potential romantic partners wouldn't be too happy about your needs being fulfilled by other people," you tell him to let him know you're condemning his unfaithful behavior.

He scoffs. "Please, any woman would be lucky to have me." Homelander stares at you for a second. He's studying you; maybe he's x-raying you or trying to notice any subtle changes.

"Problem?" you question.

"No-no. I just… was thinking." Homelander can't tell you he wants to crash his lips onto yours. He can't say that he wants to feel up your breasts and get you out of that blouse you wear all the time. He can't say that he wants to pull you close and then fuck you on your desk. He knows he would cum fast being inside you for the first time, but Homelander also knows you'd be just as satisfied, if not more. Homelander can't tell you that your arousal smells so strong to him he can practically taste it.

Homelander suddenly leaves. He has to get away from you. He flies high into the sky, passing the area where a plane would be flying. In the sky, he feels alone. Homelander breathes in. He wonders if you'd ever trust him to bring you this high where only true gods can be. Of course, Homelander would make sure you're safe. He would take you high enough that the thin air was a thrill for you. He slides his pants around his thighs. Not enough for them to fall off, but enough for him to have access to his dick that's been hard since you condemned him for cheating on Maeve. You could be so stern but such a fucking tease.

Homelander begins to stroke himself. He starts slow, making sure his hand isn't wrapped too tightly. You're in his mind right now; he knows you'd be so slow with your strokes. You'd tell him how good he was doing the longer he could keep it together. Homelander strokes faster. He has no control to keep going slow, but you would. Your soft touches and soft praises would drive him crazy; they would drive him over the edge.

He says your name; he sounds like he's begging. "Please," he says with an almost pained expression. Homelander needs you, but his hand will have to do for now. The stimulation from his hand and the way you plague his mind are too much, and his cum shoots into the sky.

Homelander feels a lot of different emotions upon his release. You should be fucking begging him to even glance at you. He feels somewhat pathetic being so under your thumb. He feels fucking pissed because the semen he just shot so high in the sky should have been on your breasts, face, or somewhere inside you, not falling worthlessly to the earth. You should be the one begging for his attention the way he begged you to let him cum in his fantasy.

Homelander flies back to his penthouse. He feels more determined than ever to have you in all the ways he wants you. Maeve is no longer holding him back from a real relationship, and Madelyn wouldn't be upset because she seems to like you. After his abrupt exit, Homelander doesn't visit you for any more appointments that week.

The following week arrives, and you have yet to see Homelander anywhere. You're leaving a session with another client when you walk into your lobby and see the prettiest bouquet of your favorite flowers. A card with your name proudly sticks out. Your receptionist is gone, and the lobby is empty.

"Your receptionist almost refused to tell me what your favorite flowers were. I guess she wasn't willing to die to keep your secret," Homelander says, sounding playful, walking out of the men's restroom and effectively startling you. "I just heard that little heart of yours jump."

"Homelander, this is crossing a boundary," you say, trying to sound stern, but the shakiness of your voice tells Homelander that you're nervous.

"Enough with the fucking boundaries. I'm tired of being a fucking patient and having to throw a tantrum every time I want you to look at me. I'm not your patient anymore. I dropped you. Now, we can have what we have both been wanting." He circles you like you're his prey. "Your receptionist is out for the day. I told her you canceled your other appointments so that I could have my time with you. And then I had her send out that automated email to those psychos you insist on surrounding yourself with." He seems proud of himself, as if he's accomplished something huge, and now you cannot deny him what he wants.

"What makes you think I'm even interested in you?" you ask him with a glare.

"Don't be like that. Even right now, I can smell how aroused you are. If I left right now, you'd probably scamper home and immediately spend the night with that pink vibrator in between your legs." Homelander has such a love-hate relationship with that thing. He's watched you use it a lot, and you're moaning his name most of the time, but that toy isn't him, so he hates it.

You blush, but not in an attractive way, either. Your whole face heats up. "How do you know about that?" you ask, exasperated.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that you want me to fuck you. Tell me that you're not attracted to me. Tell me that you wouldn't be opposed to me fucking you in your office right now. Say you don't, and I'll leave you alone about it." Homelander has no intention of leaving you alone, no matter your response.

You stay quiet, avoiding his gaze. You suddenly walk into your office. He follows. "God, you're such an ass!" you tell him. Homelander presses himself against you and presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss. He's desperate, and that makes it hard to go slow. You reciprocate and match the desperation. He doesn't taste like anything, which is a testament to how clean Homelander likes to be in his everyday life. You, on the other hand, are sweet. His hand quickly finds your breasts as if you'd decided to take them away. Homelander breaks the kiss.

"Your blouse is in the way. So is your bra." He quickly removes your top clothing that had become a hindrance. His hands are nimble, but the cold leather of his gloves is ruining the moment.

"Can you take off your gloves?" you ask. Homelander doesn't hesitate to lose them, and his bare hands are now able to feel the warmth of your breasts. Your nipples are pointed. That's a good sign. He dips his head, sucking and kissing anywhere his lips can land on your breasts. One of his hands finds its way to rest on your hand.

"I'm ready for you," you tell him breathlessly. Your cunt is soaked from the reaction Homelander is giving.

"You're delicious. I've been desperate to fuck you since I walked into your office." He drops his pants but pointedly leaves the top half of his super suit on. He trusts you, but he still isn't comfortable showing you the parts of him that he's most embarrassed about. He pulls your skirt and panties off and immediately rubs slow circles around your clit. He watches your face, trying to decipher if you're enjoying that movement.

"I like that. Keep going. You're doing so well," you encourage Homelander. He guides your hand to his hard cock, and just like he imagined, your strokes are slow. He could cum in your hand so easily if you would just go a little faster.

Before either of you can cum, he flips you over and shoves you down into the desk. Homelander tries to be gentle, but he's so eager to be inside you. You spread your legs a little more to give him better access. He begins thrusting in and out of your wet cunt.

"You feel so good. It feels better than I imagined," Homelander groans out, enjoying the feeling of your body being wrapped around his. His hands explore your bare back. His thrusts begin to become more hasty and desperate.

"I can feel that you're close," you tell him breathily. You can't see it, but Homelander's face turns red. He is embarrassed that you haven't come yet, and he's almost at the edge of his orgasm.

Homelander throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to wait." He wants to tell you that you feel that good and that even if he does finish before you, he will make sure you reach the same heights of pleasure.

"It's okay, you're doing well." You reach around to find his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Homelander leans down and pulls you up so your back is pressed into his chest. He wants to be touching you as much as possible while he cums. Homelander's face finds the crook of your neck. He breathes in your smell. He wants to remember it forever, the smell of your natural scent mixed with his scent and both your arousal and his. Homelander hugs you tightly from behind, and with a sharp breath in and a following moan that's muffled by your skin, he's finished inside of you.

Homelander doesn't move for a moment. He wants to stay like this, to savor you in case you disappear as you had done so many times before in his intimate moments alone.

Homelander lets go of you and pulls out. You turn around and notice the tears streaking his face. He's not crying and doesn't seem to notice the tears. "Wow, that was intense," you tell him, sensing that it would be better not to point out the tear gloss on his cheeks.

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet, little lady," he says, trying to sound confident. You wonder if that "little lady" bit is his attempt to remind himself and you that he's in charge. Before you can bring it up, Homelander pushes you back up on the desk, and his head is dipping between your legs.

He certainly was not done with you. Homelander made sure that you enjoyed yourself in that office, and as you leave your office, you wonder what this means for your relationship. This wasn't a regular hookup. It couldn't be after the visceral reaction Homelander had during his first orgasm when he so desperately clung to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Homelander was already waiting at your apartment. He was going to show you the other benefits of his affection.

Tag List: @randomstuffthatdontmakesense @thevanityofthefox @z3r0art

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys fanfic #fem!reader #psychiatrist x character #female reader #reader x character #homelander smut #this is my first time writing actual smut #afab reader #homelander fanfiction #reader x homelander #i forgot i originally had a gender neutral reader #homelander x psychiatrist #homelander x you

[eclecticqueennerd]

Homelander as a Girl Dad

Trigger warning: DV, parental alienation, Homelander being Homelander.

Prompt: Anonymous asked: I don't know if someone already requested Homelander as a girl dad. But could I request him to have a supe daughter who is really close to him and loves him and yet also hates, fears him and can’t wait for the world to be rid of him.

This work is written as first a headcanon then transitions into a story. Enjoy!

You were Homelander's personal assistant and from the moment Ashley hired you, Homelander was infatuated. He would drop not-so-subtle hints of his affection and shower you with gifts and experiences you never thought you’d get. He’d take you to movie premiers and had you meet the members of the Seven. He would give you any and all dresses, shoes, and accessories you’d want. You were always attracted to Homelander; to his charm, his heroism, and his good looks. So, when you realized that the affections were mutual and he told you to call him John, you felt like the luckiest girl on earth.

When the relationship moved towards a physical one, John was as gentle as he could be with you. There were a few times when you had to remind him that you were just a normal person and not to be so rough. John would often say he’d want a family with you and that having a child would be the greatest gift anyone could ever give him. When you became pregnant and told John, both of your worlds were turned upside down. For better or worse, well it depends on your perspective.

You were okay with being in the public eye when working as Homelander’s personal assistant, and even more adjusted to it when the two of you started dating. Once the world heard that the two of you were expecting, the paparazzi increased tenfold. You were not able to go anywhere without paparazzi taking pictures and asking questions. One time the crowd of photographers was so dense, that a paparazzi accidentally bumped your baby belly too hard and made you stumble over in pain. Once that story went public, you were not allowed to leave John’s penthouse without him accompanying you. There were rumors that Homelander ‘took care’ of the photographer, but you chose to not believe them. Your sweet and charming John wasn’t capable of something so awful.

John is a busy man, attending meetings, social events, and the occasional hero work. You spent the majority of your days in the penthouse, there were people cooking for you and waiting on you hand and foot. You grew lonely, most of the people there either working in their positions to get a paycheck or out of fear, not speaking to you often. Whenever John came home, you’d run to him and embrace him, him being your only source of interaction. You’d ask him how his day went, sometimes he’d tell you, other times, he’d ask how the baby was.

When you gave birth, John was a little disappointed that it was a girl. You would reassure him that girls can do whatever boys can and that sometimes a father-daughter bond is stronger. John perked up after hearing that. In the beginning, John would be put off by the care of having an infant. They stink, they’re loud, messy and so goddamn needy. He did like the perk of you breastfeeding, it was always incorporated into sexy times with him. You thought of it as an undiscovered kink of his.

When your daughter was older, around toddler age, that’s when John started to take more interest in being a father figure. He’d teach Callie, your daughter, how to walk, how to use the potty, how to read. In the beginning, you were fine with it, it gave you a chance to take some time for yourself and watch the two of them bond. As time went on, you noticed that John would start to leave you out of the conversation and bonding experience as a family.

As time went on, John pushed you out more and more when interacting with Callie. He’d be the one taking care of her daily needs, ignoring you when you’d ask for updates on how she was doing in school, how her doctor’s visit went, and other important information. When you spoke to John about how you were feeling left out, he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before. Hatred, malice, disdain. John wanted to be the sole caregiver to Callie. There were times that he’d shut you away in a room all by yourself, making you a prisoner in your own home. There were times when John would make the move to smack or attempt to hit you, but he’d always stop himself. After a while, he revoked your privilege of calling him John, you now had to call him Homelander.

You’d ask Homelander what went wrong in the relationship for him to treat you this way, but your inquiry was met with hostility. You began to contemplate leaving the penthouse whenever the two of them left for an outing. You know Homelander would never hurt Callie, he adores her. So, one day, you left…

“I’m home dad!” Callie said as she threw her schoolbag on the floor and walked into the kitchen to grab a snack. It’s been a few years since her mother left and she was told by her father that it was because her mother didn’t love her anymore. Callie was hurt by what her father told her, but she had no reason not to believe him.

“Hey sport, how are you today?” Homelander said as he threw his muscled arms around Callie. Callie grimaced but accepted the hug. Homelander noticed the change in her mood, he pulled himself away from her and asked,

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh, don’t lie to me missy. Tell me, what’s up?” Callie looks around the room, wanting to look at anything besides her father.

“I… uh… don’t think that you can help me with this. It’s something moms usually talk about.”

“Of course, I can help you, Callie. You can trust me with anything.” A few moments of silence and then Callie said,

“I got my period today.” Homelander blinked at Callie. Damn… I don’t know how to help her with that he thought. Homelander grabbed Callies’ hand and the two of them went to the entrance of the penthouse.

“Where are we going?”

“I have someone we’re going to talk to.” The two of them appeared in front of Ashleys office. Homelander opens the door, and a voice rang thru the large room,

“What the fuck have I told you about knocking Ashley?” Homelander and Callie came through the threshold. Ashleys demeanor went from hardened to frightened the moment she laid eyes on the man. Callie noticed this was a common theme with anyone that came across her father.

“Homelander, Callie. H-how can I help you?” Ashley said as her hand flew up into her red hair. Homelander sat Callie down on the sofa in the lounge area and went to mute the TV that was displaying the news.

“Callie here is now a woman. She needs to know some helpful tips about periods.” Callie turned to her dad and gave him a look that can be conveyed as ‘what the fuck?’ Homelander just shrugged as Ashley cleared her throat. Ashley walked from behind her desk to sit herself onto the armchair to the left of Callie. Ashley let out a nervous chuckle, looking at Homelander before she spoke,

“We’ll, as you know, periods are a normal thing for women…” Ashley looks around the room, trying to find inspiration in what she’s telling Callie. “Periods are a beautiful and natural thing for a young woman to have! They mean that—Oh my god!” Ashleys attention went to the TV screen, as did the other two. Displayed was a picture of a tall, bearded man in a trench coat and next to him, was you. The caption on the picture stated, “SUSPECTS WANTED FOR THE DEATH OF TRANSLUCENT” Ashley began stuttering, mumbling, and furiously twisting her hair in her fingers. Callie stood up and walked towards the TV, closely inspecting the picture of you in your disguise. Homelander approached the TV and promptly turned it off.

“Okay that’s enough for today. I think this kiddo has some homework to do dontcha bud?” Homelander grabs Callies hand and drags her out of Ashleys office. A million thoughts ran through Callies mind. ‘Why would mom join the bad guys? Why did she kill Translucent? Why did she leave me?’ Homelander picked up on the hurt on Callies face and said,

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll get it all taken care of.” Homelander took Callie back to the penthouse and said that he needed to step out for business and that she could order a pizza for dinner. When gone, Callie gathered her key fob and left the penthouse in search of you.

*

It had been a few hours looking in the area you’d been photographed, but Callie had finally found you in the subway, tucked away in a corner waiting for the train to arrive. She took in your appearance; sunglasses, ballcap and a leather jacket with the lapels pulled up to hide your face. Callie approached you slowly,

“Hey mom.” You spun to face her, freezing at the young girl standing before you. It’s been years since you’d seen Callie, at least in person. You’d seen her on TV many times, making appearances with your ex. She was a perfect mix of both you and Homelander.

“Callie. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you on TV.”

“It’s not safe for you to be here honey.”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that after how you left us. After how you left me!” Callie began raising her voice, emotions starting to grow inside her. You approached her slowly after noting the fists Callie was making and said,

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” A tear ran down Callies cheek. You desperately wanted to reach out and wipe it away, you however treated her like she was a frightened animal, careful with your movements.

“Why did you leave?” You never wanted to answer that question, wanting Homelander to have that special bond between father and daughter untarnished. Before you could open your mouth, you heard the train approach, looking in its direction, you were torn. Now was your chance to escape, but you also wanted to set things straight with your daughter.

“Callie… I-”

“Trains ‘ere.” The man that was with you earlier on the TV broadcast appeared next to you, voice heavy with a cockney accent. Callie looked at both you and the tall man, named Billy Butcher. Callie had heard her father speak of him from time to time and how he was the bane of his existence. Once the train stopped, you made the difficult decision to part ways with Callie, you didn’t want her getting caught up in all your bullshit. Homelander will keep her safe, he would never let anything happen to her. As you found your seat on the train, Callie sat down next to you.

“Callie!”

“You never answered my question, why did you leave?” Looking between Callie and the subway train floor, you told her everything. How Homelander was the nicest man you’d ever met, and he slowly showed himself to be a monster. You told her of the domestic abuse and the times that he would alienate you from being a mother to Callie.

“I love you so much Callie. I never wanted to leave you, but I couldn’t stay with your father. I knew he would never lay a finger on you, you’re all he’s ever wanted.” Callie’s world was rocked. Her whole life she’d heard from her father that she wasn’t loved by you, that the only reason why you wanted to be with her Homelander was because of fame and fortune.

The train rolled to a stop a few stations from when the three of them went on. As you got off the train, Callie followed you and Butcher. Callie noticed the whispers between you and Butcher, you look back at her.

“Callie you can’t come with us.”

“I’ve finally found you after all these years and now you want to push me away?! It’s not fair!” Callie clenched her fist and punched a brick pillar, knocking the blocks loose. Callie’s face widens in shock, she’s never done that before. She didn’t even know she had the strength.

“Callie, what we do, is too dangerous for you. I’ll give you my number so we can text but know that I can’t always reply. Butcher, go ahead to the hideout, I’ll take Callie back home.” You and Callie catch a train ride to a subway stop just a block from Vought tower. On the train, you two talk about school and what her favorite subjects are, its art, what flavor ice cream she likes, it’s the same as yours, and Callie asked you what to do when it came to periods.

“It’s important to keep yourself clean, shower at least once a day. There may be times when you will have a stain, don’t worry. This happens to all of us at some point. If it happens at school and it’s on your pants, wear a sweatshirt around your waist if you can. Also, don’t wear white pants if you can help it.” Callie absorbed as much information you had to give about the subject, appreciative that you’re willing to talk about such a sensitive topic. Callie was beginning to question her father’s animosity towards you, you were so warm and welcoming and kind, the opposite of his descriptors was for you. Finally reaching your destination and standing outside of the tower, you give Callie a quick hug.

“Text me anytime but please, don’t tell your father about this. I don’t know when I can see you again, but if this plan pulls through then it may be sooner than later.” Callie nodded her head and went inside the building and into the elevator. Callie stepped into the penthouse and saw a worried Homelander standing next to the kitchen island.

“And where were you?” Homelanders voice low, eyes narrow, almost like he knew what she was up to, he just waiting for her to confess. Callie met his menacing glare with one of her own, and replied,

“Out.” She then left to go into her room, revulsion filling her thoughts about her father. Homelander the world's greatest and strongest superhero, was a calculating cruel man who filled her head with lies in an attempt to hate her own mother. Callie hoped whatever plan her mother had up her sleeve worked.

taglist: @marvelspn-bishes @lazygrungekid @wiiwiiwii666 @z3r0art@jameshetfieldscumdump@sleepyqueerenergy@citrys@chungledown-bimothee@otherworldlycraft@jensensnackles69 @star-ligh7 @memoune0987 @archiveofthalience @pibetaphi2000 @amberembers @itsyellow @need-a-life-or-grass @lover1307 @z3tabyte @katherine-ann1 @stankyleg05 @lustendreams @psychoticbirb

#the boys #billy butcher #the boys amazon #antony starr #homelander x reader #homelander #the boys series #the boys tv #original character #reader insert #female reader

[olliveolly]

Hello people 👋🏼

I didn’t know what to draw, and after rustling around a bit I found a couple of very old but good pieces of art that were worth redrawing.

I often think that the ideal way to add some humanity to Homelander's character would be to take him away from Vought (like kick out for low ratings) and place him in a situation where he desperately needed to rely on other people for support, and he would have people who would support him, and he would also support them.

Hope you enjoy ❤️

#homelander #fanart #the boys series #alternate universe #sketch #homelander x oc #homelander x reader #homelander x original female character #the boys #oc x canon

[bittersweetarts]

How to Disappear - Chapter 1

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x OC

Word count: 2389 words

Summary: Eden Reid can't help her curiosity, and Soldier Boy can't help but take advantage of that curiosity.

WARNINGS: Some depiction of violence, misogyny, and the usual TW for it being The Boys (Amazon)

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - AO3 Page

Chapter 1: An Act of Kindness

Eden Reid was at the start of her daily fucking crack ass of the dawn morning jog across Laurance Harbor Beach, sandy-brown hair up in a high pony, dressed in her usual bland sweats and black running shoes, when she came across him, unconscious along the shoreline, the waves repeatedly caressing him, gently, before retreating.

As she stared at him, the young woman noticed his tattered costume and the bruising littered on his face and skin, and that he did not appear to be breathing. For a moment, Eden contemplated what to do, because she knew that she couldn’t take him to any emergency room or call 911.

Because she knew exactly who he was.

Of course, she knew exactly who he fucking was, pretty much most of the world knew who exactly he fucking was.

He was Soldier Boy, the old leader of Payback, fought in all those important wars in the last century, America’s first and greatest Supe, a man who was supposed to be dead and yet somehow was now alive, lying on the beach in front of her.

And apparently now a Super-Terrorist, according to the news outlets, who for the past week have only been reporting on the attack on the Seven Tower, and how Queen Maeve had successfully saved the country with her sacrificial takedown of Soviet-brainwashed Soldier Boy; his defeat was supposed to be symbolic of a new age for freedom and safety for the masses.

Unlike most of the people Eden knew though, she wasn’t blinded by the lies fed to the masses on a silver spoon by the media and corporations like Vought International.

Eden knew, Eden knew all too well that Supes were nothing but selfish bastards at best, and that none of them give a single fuck about saving others. Eden knew that the mainstream media hyperinflated the heroism of ‘heroes’, and failed to report the deaths of normal civilians, who were nothing more than simply collateral damage. And Eden knew that if she was told that unconscious man lying before her was nothing but a villain, then that was not the full story.

And she knew this all this because if her abilities were not so weak, she would have been just another Supe on Vought or some other fuck’s payroll, spouting the exact same bullshit.

But no, her ability of super strength was, ironically, too weak to even be considered as a D-list Supe, despite her family’s dreams for her, and now in her mid-twenties, she wastes her days away as a receptionist at a private clinic in East Brunswick. So much for the glamorous life of the ‘super-abled’.

However, her abilities were not weak enough apparently to carry the heavy ass man before her. Although he did not appear much taller than she was, he was at least twice her size, and as she lifted him up into her arms, Eden gave a silent prayer, hoping that she wouldn’t see a single living soul as she carried the unconscious vigilante to her car, and that the oversized grey zip that she draped over him concealed his appearance well enough.

What the fuck was is my problem? Eden thought as she dropped Soldier Boy into the trunk of Mazda, a black SUV she bought years ago when she moved out of her childhood home.

Eden didn’t need this shit. It’s been years since she dropped out of Godolkin and left behind the world of fucked up Supes and drugs, and she was at peace living in solitude at her cabin by Norvin Green Forest. She didn’t need to get herself involved in dangerous shit. So why had she gotten herself involved by kidnapping the unconscious man who was lying in the trunk of her vehicle?

Eden couldn’t explain it. To call it a curiosity would be an understatement; it was more like a compulsion. She had acted thoughtlessly, as though she were possessed by something, and now, on her half hour drive back to her home in the woods, Eden began to regret what she had done.

Days passed and life continued as normal for Eden. She kept her unconscious house guest in a spare bedroom of her small cabin, and went to her 9 to 5 throughout the work week as usual.

In a way, Eden hoped that if Soldier Boy woke up in her home, he would simply leave, and that she would not have to meet him or explain anything. But every evening, following her commute, Eden was greeted by her dark home, and when checking on her guest, she found him unconscious, but still alive and in her spare bed.

Eden often thought about whether she should call the cops or to dump the unconscious Supe back at the beach (or literally anywhere else). But she did not do that, because she knew that by this point, it would simply make her a walking target either for Vought or the government, and really, it was a miracle that she had not been caught transporting him to her place from the beach. For all she knew though, some government entity or Vought was spying on her this very minute.

So instead, the young woman resigned herself to the guest bedroom, where she left Soldier Boy to lay on the queen-sized bed, most of its real estate which he occupied. As he lay there motionless, Eden would periodically cleanse his face and exposed skin with a damp wash cloth (not knowing what else to do that would help him), before covering him with a light blanket. For the rest of the night, Eden would sit on the cream armchair by him, mindlessly watching the news on the small TV set in the room, on low volume, while thinking about anything and everything.

It's not that Eden did not have anything else to do, or that she had no one. Eden prefers to consider her lifestyle as a self-imposed exile, because she knew that she could not rely on anyone. Disconnecting herself from the world, being in nature, was healing to her, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t get herself to trust anyone, not anymore.

And so, Eden spent several weeks like this, working during the day, going on her daily runs (though now in the forest rather than the beach), and barely sleeping at night, passively watching the news and her unconscious guest, who’s bruising slowly faded away. Soldier Boy looked exactly as he did in his old film, Red Thunder, Eden noticed, and had not aged in the slightest, which bewildered her.

But despite being the vision of health, Soldier Boy did not wake, and Eden did not know what to do.

More often than Eden would like to admit, Eden watched Soldier Boy, observing his long lashes and the way his now steady breathing never wavered – not even when Eden would wipe a damp wash cloth across his body – and she noticed how quickly his stubble grew into a fuller beard, but never to the point of the point of overgrowth, despite the lack of grooming.

Eden also noticed how humorous it was that practically the only topic on the news channels was Soldier Boy himself, and how it was reported that he was not a Super-Terrorist anymore, but an odd dichotomy of hero and victim to Soviet radicalization. And so, the narrative shifted, not that she believed it to be the full truth. Yet something Eden knew to be true was not on any news channel or online forum: Soldier Boy was not dead but alive, albeit unconscious in some cabin hidden away in the mountains.

Or rather that was the truth, until Soldier Boy regained consciousness.

It happened so quickly, and Eden was not entirely awake to even process exactly what happened.

One moment, Eden was drifting into sleep, in her usual seat on the armchair, with the lamp lights dim, the moonlight from the window behind filtering into the room, and the TV white noise drowning out the silence. The next moment, Eden found herself gasping for breath, suffocating, as two strong hands wrapped around her throat, pinning her to the armchair.

Eyes still half-asleep but now tearful, Eden met the vicious stare of her now-awakened guest, and suddenly, she came to her senses. Mustering up all her strength, Eden pushed against his chest, the supe-strength of which took her attacker by slight surprise. His hold on her throat relaxed slightly, and Eden quickly grabbed his wrists to keep his grip loose.

“Let me go –” Eden choked out, trying to breath.

As though confused, Soldier Boy tilted his head, but his expression remained in its remorselessly neutral expression. Fear shot through her veins when Eden realized that her strength did not affect him but rather spiked the smallest amount of curiosity.

“I was just trying to help you.” Eden sputtered out incoherently as she felt the grip began to tighten again. Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes at this, and then right on cue, something else caught his attention.

The tiny TV in the room switched to midnight rerun of The Cameron Coleman Hour on the Vought News Network, and broadcast invaded the room, with the image of Soldier Boy plastered over the screen.

“Good evening everybody, welcome back …” Cameron Coleman’s voice echoed throughout the room.

As it did, Soldier Boy loosened his grip on Eden’s throat, letting her go. Eden’s hand shot up to her neck, strands of her sandy-brown hair falling to her face as she gasped for more air. Her skin felt sore, and she knew that if she were a normal person, she would have been dead by now, at the very least from a broken neck.

“… and please welcome our guest of the evening, Defense Secretary Chris Barney.” The cheering track played on TV bounced off the walls in the guest room, while the camera panned from Cameron Coleman onto a burgeoned man his early-thirties, already balding, and Soldier Boy’s attention was entirely captivated by what was on TV.

“Mr. Secretary, thank you so much for joining us.” Chris Barney, in his mechanical voice, thanked his interviewer as well, and Eden, with her hands on her tender neck, watched as Soldier Boy was entirely captivated by the TV interview.

“I want to kick off by asking you to directly respond to the idea that Soldier Boy and this new age of Super-Terrorism, which involves Supes living in our country, should be the Pentagon and American public’s top concern.”

“See Cameron, I am not going to beat around the bush. Soldier Boy’s attack in Manhattan is an isolated incident, and the FBSA has taken great strides in tackling this matter, and in the mere weeks past, there is already a significant reduction in the number of violent incidences within the public, both super-abled and not. So to answer your question, no it is not a concern for both the Pentagon and America, especially as Soldier Boy is an isolated incident, and dead at that.”

Chris Barney’s voice bounced off the walls, and as it sounded off, and he answered follow up questions relating to terror attacks, which Soldier Boy ignored, as he began to speak over him, his voice both low but loud, full of contempt.

“So that’s it, huh – I’m dead. I’m fucking dead to the American people. Again.”

Eden did not know what to say, and took a step back, the back of her legs now pressed to the wooden side table by the bed.

“I fought for this country. I fucking gave up my life for this fucked up country, and what do I get in return? Fucking nothing.”

As he spoke, spitting out each syllable, Eden noticed how Soldier Boy clinched his fists tightly, and wondered whether he would just destroy her home, or kill her as well. She remained silent, not daring to even breath too loudly as though that would set him off. But Eden’s heart was beating at a million miles per minute, and she was sure that Soldier Boy could hear it.

Reminded of her presence, Soldier Boy turned around and glanced over Eden, as though he were a predator contemplating whether his prey was worthy of slaughter. His deliberation lasted only a few moments. With only two tall strides, Soldier Boy, in his tattered costume, came face-to-face with the young woman stood before him, brushing away a thick strand that had fallen in front of her eyes.

“What’s your name doll?”

Soldier Boy’s voice was deep, and though he did not swear or say anything malignant, Eden was still frightened, but willed herself to not shake in her fuzzy slippers.

“Eden,” Eden responded quietly, but Soldier Boy’s furrowed eyebrows made her paranoid that he either hadn’t heard her, or that she hadn’t actually said anything.

“Eden Reid, um, Sir.” Eden said once again, only slightly more audibly, while looking to the ground, so as to avoid his burning stare. At this, Soldier Boy chuckled and gently took push a hand to her chin, tilting her face upwards, making her look back at him again.

“Well, aren’t you sweet, Miss Reid.” Soldier Boy spoke, the side of his mouth tilting upwards. Inching his face closer, he continued speaking, his breath blowing over Eden’s face. “Have you got any pills, sweetheart?”

Eden shook her head slowly, now shaking slightly and regretting her personal stance on being drug-free.

“Weed?”

Eden shook her head again, and she felt her heart speed up anymore. At this, Soldier Boy turned away to let out a frustrated sigh, before facing her again.

“A good girl. Surely you can be resourceful and find something, doll. Age of feminism and all.”

Soldier Boy’s tone was condescending, but thankfully, Eden knew that her co-worker, Matt, had an affinity for her and substance abuse, so she might be able to score something from him. Pressing her lips together, Eden nodded, which made Soldier Boy smile. Letting go of her chi, Soldier Boy turned around and sat on the armchair to his right, paying attention to the TV again, which was still playing the Cameron Coleman interview rerun.

“Well then, chop-chop sweetheart. And afterwards, you can tell me where the fuck I am and why the fuck I’m here with you.”

Author's Note: This is an AU story where rather than getting captured, Soldier Boy/Ben ends up projecting himself into the Hudson River. I am not a Geography or Physics major, so none of this actually makes sense or is realistic.

– Chapter 2

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #soldier boy #soldier boy ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy x original character #soldier boy fanfiction #fanfiction #imagin #jensen ackles #fanfic #you imagine #homelander #starlight #queenmaeve #billy butcher #hughie #amazonprime #amazonprimevideo

[whereismymindnow]

I'd Kill To Be Closer

I wrote this in September 2020. I thought you may like it. :)

Summary: Madelyn plants a seed in Homelander's head. Homelander takes what he wants. Harper (The Siren) puts up a weak fight, before submitting to her desires.

Characters: Homelander x Original Female Character

Warning(s): Smut. Violence. Slight dubcon.

---

It wasn’t the first time she had thought about it.

Madelyn had noticed the not so subtle glares towards her bouncing baby boy.

The tantrums when she did not give him the attention he craved.

The need to put his foot down each time she put Teddy first or gave him a direct order.

Homelander was becoming erratic, and she was getting tired of handling the fallout when he did not get his own way. She supposed he wasn’t completely at fault. Touch deprivation and emotional neglect had made him this way.

However, that did not mean she would allow it to continue. She needed to regain control of the situation before he became too unruly. She’d noticed how he’d started to ask more questions and try to catch her out in any little half-truths she told. He was starting to distrust her the more she put her attention on her son and Vought and less on him.

So when she saw the way his eyes locked on to the girl; how his hands clenched into fists when she laughed at A-Train’s joke; how a spark of red almost broke free as he glared at the way she danced close with one of the management lackeys; she knew she needed to act upon it. Homelander needed someone he could put all of his undivided attention on, whether they wanted it or not. He needed someone that he could touch without worrying they’d break. He needed someone that would relieve the tension that was constantly building within his body. He needed her.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Madelyn noticed how he flinched as his attention broke from the girl and on to her. “Her name is Harper, but she is called The Siren by the press.” Even Madelyn felt the soft hum that came from her body, her raw attractive energy commanding attention from the room.

“I hadn’t really noticed her.” Homelander feigned ignorance and scanned the venue to avoid Madelyn’s smug smile. He made a point of clearing his throat much to her amusement.

“She is an… interesting subject. I have been told that her ability is that of mind control. She uses her voice and touch to control people, hence her name. However, she isn’t without fault. She feeds from people’s energy. Without feeding, she loses a lot of her super-strength… becomes quite weak and pliable. Every touch she makes takes a little bit of energy to keep her ticking over nicely. It is like a feeding ground for her tonight.” Madelyn hid her smile by taking a sip of her champagne; Homelander was intrigued, his eyes gave it away. He never could hide anything from her.

Madelyn couldn’t have planned it any better. Her touch starved supe had turned his attention on to someone that feeds off physical contact. She needs touch to survive, and Homelander had plenty of needs involving the soft press of skin to his own.

“Why are you telling me this, Madelyn?” He looked down at the woman with a wrinkled brow. Why was she telling him all of this? What was her plot?

“I just thought she could be a good companion for you.” She raised herself onto her tiptoes and whispered delicately in his ear. “She could give you what you want…

“Her body would sing for you… For your touch…

“You could feel everything she has to give.

“She would be solely for you.” Her fingers gently pulled at the bottom lip he had sucked in-between his teeth. “With how strong you are, I doubt she’d be able to use her pull on you; she’s just a young girl seeking someone to guide her properly. It would be perfect. Her body wouldn’t break beneath you. She would fight only a little so that she could remain fed. You would have complete control. She’d be yours. There would be no competition for her attention because she’d have no one else but you.” Madelyn swiftly took a step back.

Homelander’s pupils expanded as he looked back towards the girl that was now sipping champagne at the bar. Her dress was made out of a purple shimmering material that contrasted beautifully against her pale skin. It had full-length sleeves and clung to her top-half before loosening past her hips so that it swished against her legs as she walked. Despite the front of the dress proving full coverage of her body, from behind her entire back was on view; the material was open from the tops of her shoulders to her lower-back. He admired the spotless skin that was on show without shame. He swore that it seemed to glow beneath the lights.

“I’ve heard that silver causes her to weaken.” Madelyn threw out into the air as she strutted away, completely sure that he was thinking of nothing but the brunette across the floor.

Harper slipped from the bar and exited swiftly up the stairs. She’d felt a stare on her all night and it made her feel uneasy. She never dared to turn around to see who it was as their hot gaze almost burned holes into her back… her common sense told her exactly who it was though. She wasn’t used to this.

When eyes were on her it was because her natural radiance drew them in, the being inside of her calling out to them through her mouth or gaze. The stares she usually felt were that of desire and desperation. Idiotic humans that served nothing more than a decent meal for her, but this was different. The stare she felt upon her was starving. It was almost beastly.

“Aren’t you popular?” She glanced to the side and saw The Deep smirking at her.

“What are you talking about? I’m leaving.”

“You can try. He won’t let you get far.” She followed his eyes and watched as Homelander slowly walked up the stairs; his face blank but his eyes dark and hungry. The Siren came forward immediately; her green eyes glowing at the man that had been haunting her all night. Harper blinked and breathed deeply to pull her monster back inside before hurrying over to the elevator. She needed to leave. The elevator only dropped down a few floors before it stopped completely.

“What? Come on!” Harper angrily pressed the ground floor button to no avail. The doors slowly opened to reveal an empty corridor. Her heels clicked as she stepped out of the elevator, unwilling to be cornered in that metal box. She wasn’t dumb. She was being hunted right now, and the goosebumps that developed on her arms made her realise just how close her attacker was. She slowly carried on down the corridor, looking to her left and right revealed nothing more than offices and meeting rooms. The doors ahead of her had a green exit sign above them, but her heart told her that she would not make it that far.

SWOOSH!

Her body froze as her dress fluttered from the sudden gust of wind behind her. She released a warning growl that rumbled low in her chest as heavy footsteps approached. The touch of leather made her shudder as it gently moved down the curve of her back. Harper knew that her super-strength was no match for America’s golden boy, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. Homelander caught her elbow as she threw her arm back in an attempt to hit his face. He grinned at her, completely enthralled by the fire in her eyes. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

“Not fucking likely.” She spat out before stomping her heel into his foot and whipping her body around to face him. He staggered back a little, genuinely surprised that she had been quick enough to get a hit on him and slip from his grasp, before bursting out into laughter.

“Well, look at you! That fire.” He wagged his finger at her and raised his brow. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” He carefully pulled something from behind him and dangled them out in front of him so she could see. The way her eyes widened made him hard as a rock. The silver glinted playfully under the lights as he twirled the cuffs around his finger. “Are we going to need these?” He pursed his lips as his cool eyes stabbed into her, almost daring her to keep up the chase. “I do hope we’re going to need these.”

“Don’t you get sick of hearing your own voice?” She spat out before launching herself at his smug face. Hit after hit was blocked by him. His laughter and grin did nothing more than infuriate her further. Her shoe, however, did catch him off-guard as she quickly kicked her leg up and caught him under the chin with the sharp heel. A droplet of blood dripped down Homelander’s throat as she wrenched her leg back and backhanded him across the face. His once perfectly combed hair brushed across his forehead. Still, despite the small wound under his chin and cut in his eyebrow from her ring, his grin remained. Oh, he was going to enjoy taming his little monster.

Cocky from getting a few hits in, Harper launched herself at him once again, only this time, red leather caught her by the throat as he tutted. Homelander raised her until her feet no longer touched the ground and her eyes were level with his. The sound of leather squeezing and gasps for breath echoed through the empty space as she fought against his ironclad grip. Her legs weakly kicked back and forth as he held her away from his body to avoid further hits, despite every fibre of his being wanting to smother her completely. He licked his lips as he felt her throat contract with each gasp under his hands. He shifted his stance as he felt his desire to dominate her throb between his legs.

Harper let her body fall limp in submission when the crushing grasp around her throat became a little too much for her. She had met many men with the desire to own her. They were mostly human so it was easy to put them under her thrall and eat their life force in return for what they would have done to her. As she expected, Homelander steadily lowered her down, his grip still harsh but no longer choking. She needed to try at least once more to get away. “You don’t want to do this.” Her voice was soft as she looked deep into his eyes, her pupils contracting as she tried to take control of him. It felt like a heavy fog settling in his mind. He felt her body calling to him; her energy singing out to his. “Just walk away.” Homelander shook his head violently to rid himself of her spell and quickly threw her back. A cry of pain left her as her back crashed into the hard wall; a small crack being left behind as she hit the ground. Harper fought back the feeling of panic at how quickly he shook off her compulsion. She should have known that a supe as strong as him would be untouchable in that way. He was too strong for her to take on.

In the blink of an eye he was in front of her and crushed his hips into her so that she was trapped against the hard wall behind her. “Don’t make me hurt you.” Homelander ground out as he wrapped the silver cuffs around her wrists. Immediately she felt her stomach drop as her limbs began to weaken, her knees felt like jelly and without his body pinning her to the wall, she knew that she’d have fallen.

With one last burst of energy she dived her face forward; her usually gentle features altered to that of when she was defending herself or ready to take a bite out of her prey when she hadn’t fed for long enough. Her green eyes were glowing as a set of sharp teeth dropped from her gums. Her mouth warped into a snarl as a hiss released from the back of her throat.

“Well, I’m sure that works on some people.” His eyes immediately turned red and she felt the heavy hum fill the air as he glared down at her. “Change back. Now.” Harper, not completely stupid as she felt the literal heat from his glare, slowly allowed her features to return to normal. She slumped back against the wall breathing hard.

“What do you want from me?”

“Everything.” His bright white smile was the last thing Harper saw before he grabbed her head and crashed it back against the cold wall, knocking her out immediately.

---

It was the stinging sensation of the silver around her wrists that made Harper aware she was waking up. Her gaze was cloudy for a few moments from the blow to the head she had received. A few hard blinks sorted that out.

“Ugh.” She groaned quietly and turned her face to the side. The walls and ceiling were white, almost clinical in nature. Unlike most inhabited spaces, there was no scent here. Where was she?

That’s when she felt it.

The wet, sucking sensation that sent a jolt of unwanted pleasure down her spine and between her legs.

Harper took a deep breath before looking down to be greeted with a head of blonde hair. “Fuck!” Her attempts to buck the body off hers were halted by firm hands gripping her hips. She nearly choked on her breath as Homelander’s grin greeted her; his lips still wrapped around her nipple. He gave another hard suck that made her thighs clench around his upper body that lay between her legs. The sexual nature of her powers were a pain sometimes as right now her only urge was to keep him going, his naked skin against hers made her feel like she was on fire.

“You like that, don’t you?” He whispered as he released her reddened flesh from his mouth. His pupils were blown huge from the amount of pleasurable body contact he was getting. The usually composed supe was breathing quickly, almost panting, as he felt her warm centre against his abdomen.

“Get the fuck off me.” Harper hissed through her teeth as his fingers travelled down to between her legs.

“I don’t think you want that.” He replied whilst showing the wetness that was dripping down his fingers. He put his digits into his mouth and let out an obscene groan. “You are delicious.” His large body moved over hers so he could look into her glowing eyes. “Ssshh.” He hushed her as she began to say something. His heavy length hit her inner thigh as he settled above her, his weight being held up as he leant on his forearms.

“Get-”

“Stop talking!” His eyes flashed red as he stared down at her. “All people want to do is fucking talk. No one wants to do anything anymore. I’m sick of fucking talking.” He waited for the spark of defiance to break down in her eyes and laughed as her body slumped against the mattress. “Good. That’s better.”

A small squeak of indignation came from her mouth as he crushed his lips to hers. The kiss was full of anger and frustration; tongues clashing in a battle of the wills that Harper knew she would lose, but dammit if she hadn’t been desperate for a partner that would be able to stand against her. A sharp bite to her lip made her back arch, her hips moving against his for friction. “I’m gonna fuck the fight out of you.” Homelander hissed against her lips, one handing reaching down to push his length into her hot centre. An almost animalistic growl vibrated through Harper’s chest as she felt her core stretch to accept the invasion. Fuck, she needed this.

“Give it your best shot.” She caught his lips in another venomous kiss of hatred and anger; this time she took control and lashed out at his tongue with her own. A metallic taste filled her mouth as he ripped into her bottom lip with his teeth as he sank into her completely. His body hummed with satisfaction as he became overcome with the sensations, hips moving back and forth at a rapid pace as he fucked her into submission. The mattress creaked as he repeatedly thrust into her pussy. A grin grew on his face as he used one hand on her chest to hold her down, watching as her hands clenched into fists where they were cuffed to the headboard. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist to try and hold onto something that would keep her grounded and stop her from hitting the top of the bed.

“Don’t hold back.” Homelander grabbed her legs and rested them over his shoulders, her body bent like a pretzel causing him to shout in pleasure as the angle made him hit deeper. Harper couldn’t help but moan as he hit places that made her body sing.

“Come on, Homelander. You can do better, or are you too busy pretending I’m Madelyn.” His eyes glared down into hers as she taunted him, The Siren wanted more. “Who am I kidding? She probably never let you on top. She’s too busy controlling you.” His fist hit her jaw hard as he carried on thrusting like a beast. Harper laughed it off and spat the blood out that filled her mouth; she’d be healed within minutes anyway. “That’s it.” She cheered him on as his hand came down across her throat, pressing hard causing her to gasp. “Yes, yes, yes.” He felt her clench around him as he choked her which spurred him on to thrust harder. If she’d been human, she’d have been broken in half by now, and he loved how her body responded to his power. “Good boy.” The Siren hissed, her features morphing into that of the predator she truly was. “Good, good boy.”

His arm snaked under her back, releasing his grip on her throat and lifting her up a few inches off the bed. His thrusts made her entire body jolt, the way her wrists were attached to the headboard caused a delicious pain that made her hiss. His hips bruised against hers, her clit hitting his hard pelvis each time making her cry out. Her toes curled as she felt her orgasm approaching hard and fast. The feeling of her holding his cock in a vice grip as she released made his eyes roll; the pressure of her squeezing him was too much. He held her tight against him as his cum filled her tight heat. His hips gave a few shallow thrusts before he roughly dropped her back onto the bed, watching as his seed dripped out of her cunt. Unable to help himself, he pushed it back in with his fingers, grinning as her body jolted from the sensation. Homelander dropped to the side, taking his space on the king-size bed.

Harper got control of the monster within her and breathed deeply as she felt The Siren’s face melt away. She panted and willed her heartbeat to return back to normal after the powerful orgasm that had just shaken her body to the core. The mattress vibrated as she heard Homelander begin to laugh in satisfaction. “Fuck you.” She muttered under her breath and rolled onto her side so she didn’t have to look at him.

“Plenty of time for that later. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.” He continued to laugh. Perhaps Madelyn had been right. Maybe this was what he had needed after all.

---

You say

There's something wrong in my head

So I like to bleed

You say

I'm scaring you now,

but I'm tired

From watching you sleep

I'd erase what you say

Scrambled words in the way

But you can't take away

Turn away

Run away

Fuck with me

---Closer by Burn Season---

#homelander x ofc #homelander x oc #homelander x original female character #the boys fanfic #fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut

[defiant-art]

danger is inevitable and that’s why you need a hero

selfship taglist! <3 @garden-of-seraphim @aliendater @kaibaspuppy @eventiiide @sunstar-of-the-north @gideongrovel @sweettoothselfships @automatonkisser

let me know if u want to be added or removed!!

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[visionsofmagic]

― desired supe [chapter 9]

[previous chapter] [next chapter]

a/n: you will see new characters in this chapter. I hope you will like the way I am writing about them! And some actions will take place in the next chapter. It’s time to see our new members and old ones to really do some jobs done, as well as the boys, right? ;) [yes, I love using this emote and I am old-fashioned, sorry, it’s just cute though]

comments are apricated! and thank you for reading, leaving kudos! they really made me sooo happy.

enjoy the story! love. rose <3

-        -        -

summary of the chapter: New members came to the scene and Y/n really have hard times with both Homelander and these members. However, Butcher there to help her to forget about these things.

warnings!: Homelander’s erratic behaviors, not giving shit one moment but then giving his biggest shit to another moment. also, new characters added like Havoc, George (Multiman), and Mark (Phantom Wings). ALL THESE ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS CREATED BY ME, THEY ARE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS OF MINE. so, please, do not steal.

word count for the chapter: 4.8k

⇁ ⇁ ⇁

  “Here, report of my last mission.”

Giving information filled papers to one of the Vought workers, you took a relaxed breath. Completing so many missions, like 12 now, in your second week, you certainly were exhausted. Missions were good though, they gave you real missions in which you could help people; catching robbers, injuring terrorist who took some innocent people as their hostage, saving people from explosions, so on. Doing all of this made you happy. In your life, you really felt the heart warming side of having power. Vought was trying to look good to public by helping people. They were just doing that for themselves but you didn’t complain because it didn't bother you too much to help people indirectly, even for company’s own benefit. Also, with these missions, people began to recognize you. When you just simply go for a walk in a street, you see some people who gave you a little smile, a nod or even a conversation. Public’s hate to supes was everywhere, but they looked like they had decent emotions for you.

A few days ago, Annie came to your bedroom and told you how her followers liked you. They were texting Annie that they were happy to see because she was helping people like Annie did. Even Hughie told you how he heard some people in streets, talking about your positive appearance in the team. They said, “You are giving them a hope.” You didn’t what to feel about this. They liked you, yes, it made you feel great. But you were in the world’s worst team, the Seven. The number of people who didn’t like you were not that much but they existed, saddening you but there was no other choice. You had to take down the company and the Seven from inside.

“Thank you.”

With worker’s approval, you were ready to go ‘till you saw Ashley’s irritated face in front of you. Why she was looking like she was in great pain every time you had a conversation? You knew she could quit the job, even if it was risky, but Homelander will let her to quit, you knew that. She needed a therapy, more and more each day.

“Why don’t you wear your supe outfit?”

You looked at your current outfit, a black skirt just below the calves and a white thin fabric shirt with one button open at the top and bottom, black flat-heeled shoes with thin black pantyhose. You didn't think the sight with such a bossy air that you couldn't deny would piss her off so much. “This is the dress I used to sneak up on the man who worked all his employees to death without giving them any money and then threw a very formal party. Also, he had some information about the company too. So, I needed to access his personal bedroom,” You silently said, putting one hand near your mouth and closes it, “And you know how perverted some men are.” When she got the meaning of your words, she nodded immediately.

“Okay, okay. It’s not my business to talk about your missions.” She sighed, “But you need to change your outfit and we should get going right now.”

Without waiting for your answer, she rushed towards corridor in such a hurry. You caught her, “To where?”

As Ashley II joined you, walking behind, Ashley looked her iPad, “Don’t say me they didn’t tell you. Oh this lazy workers –“

“They didn’t tell me what?”

She stopped in her trail, anxiety began to increasing inside her, “Four candidates will compete today to join the team and as a member of the Seven, you have to participate in this compete too.”

She began to walk again and after turning to left corridor, she opened huge doors and a small stadium-like space unfolded before your eyes. The area was in a large field and your eyes were slightly squinted by the rays of the sun staring right at you as if smiling. A lot of people were running around the area, the footage filled all around giving the impression that what was going to be here soon would be filmed. On the right side of the great place, there was a food table equipped for everyone. The voices of the people around were disturbingly loud and you knew it would take some getting used to.

Ashley I and Ashley II were talking among themselves about something you didn’t care about. “Ashley,” She turned to you, “When this whole thing will start?”

She checked her watch, “We have 30 minutes. In meantime, you should change your outfit and they will do your makeup. Then, you should read the script.”

You nodded, “Don’t worry, I will be ready. Just give me some time to eat something.”

This time, you didn’t wait for her to talk. Hunger in your stomach was building, giving you sign to eat something right fucking now. It wasn't even two hours since your last mission, and you already had a tired body that need to sleep, making you want to go home after all this was over.

As you reached the food filled table, you saw A-Train, drinking a creamy and caramel flavored drink from the plastic bottle. A smile appeared on your face when you saw the drink had a logo that says "Mitch’s place" on it.

“Hey,” You caught his attention. Pointing to his drink, you asked, “This is from Mitch’s place, right?”

He nodded, realizing your happiness towards this name, “You know there?”

“Yes, I would go to that place in my teenager years. They do the best one out there.” You sighed to yourself, “I wish I would get some too but missions are taking my time a lot.” You chuckled, “If we could switch our powers, I would definitely want yours to go and buy this drink.”

He looked a bit surprised. You were not making fun of him or seeing yourself superior. You were just simply having a conversation about a drink he had. He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt a positive vibe about you. He shrugged, “I can buy one for you next time if you really like it this much.”

You weren’t excepting him being sweet to you. You smiled, “Thank you. You are really sweet.” You could see his little smile, feeling more comfortable than when you came near him.

You took a napkin to hold a caramel flavored donat. After your first bite, A-Train spoke again, “Is this your new outfit or what?”

“No, it’s just a camouflage type of dress for my last mission. I will wear my real one soon,” You showed him your donat, “After eating some of those delicious donuts.”

You were standing in opposition to the speed around you as you enjoyed your food in silence. You were watching the people who will race at the open doors of some of the cars with cabins, which are often seen in the movie sets around. While you don't quite understand their abilities yet, A-Train pointed one at you.

“You see this woman beside Homelander,” After hearing his name, you turned to direction where A-Train pointing at, “She joined the team today.”

3 days have passed since the last event you had with Homelander in his house. From that day on, the company gave you extremely challenging missions, and you didn't even see him once while you took your free time to discuss your work with the boys, and having some sweet moments with them, especially Butcher. But he was standing right in the middle of the field, his hands clasped behind his back as usual, in all the glory he had right before your eyes. After the intense moments you had with him, the rhythm of your heart stumbled with the excitement of seeing him after a long time. You started to feel the excitement and discomfort that you always felt at the same time next to him.

“Her name is Havoc. Supe name, I mean.”

With A-Train’s reference to the woman who was standing beside Homelander while he was talking with Ashley I, you looked at her. Even from this distance, you could see her shining blond hair and her blue eyes that complemented her beauty. You noticed the dangerous sign lurking under the smile of this woman who is shorter than Homelander but has an equally confident stance next to him. You could tell how expensive the fabric of the outfit she was wearing with your pure eyes. The only difference in her outfit, which looked like Starlight's, was that the chest part reached up to her neck wrapped around her thin neck, instead of being open. Her sleeveless outfit complemented with high-heeled ankle-length red shoes, showing how sexy and feminine stance she had. Her outfit had blue and red colors like Homelander’s, additionally a little black color on her body belt as well.

From her body movements, you already knew she was rich. Maybe her family had deal with the company to take her in the team and giving some favors in return.

“Who is she anyway?” You asked curiously.

“I don’t know that much but she looks dangerous.” He turned to you, “I heard she wants to be second leader of the team.”

You took another donut, “So, she is the newest one and she already wants to gain second important role in the team. Am I right?”

A-Train nodded. “She even got an outfit like Homelander did.”

Agreeing with everything A-train said, you saw Ashley quickly leave the two. The fact that Homelander and Havoc who left alone were almost touching each other hit you. The two looked undeniably compatible, like they were meant to end up together. You knew there were two reasons for the heaviness you felt inside your body; firstly, if they would end up together, they would destroy the planet for just fun. You knew that Havoc was not an innocent woman. Thanks to your power, you could see red threads radiating from her body, so loud that alarm bells were ringing. Secondly, the one you didn’t want to admit at all was that Homelander’s attention was not on you anymore, it was on her.

As you were thinking about all of this, you realized how Homelander didn’t look at your direction, even once. He literally was watching other, walking the area with Havoc beside him but he never looked at your direction. Oh, he was avoiding you. He knew that you were there, with A-Train, talking about them. He hadn’t super hearing ability for nothing. He could hear everything around here as well as you.

You smirked, turning to A-Train, “How many new members we will get from this race?”

He thought about it, “As Ashley said, we will take one for now.”

“So, we all will give vote, right?” He nodded, trying to understand where you would get from this information. “Of course, the last decision is Homelander’s.” You knew he was listening. “But we can also make comments about them.”

A-Train was confused but still listening you, “I assume, yes.”

You nodded, “Then, before changing my outfit, I should go and speak with them. Without seeing my outfit, they hardly will recognize me as a member of the team.” You showed your forefinger to him, “Meaning that they would treat me like a worker. They will be real to me.” You smiled, “This is the best one to understand what personality they have.”

“I don’t think we will look at their personality at all but, the stage is yours.”

He showed candidates to you, all of them were standing in different locations. “Which one you would pick?”

After his question, you looked to four candidates. First one caught your eyes was the woman on the left corner of the area, short black hair, smartass looking posture and a positive radiant around her but she already shouted her special helper, entering her caravan again. Not suitable.

Second one was a teenager with red short hair who was jumping rapidly in front of his caravan and talking with his manager looked woman beside him. Two people would cause problem. You needed some alone.

After seeing third one, you immediately eliminated fourth one. The person you looked was the third one, obviously. He was at your age, good looking with his curly brown hair, falling on his forehead. His face reminded you angels. Knowing that he was the person you were looking for with his smile on his smooth face and his stance that will spread joy all around, you began to walk at his caravan.

You felt Homelander’s gazes burning your skins from moment to moment. You could listen their conversation with Havoc but you really knew what they were talking about; blah blah blah.

You wanted to find out whether Homelander was avoiding you on purpose or not and deep down, you wanted save candidates from joining the team. You knew they didn’t know how works done in the company. Yes, they participated even after knowing Homelander killed an innocent citizen, but the person you finally went to, seemed more pure and innocent than others. He just chose wrong route to help people, you assumed.

“Hey,” You smiled at him, hands unified in front of your skirt, “My name is Y/n and I am a worker of Vought. They wanted me to ask if you need anything.” Half true, half lie.

Sitting in his little wooden chair just in front of the caravan, this cute looking kid looked up from his phone and was surprised at first, then immediately smiled at you. “Oh, hi Y/n, I am Mark.” How gentleman. “And no, I don’t need anything but thanks for asking.”

You shrugged, “It’s my job. They give me money for that you know.” You chuckled.

His smiled became wider. Then, with a longer gaze, he squinted his eyes, “Do I know you? You looked a bit familiar.”

You placed one hand on your chin and pretended to think, “I don’t know.” You smirked, playfully, “But if we had met before, I would feel sad that I didn't notice your sweetness the first time.” With a wink, the tension between you turned to flirting one from strangers. He chuckled, looking shy. You really wanted him to go and live his life in peace. Not in the Vought, in the team.

He showed second chair for you to sit but you shook your head negatively, “I can’t. I need to do some works. But,” Your ‘but’ put spark in his eyes, “We can work together if you win this race, right?”

He nodded, excitedly, “Then, I will win.”

You chuckled, “I will watch.” With a last wink, you left him there to change your outfit. You hoped your trick would work on Homelander.

⇁ ⇁ ⇁

  You took a look at the environment that looks more orderly than your first entry; 5 chairs made of expensive metal for the current members to sit on, one of them also had a golden color compared to the others, they stood side by side in a semi-circle, and there was a stage in front of them where the participants would showcase their talents. While A-Train was sitting in the leftmost chair, The Deep chose the rightmost one, and there were 3 empty seats in the middle; the golden colored one was Homelander of course, so, you chose the chair beside A-Train, not wanting to sit beside The Deep.

“Hi, A-Train.”

“Hi.”

As you sat your chair, Ashley appeared suddenly, making both you and A-Train jump in your seats.

“We should do your make-up.”

You rolled your eyes, “I did it already Ashley, like 5 minutes ago.”

She seemed nervous, “So, we should re-done it. Right now, Aerial.” Her eyes pointed behind you, silently. When you looked at where she was pointing in such a nervous state, you saw Homelander and Havoc. They were sitting in their seats while make-up artists doing their jobs, perfecting their faces.

Ashley showed a corner to you where a make-up artist waited for you. You followed her and when you arrived, Ashley kept looking you, afraid to talk. Everybody knew Homelander could hear them. So, you said, “This is so boring. Can I at least open a song, Ashley?”

She looked relieved that you were acting in order to speak with her, “Oh, okay but just for once.”

You opened a random song while saying, “I don’t have any headphones so you will listen it with me.” You increased the volume. “What is it?”

Ashley seemed hesitate for a second before speaking lowly, “This new girl, she is really a bitch. She’s just like them. She acts bossy around all of us, even The Deep, and they don’t say anything.”

‘Them’ and ‘they’ was Homelander, clearly, and Ashley seemed so angry. You assumed the new girl just said worst things to her. Making Ashley angry wasn’t hard but she also looked so sad.

“So, what do you want me to do about this, Ashley?” You questioned, “They already took her to the team.”

“I know, I know.” She walked to left and right, non-stop. While she was holding her hair in anxiety, she looked so weak. “I just –“ She couldn’t finish her sentence. You stopped make-up artist’s hands, giving her sign to leave. As she left your side, you hold Ashley’s shoulders, stopping her.

“Look at me.”

She did as you said.

“You are like the boss of the company now. You say, we do. So, don’t be afraid. She can’t do anything.” You squeezed her shoulders, “Don’t worry.” Anxiety leaving her body, she nodded.

She gave you a grateful look before leaving. Then, you finally sat down your chair. The race was about to start. That moment, Homelander’s full of strength body took his place beside you, with Havoc on his other side. Although the atmosphere suddenly became uneasy, you were not disturbed in any way, on the contrary, you were relieved. Now, he couldn’t avoid you.

5 minutes before the start of the race, the sound that bothered your ears a little with its thinness did not come from anyone other than Havoc. “Y/n, right?” Due to Homelander’s sitting position, leaning back on chair and putting his hands on his knees, she was able to look directly at you. She was grinning as she looked at you, crossed one leg over the other, placed her left arm elbow on the top of her chair, and bent slightly towards the Homelander.

You just nodded, not saying anything. Even A-Train was tensed. She was radiating annoying aura. She really made for Homelander, didn’t she?

“I am Havoc,” She expanded her hand to you. You took her hand to greet her for a short moment. “It’s seems I am the new girl of the team, isn’t it?” Her laugh irritated you. How she was acting like a bitch. It was clear she was smart but being smart in front of these men meant nothing. You had to look more idiotic to get rid of any questions, and with an idiotic look, she could do anything secretly. They wouldn’t wait her to do smartass things. As you said, you were really good at reading people except Butcher and Homelander.

You kept silence but she continued.

“I didn’t mean to take your place sweetie. Please don’t be mad at me.” Her fake smiled wanted you to roll your eyes.

By this, she was pointing Homelander with her eyes who was currently listening your conversation in joy. He really liked being the reason why you two were racing. But, you weren’t in your mood and Homelander wasn’t the person you would fight for.

You smiled, waving your hand in air like it was nothing, “Not at all, honey. What i have now is much nicer than before.” Homelander looked annoyed. “I don't like being in front of everyone all the time.”

A man stood in the stage, holding a scene cutter on his hand. “First shot in 3, 2, 1.”

Then, it began.

⇁ ⇁ ⇁

  In the first shot, the only woman already eliminated after she nearly burned the entire stage due to not being able to control her powers. Then, the second candidate, red-haired teenager guy eliminated because he was acting so childish and his power was to control his own shadow. It didn’t look like to fit into the Seven concept. He was weaker than others.

The guy you talked to and the other one who was taller than other one and had black short hair with green eyes were those who won the first stage and gained chance to race one more time.

So, it was second shot and these two were standing in the stage, side by side. Now, they will show their real ability to all of you but they gave you a break to rest. Even if it was a break, you and Homelander didn’t leave your seats as The Deep and Havoc left for make-up and A-Train went to take a new drink to himself.

After a certain silent, Homelander was the first one to speak, “I think he liked you.”

He was pointing Mark who was taking some glances towards you, shyly. After realizing you were a member of the Seven, Aerial, he looked shocked. Then, he began to smile at you and looking at you from time to time.

You shrugged your shoulders as this didn't have any effect on you, “I think it because I treated him nicely, unlike others.”

Homelander looked at you and when you eyes met, your heart’s beat raced. You didn’t want him to hear it, so you played an imaginary rhythm, using your powers. “If you want to get fucked you should find someone else instead of doing it with our team members or candidates, Aerial.”

The reason why all the sounds in the environment started to sound blurry to your ears was because you were definitely not expecting this. Only 3 days had passed and he had come across you with a rude and hurtful attitude like never before, and he was grinning at you. It was clear that he was the Homelander that all other humans saw, his side that he showed to all other people.

You grinned pretending you didn't hear the sound of something breaking inside you. You swore never, ever to show your own feelings, thoughts, or weakness in front of him. Never.

“I didn’t know we could decide who the team members could fuck or not.” You nearly laughed, sarcastically even.

He looked angry, putting one foot on the other, “No, you can’t decide.” He pointed to himself, “I can.”

“Oh,” You tried to look surprise, then, smirked, “Good thing I don't want to fuck anyone from the team. Asking you whether I can do it or not would be weird, right?”

Then, others came and second shot began. Your conversation with him ended up like this.

⇁ ⇁ ⇁

  “Hey,” On the contrary, seeing the sad face of Mark, to whom you approached with calm steps with your hands behind your back, made you happy, because it meant salvation for him. “Don’t be sad. You did really well but Multiman’s power was a bit suitable for the team.”

Multiman, or George, was the other candidate who won the race. His power was to create clones. He was strong as well. You knew Homelander would pick him. The mission went as how you wanted it to go.

“I know but I really wanted to help people.” He sounded genuine.

“You still can do it.” You smiled at him, “I will ask them if they have a position in the company, okay? You will not be in our team but you still would help people. Do you want it?”

He suddenly took your hands in his, smiling widely, making you smile like him too. “You really do this for me?” Then, he left your hands, “So sorry, I didn’t mean to –“

You waved your hand, “Don’t think about it, it’s okay. And yes, I will talk with some people, okay?” Then, you gave him your phone which he looked confused at. “For contacting with you.”

“Oh, right, right!”

He wrote his number to your notes app. You gave him a last smile before going inside the building.

As you waited in front of the elevator, Homelander stood your side. He didn’t say anything ‘till you two entered the elevator, then pressing the button of 99th floor. You would discuss about some business in the Seven’s meeting room. All other members were gone long ago and you felt like Homelander waited for you to go.

The moment the number 54 appeared on the small screen just above the elevator buttons, a voice came from beside you.

“I thought I was clear when I said you can’t fuck of get fucked by our members or candidates, Aerial.”

You shrugged, “And I listened your command carefully, sir.”

You were building walls between you now. It was the most logical thing to do. If he wanted to treat to you like any other supes, you would act him as your boss.

“And what where you thinking while speaking with this winged guy,” Waving his hand in the air like he didn’t know his name, “about giving him a position in the company.”

He turned to you, “I am in charge of the company. Not you, not anybody else.”

“I didn’t know you were listening.” You chuckled. His treat was nothing to you. After this confident sentence, you waved your hands in front of him, feeling that you needed to soften the atmosphere after seeing his frown.  “Firstly, I don’t want to fuck or get fucked by him.” He relaxed more, but not enough. “Secondly, I would ask you, of course. I am not the boss.” You were doing good to make him relax.

When you were about to reach the 99th floor, you stood right in front of him, tilting your head up and smirking, “Lastly, if I really want to get fucked by him, you wouldn’t be able to stop me from doing it.”

You knew that the last sentence had smashed into his face and fell under his feet, and that he would have given anything to chew on it because his interest in you was no longer something he could hide. You pulled the trigger on what was holding him back and it was up to him when he gave you feedback of your confident action.

⇁ ⇁ ⇁

  “You look like a tank hit you.”

Butcher’s presence was making you feel like you were throwing yourself into a tub of ice in the middle of an extremely hot day. He was giving you calm and fresh environment by just being in the same room with you.

“It would chose by hitting with a tank today, believe me.”

He chuckled, patting the couch he was sitting, a beer in his hand. You took your jacket off, you were wearing your camouflage outfit; a black skirt with a white shirt. His eyes run of your body from head to toe. Unlike any other men, his looks made you dizzy, comfortable even. You tied your hair, leaving a few fall on sides of your face.

You sat down right beside him, leaning your neck on the back of couch. You could tell from the energy emanating from Butcher's body standing behind your eyes that there was not only passion in the eyes that roamed over your skin, but also they filled with care.

He followed your posture, leaning his neck on the back of couch like you. His open legs made his right one to touch yours. You liked these little touches you shared.

“You want to talk about it hon’?”

You nodded, “I don’t know where to start, William.” This was first time you said his first name. You were calling him with Butcher, mostly, and with Billy, rarely. But calling him with his first name was because you wanted him to know that he took a significant place in your life.

“Hey,” You opened one of your eyes to see him. He showed his legs without looking at your eyes, “We have a long night, so, if you would ya’ start, you can –“

His sentence cut by your sudden action; putting your head to his lap, closing your eyes and switching from sitting position to lying down. His strong legs were under your head. He froze for a second which could be seen as an understandable action, but when you began to talk about your day, not in detail because you were tired, he relaxed and the night went on like this, becoming your most touching moment with Butcher ‘till now.

Butcher was your comfort zone now and you wished you were his too.

[an important question; I am planning to write with Homelander’s and Butcher’s POV for next chapter in the third point of view. for example; Homelander felt sudden excitement inside. He thought how good you looked. 

I wonder if you would want to read their POVs, so, comment me your ideas please!]

<3

#the boys #the boys series #the boys fanfic #The boys x Reader #tv series #the boys tv series #Billy Butcher #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #homelander #the homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader #homelander x you #billy butcher x reader x homelander #original character #Annie January #hughie campbell #soldier boy #m.m. #Frenchie #kimito #Queen Maeve #ashley #victoria neuman #masterlist #series #series masterlist #x reader

[thevanityofthefox]

soon!

#the boys oc #the boys fanart #the boys series #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #homelander #homelander x reader #Glam Cat✨ by Dirok #original character #art #oc art #digital art #artists on tumblr

[shamelessinnerbeast]

Gift for my friend... because the more she talks to me about them, the more I like them and their strangely pure in the end relationship Music : "Hide In Your Shell" - Supertramp

#the boys #the boys homelander #homelander #homelander x oc #OC #the boys fanart #the boys art #the boys oc #original character #original female character #gore #horror #still cute tho #monster girl #mutant #the boys series #TV series #wild woman #wild girl

[neonpaperlanterns]

I'm not mad

(A/n: So I'm really not into The Boys. I tried watching it and while I think it is good I didn't actually like it. But a friend of mine asked me to write a small thing about Homelander being a pathetic bastard and I was proud of it so this will be the only thing from The Boys I ever post.)

Homelander could count on one hand the amount of times he has been nervous. He could count on one hand the amount of times he felt dread. He could count on one hand the amount of times he felt lower than a human. There were men lesser than him that were still better than him.  

He hated it. 

Hated himself.

Hated that he ever let himself listen to Stormfront.

He watched as Lydia put her shoes by the door. Watched as she set her bag on the table. She had just gotten back from work. Her gaze found his and she smiled. It was tired but it seemed happy. He wanted to believe she was happy to be here. Happy to be with him. He bit the inside of his cheek as he smiled back.

She’s been home for five minutes.

Seven minutes.

Ten minutes.

Homelander hated himself. He was disgusting. Undeserving. 

“Lydia.” He called out, his tone hesitant and small. Things had been going so well. She moved in with him, he was going to be getting his son. Everything was going perfectly and yet he was disgusting. He ruined everything he touched.

“John, are you alright?” She was close to him. Her small hands resting on his shoulders. He let his eyes slip closed as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face in her stomach. She smelled like books and lavender. His grip tightened and her fingers were running through his hair.

She was so good to him. 

He loved her so much. 

He thinks she loves him too and maybe she will forgive him.

“I slept with Stormfront.” he spoke into her abdomen. The words were mumbled but from the way her hands stopped he knew she had heard. Her hands gently pushed at his shoulders but he didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want to face what he did.

“You slept with Stormfront?” her voice sounded flat. His shoulders hunched up to his ears and he nodded. 

“John.” Her tone was even. “Let go of me.” she didn’t sound mad and that made him feel a bit hopeful. She could still forgive him. Pulling back he looked up at her. Her expression was unreadable. Her heart beat steady as she looked down at him. 

“I’m so sorry Lydia.” he spoke softly as she moved away from him. His apology made her flinch but still she looked at him with a face he could not read. 

“Are… Are you mad at me?” He watched her lip twitch. A ghost of a sneer played across her face but it disappeared as soon as it came.

“No. I’m not mad at you.” she was walking away but his heart soared. She wasn’t mad at him. He fucked up but she wasn’t mad at him. She had forgiven him. He didn’t deserve Lydia, she was perfect. Above the rest. He loved her so much.

“That makes me happy. I love you.” he followed after, he waited for her to say she loved him back. But she didn’t. She never said it but her actions spoke so much louder than words. “I promise I’ll make it….” he trailed off as he saw her grabbing a bag. Clothes were being neatly folded and placed inside of it. 

He didn’t understand.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked tentatively. She said nothing as she made her way to the bathroom. 

“Why are you leaving? Didn’t you say you weren’t mad at me?” he didn’t understand. Why was she packing when she wasn’t mad at him? She had forgiven him. Yes she hasn’t said she did but she wasn’t mad so she must have. 

“I’m not mad at you.” Lydia reiterated as she placed her toiletries in the bag. He was still confused and she just sighed. “I’m not mad. I’m just done with you.” Homelander felt his heart stall in his chest.

“What do you mean you’re done with me?” he felt his fists clench at his side, the leather of his gloves creaking. 

“I’m breaking up with you.” She tilted her head to the side and looked at him like he was stupid. And he must be because he could not understand what she was saying.

Lydia had forgiven him, right?

Yet clearly that wasn’t true. Panic seared through his veins as she walked past him. Her bag slung over her shoulder as she made for the front door. Running past her he plastered himself over the door. She looked unamused.

“Homelander move.” He was Homelander again? She hadn’t called him that in months. Why was he Homelander again? 

“No.” his voice came out weak. “You can’t leave. Please don’t leave.” he begged. She couldn’t leave, if she left then she would be gone forever. Her expression was flickering between anger, annoyance, and apathetic. 

“Well I’m not interested in looking at the face that begged me to move in. That begged me to build a family with him and his son. Then had the audacity to cheat on me with a woman he couldn’t stand a month ago.” she was pinching the bridge of her nose. “So move. Or get out. I don’t care. I just don’t want to see that face.” her hand aggressively gestured at his face. If he left and she stayed then at least he would know where she was. If she was here maybe they could work this out. Maybe she could forgive him. Love him.

“I’ll leave.” he said quietly. “I’ll get out.” he was nodding his head. Yes he would leave. Give her time. They could work this out.

“Okay then pack a bag and get out.” he felt like she was going to say more but held her tongue. Her arms crossed in front of chest as she moved towards the couch. She didn’t look at him as he went to get his things. Didn’t look at him as he cracked open the door. She was pointedly staring at the muted tv screen.

“I love you.” she didn’t react. “I’m sorry.” nothing, she did nothing. Feeling his heat clench in his chest he left. He would give her time. They could work this out. She would forgive him. Lydia never said it but he knew she loved him. Deep down she loved him. They could work through this.

He just knew they could.

#The Boys #homelander #homelander x oc #original female characters #cheating #unhealthy relationships #stormfront #she's not mad #attempted leaving #delusional behavior #possibly out of character #i only saw like the first two episodes #this show kinda makes me queasy #this man is unhinged and pathetic and he would probably be real fun to write for but I just can't do it #favor for a friend

[olliveolly]

Hello hello guys~

New art incoming🥰🤗

On my days off i still continue to churn out my favorite ship art in anticipation of someone being inspired to write a good fanfic, but besides this, from time to time I want to put more and more details into the history of their relationship.

Hope you enjoy ❤️

#homelander #fanart #the boys series #alternate universe #sketch #the boys #homelander x oc #homelander x reader #original character

[bittersweetarts]

How to Disappear - Chapter 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x OC

Word count: 3933 words

Summary: Eden Reid can't help her curiosity, and Soldier Boy can't help but take advantage of that curiosity.

WARNINGS: Cursing, substance abuse, minor violence

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - AO3 Page

Chapter 2: Sweet

While Eden scoured for her co-worker, Matt’s phone number, and frantically begged for his plug’s contact info, Soldier Boy made himself home in Eden’s cabin. And the first item in his agenda whilst doing so, was to steal beer from Eden’s fridge… multiple bottles, without asking.

“This Bud Light shit’s not too bad.”

Soldier Boy remarked as roamed around Eden’s living space, while she stood not paying attention him, hunched over her kitchen counter, texting Jenna, the woman who was generous enough to be supplying her (or rather him) some blow. Unfortunate for Soldier Boy though, Jenna would not drive up to Norvin Green Forest just for her.

Setting her phone down on the counter, Eden took a breath and turned to face Soldier Boy, who was already watching her, and the two stared at each other. Soldier was still dressed in his ruined costume, and Eden momentarily wondered whether he was comfortable. Who the fuck cares, Eden thought, and snapped herself back to reality, pressing her lips together before speaking up.

“I found someone who selling, but she’s unavailable tonight. I’ll drive by to pick it up tomorrow”

At that, Eden saw Soldier Boy’s jaw clench before he feigned a smile, not saying anything.

The room was deathly-silent, and Eden felt that it was likely she was going to be killed if she did not think quick. Turning around and opening one of her cupboards, she pulled an unopened bottle of whiskey she had bought a very long time ago and mustered up as much charm in her tone as she could.

“I’ve got whiskey, and I can make something to eat. You must be hungry.”

Eden could feel the fakeness in her demeanor, and cursed herself for being such a terrible actor, but it seemed to work, as Soldier Boy walked up to her and took the whiskey bottle from her hand before responding.

“That would be nice, doll.”

Eden was now pressed against the counter, and could feel Soldier Boy’s acidic breath on her face as he spoke. He did not step back or create any distance as he opened the bottle one-handedly and took a swig. Pressing her lips together out of nerves, Eden side-stepped out of his proximity, and approached her fridge, glad that she always gets her groceries after she finishes work for the weekend.

With her fridge and pantry full, she willed herself to calm down and started making a midnight meal, as Soldier Boy leaned against the counter near her, and began to grill her about who she was, how he had ended up in her home, and what the fuck has happened since he last had opened his eyes.

The savory scent of seared meatballs took hostage of the cabin’s living room and kitchen, and as Eden continued to cook, Soldier Boy’s mood seemed to improve.

“… and the Super-Goldilocks is back in the Seven, forgiven just like that?”

“I don’t know, I kind of forgot about Starlight and she hasn’t been on the news in ages. I think she’s quit, that is if quitting is an option.”

Eden responded passively whilst stirring the pot of pasta, and Soldier Boy let out a loud, humorless laugh. The American ex-hero was now more than half-way through the large whiskey bottle, now dressed in oversized grey sweats and a dark shirt, or rather it was oversized for Eden, but him just right. Eden hated to admit it, but she doubted anything would look bad on him.

Dinner was going to take some time – Eden made the strategic choice to make something reasonably time-consuming, in case he intended to kill her post-meal, and in the event he’d kill her because the food was bad – and Eden had offered her shower, spare toiletries and a change of clothes after he had conducted his interrogation of her.

“Denver, Colorado.”

“So, you’re a Coloradan.” Soldier Boy asked, staring at her intently as she cleaned and chopped some onions, in her sweats and sandy-brown hair in a high pony.

“Born and bred.”

“Age.”

“Twenty-five. Turning twenty-six in a few months.” Eden did not see Soldier Boy raise his brows at her.

“What do you want from me?” This confused Eden, who furrowed her burrows.

“Nothing.”

“And you have never worked for Vought?”

“Nope, not interested.”

“And Butcher?”

“Butcher what?” Eden turned around to face the man in her cabin, setting down the knife she held onto the cutting board. “… You mean have I killed anyone? No, I don’t really like hurting people.”

The questions began to trail off and finish, and Eden’s answers seemed to satisfy Soldier Boy, as did her meal she prepared, which was a warm meatball stroganoff.

Eden wasn’t blind and could see that Soldier Boy was big, so she plated as much as possible on a large plate, and placed it on the single plain plastic mat which was laying on the kitchen dining table, along with a fork and knife. Soldier Boy had been already sat at the table, and smiled at her oddly enthusiastically.

“Bon appetite.” Eden said tiredly as she sat down a seat away from her guest, who had already began eating ravenously, ignoring her.

Unlike Soldier Boy, who only seemed more alive as each moment passed, Eden was exhausted, and could feel that tiredness in her bones. Probably due to that tiredness, Eden sat in silence, expressionless, as she watched her guest empty his plate and let out a satisfied burp.

“That was not half-bad, doll.”

Soldier Boy commented as he took another swig of the whiskey. But before he was able to set it down on the dining table, Eden grabbed the bottle, now not only tired but irritated by his comment, and chugged it near to its end. As she did, Soldier Boy met her brown eyes, lips quirked with a tilted head, as though amused by her little outburst. His face tilted down, as though daring her to say something, and with liquid courage, Eden did just that.

“Are you going to kill me? I’m tired, so if you’re not going to, I’m going to bed. Feel free to sleep on the couch, in the guest room, or don’t. You can leave, I really don’t care.”

As she finished speaking, the brunette could feel her head begin to spin, and dropped the bottle onto the table before pushing herself off her seat and stamping to her bedroom, not bothering to wait for her guest’s response, who simply raised his brows at her outburst and finished off the bottle.

Who the fuck does he think he is? Eden thought as she collapsed onto bed. Her bedroom door was open and Eden did not even bother to change before falling asleep.

The blaring, repetitive high-pitched sound of Eden’s alarm penetrated into her sleep, and as she woke up, Eden cursed herself for forgetting to switch it off for the weekend. It was a Saturday morning, so why the fuck would she need to be up at half past six in the morning.

Her eyes burned as she started at her ceiling, which was beginning to get lighter, signaling the start of a new day. Eden was just about to drift back into sleep, until she remembered the night before, and the large dangerous man in her cabin.

Soldier Boy.

Suddenly Eden’s heart began to race again and involuntarily the brunette sat up, as her body now jolted into complete consciousness.

Fucking hell. Eden thought, as she reluctantly sat up in her bed, still tired but now sleepless.

The November freeze was beginning to set, her room failing to maintain its warmth. On top of her clothing, which still reeked of cooked beef and seasoning, Eden threw on an oversized lilac hoodie and draped herself with her blanket as she walked out her room, and looked around her quiet house. Except for the unmade guest bed and last night’s cooking, there was no sign of him, and Eden wondered whether he had left.

As she cleared the mess from last night, the thought of him gone brought her relief, until she looked out the kitchen window and saw the fucker on the cabin’s deck, watching the sunrise.

Sighing, opened the kitchen back-door, and blanket still draped over her, Eden walked up to Soldier Boy, who did not react in any way, instead just watching the mountains and the trees against the backdrop of the sun rising. The morning birds began their song, and Eden would alternate between watching the scene and glancing at Soldier Boy, who stood unphased in the freezing cold in sweats and a thin black shirt, which was tight against his built chest and massive arms.

Of course he doesn’t feel the fucking cold.

“It’s a nice view.”

Soldier Boy was the first to break the silence, and as he spoke, the winter sun cast a golden hue onto his face. He was still watching the trees whilst Eden watched him, and as a sharp wind passed, Eden tighten the hold on her blanket. Not knowing what to say, and definitely not pegging him for a sentimental guy, Eden mumbled in agreement, looking away.

“It is.”

Eden was right, Soldier Boy was not a sentimental guy, and he was never one to appreciate nature. He didn’t give a fuck about it, never did, but for some reason, it caught his attention now. He didn’t feel like himself, not since he woke, and whilst Eden slept, Soldier Boy was left with his thoughts, processing what had happened to him.

He was betrayed by his team, again. He felt lost, again. He felt like a nobody, forgotten, a fucking loser, again. And he was so fucking sick of it. Still looking out, feeling oddly vulnerable, Soldier Boy spoke in his usual cadence.

“My name is Ben, short for Benjamin. Did you know that?”

Eden remained quiet, and Soldier Boy turned to look at the girl next to him, who shook her head again, still intimidated, and Ben chuckled in response.

“You can use your words, doll.”

“No.” Eden’s throat felt dry, and she still didn’t know what else to say.

“I was born in Philly. We don’t have as many mountains there.” Soldier Boy stated simply, before looking out at the mountains again, finishing.

“This really is a nice view.”

In this moment, Eden wondered whether he really was that threatening, or whether she was being a coward and judging him too harshly. Taking a breath, she spoke up.

“If you think is nice, you’d love Colorado. The mountains are much grander, and the nature is breathtaking.”

Soldier Boy turned back to face Eden, tilting his head.

“Then why’d you leave?”

The brunette took no offense, and smiled as she answered.

“No reason to stay.”

Turning away, Eden stripped the blanket off herself, ignoring Soldier Boy’s burning stare and deflected before walking away.

“How do pancakes sound? Not too brag, but my Home-Ec teacher said that my pancakes were the best in the class.”

“Bet they are.” Soldier Boy responded loudly, smiling with his teeth, his green eyes fixated on the now visible outline of Eden’s ass as she walked away, her hips naturally swaying with every step she took.

Eden quickly noticed that Soldier Boy – or rather, Ben – actually really liked her cooking, and she wondered whether that was why he hung about her cabin. The leftovers of last night’s pasta must have been finished while she was asleep, and similarly, the pancakes she made in the morning were completely devoured.

The only thing Ben seemed to like more than her cooking, was the weed she bought from Jenna. And Jesus, did it stink up the cabin. Eden thought she could handle it - the depletion of her fridge, the heavy scent of Ben’s smoking, and occasionally, some strangely intrusive questions – and on that first day, she did. When Eden wasn’t cooking food, she was sat on the living room sofa reading whilst the TV was playing and Ben was smoking and drinking, and when Ben wasn’t smoking or drinking, he took it upon himself to start a one-sided conversation.

“College?”

“Dropped out.”

“A good girl like you? Bullshit, I don’t believe it.”

“I’m not forcing you to, but I doubt I’d be living in the woods and working as a receptionist forty minutes away if I did graduate.”

Ben continued asking personal questions about her and occasionally opened-up about himself. Eden didn’t learn much, but she did learn that he went to boarding school, and that his favorite movie was A Streetcar Named Desire.

“Marlon Brando, now that’s a real man.” Eden doubted that Ben knew anything about the Last Tango in Paris movie controversy which involved Brando, and considering he literally belonged to the previous century, she doubted he’d care.

With that personality, he should thank God for his looks. Eden thought more than once.

As the days passed, Eden did not expect Soldier Boy to be so genial, but she didn’t question it. If he was going to hang around her, she’d prefer him curious and amiable, rather than hands wrapped around her throat (and not in the sexy way).

After two days of this though, Eden grew quickly tired.

Rather quickly, the food in her house ran out and Soldier Boy – correction, Ben – had almost finished the weed, despite her purchasing a copious amount. Eden wasn’t made out of money, obviously she wasn’t, no one was nowadays with rising fuel and energy prices.

And since her guest was not exactly bringing anything to the table, and Eden had to go back to her job the following morning, she started to feel a little tense. On top of that, Eden was used to being alone, having been like that for years now, and having company honestly drained her.

“Hey Ben.”

Dressed in her red coat, Eden walked up to her guest after clearing up the dishes from dinner (it was lasagna, so thankfully not that many dishes).

Ben was sat on a wooden chair on the deck, now in a simple white t-shirt, still smoking and drinking. As usual, when Eden was not talking to him, Ben sat alone with his own thoughts, and Eden wondered what took up so much space on his mind.

Soldier Boy hummed in response as she walked up to him, taking the seat beside him. It was rather late, still cold, but the sky was clear, and the moon shone brightly.

“I’ve got to get up early for work tomorrow, and I’ll be away until the evening –”

“Skip it.” Ben interrupted Eden with a grin, before taking another puff of his joint.

“I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not.”

This time when Ben exhaled the smoke, the wind blew it onto Eden’s face. Eden was never a particularly patient person, and unsurprisingly, she found herself irritated by this.

“Because who’s then going to pay for that weed. You’ve already asked me to get more, and money doesn’t fucking grow on the trees.”

A crack in Soldier Boy’s friendly façade appears, as his smile tightens.

“Cussing is not attractive, doll.”

“And neither is bumming it. Go fuck yourself. And my name is Eden, not doll. It’s twenty-twenty-two, not the fucking nineteen-seventies.”

Eden’s response was quick, and with every word, her voice raised, meanwhile Soldier Boy’s smile minimized and jaw clenched, as though he were restraining himself. Unlike Soldier Boy though, Eden could not bite her tongue and continued her rant.

“And while we’re at it, what exactly are you – are we – doing? I’ll be going to work and you’ll be here, doing what? You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t particularly want Homelander or Vought on my front-porch, ready to discard me as collateral damage.”

As she spoke, she unconsciously started gripping the chair’s arm, which began to crack, and Soldier Boy noticed this.

“I’m sure you can take care of yourself, doll.”

“Of course I can look after myself, but just because you’re here doesn't mean that I'm a little housewife, cooking and cleaning after you, whilst also working and watching my back for your enemies.”

At this, Soldier Boy’s patience finished and now he spoke in the same spiteful tone.

“I didn’t ask for your help, or for anything from you. You decided to play hero all on your own. And you know what I fucking think, sweetheart, I think that your panties have been dry for a very long time and you jumped at the first opportunity you saw a real man who could fix that for you. Nothing to be ashamed of or get prissy about.”

Soldier Boy’s monologue was cut short by the sound of sharp slap.

Eden, stood now, didn’t hold herself back when she slapped her hand against Soldier Boy’s cheek, and her super strength definitely showed, as Soldier Boy cupped the point of impact with his free hand, dropping his joint to the ground, his eyes now glazed with a look that infuriated Eden even more. Eden didn’t care if Soldier Boy would kill her now and continued insulting him.

“Jesus Christ are you delusional. I would stab myself a million before I even fucking touch you–”

Eden was unable to finish her sentence, because in the blink of an eye, her face was grabbed firmly, and she felt warm lips aggressively press against hers, and hairs scratch against her skin.

Eden didn’t even really like him, so why the fuck was her first instinct to reciprocate, close her eyes and open her stupid fucking mouth. And as they made out in the freezing cold, Eden suddenly felt to warm in her coat, and as Soldier Boy pulled her on top of himself, Eden, still very much kissing him, started peeling off her coat, feeling just too warm.

And the most embarrassing part was not Eden’s reciprocity, but that Soldier Boy was the first one to pull away and hold her back as she instinctively pushed forward to meet his lips again.

“You were saying, doll.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Snapped to reality for a moment, Eden tried to pick herself up and get up from Ben’s lap, but before managing to do so, with strong hands around her waist, Ben pushed her back in, letting their lips collide again. Irritated with him yet again, Eden stubbornly refused open her mouth until he lightly bit her bottom lip, causing her to gasp, giving his tongue to opportunity to enter her mouth again.

Not that Eden would ever admit to him, but it had been a long time since she’d last have sex, specifically since her God U days before she broke up with her ex, and she has been practically celibate since. And something inside her took control as she was forced by her intuition, and ignored her rationality, similar to when she first saw Soldier Boy on the beach weeks ago.

Without realizing, Soldier Boy picked up Eden and she instinctively wrapped her around his waist, and her hands moved to his hair, gripping on the strands and inciting a groan from him. His lips were on her own, and on her jaw, neck, ears, chest, stomach, legs, and practically everywhere else, and as the night went on, the two of them did it in the kitchen, living room, and eventually reached her bedroom.

Ben would call her sweet, tell her she tasted just like that, and Eden would tell him to shut up, and to keep going. The brunette did not even know that this part of herself existed, the part of her that was so set on simply just fucking someone else and actually enjoying it, pleasure with no real love or attachment present, and Soldier Boy was more than happy to provide that experience for her, repeatedly, all night long.

When Eden woke up, she was not greeted by a warm body next to hers, but by the familiar blaring beeping of her stupid alarm. Eden’s eyes were blurry, and her head pounded as she sat up to switch off her stupid alarm, which informed her of the time. Half past six.

Eden’s head hurt, and as she rolled back to bed and turned to her side, flashes of the previous night came to her.

Her nails scratching his bare back as he entered her.

His teeth sinking into her chest, leaving temporary wet marks.

The bitter taste of his mouth, and how she didn’t entirely hate it.

Ben.

As Eden started remembering, she sat back up and her bed creaked, something it did not previously do. The brunette looked around her room, only to find it empty. Eden assumed that Ben probably went back to the guest bedroom, or maybe decided to get an early start to his drinking and smoking.

It wasn’t her business, but Eden was curious, and her feet moved on their own accord, first to the guest bedroom, which was empty, bed still undone of course. The house was quiet, with only the birds chirping in the background.

Odd.

As Eden ventured of to the living room, and then the kitchen, she found the place a mess – with throw pillow all over the place and glass shards scattered in one corner, from when Eden accidentally pushed it off the kitchen counter only some hours earlier – a consequence from their late-night activities.

Eden’s eyes scanned her living space, but no sign of the large man who had haunted her house for the past weeks could be found. Eden looked around the cabin’s front porch and back-deck, but it was just the same, empty. The only sign left of Soldier Boy was the small pile of laundry he left on the ground, and the stench of weed that occupied various spaces around the cabin.

Stop it.

Eden scolded herself as she went to freshen up for the day and get ready for work. Soldier Boy – Ben – probably felt cooped up and decided to go for a run or explore the area. And even if he left, who the cares. Eden sure as hell shouldn’t. Ben intruded in her space, contributed nothing, wasted her time and energy, and made such a mess. He was not nice, and did not sincerely thank her even once.

Sure, he was a good fuck, but that’s it. And was he even a good fuck if he didn’t even bother to put on a condom or ask if she was on birth control? That’s the thing about men, you couldn’t count on them for anything. That’s exactly why Eden had a copper IUD, because even with her ex of two years, she couldn’t count on him (apparently it didn’t feel as good with rubber).

Anyways, it doesn’t matter.

Or that’s what Eden tried to tell herself as she brushed her hair and applied lipstick, before heading out of her home, dressed in her usual outfit for work, a modest black dress and her coat. Glancing at the hallway clock, Eden observed the time, and saw that it was almost eight, which was the perfect time to leave, as she’d still have time to grab a coffee before reaching the clinic.

But as she looked at the trinket tray which sat on the cabinet by the door, she found it bare, missing something really important.

The keys to her Mazda.

The keys to her fucking Mazda were missing from the place she always kept them at, ever since she moved to her cabin over four years ago.

“Motherfucker.”

Author's Note: I'm feeling a little delirious, and I've proofread this but am not entirely certain about its quality and grammar. If there are any mistakes or something doesn't make sense, apologies! On another note, I've started watching Supernatural 🫡 Jensen Ackles, oml Also, if you are enjoying the story, I always appreciate comments as they really motivate me!

– Chapter 3

#soldier boy #ben #the boys #the boys amazon #fanfiction #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy x you #jensen #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #homelander #vought #you imagine #hurt #hurt comfort #the boys tv #butcher #soldier boy ben #soldier boy x original character

[dragonmasterkaylz]

Vought Prisons Warden

This fanfiction is about a Vought’s Prison Warden and how she got revenge on Homelander, using her newest prisoner, Soldier Boy. It contains sadism, a pretty submissive Soldier Boy and also GIFS of Catherine Ward from Angels of Death.

Don’t Like? Don’t Read.

A woman with short blonde hair and green eyes watched as a Cryo Chamber was transported into the underground jail just beneath Vought Tower. She looked at who was inside and giggled before bending her riding crop repeatedly. Then she walked away and laughed even more, scaring off the other guards. She put her hand over her eyes as she laughed and then looked over at Grace Mallory.

“All for me~? Hahaha!!! That radiation of his will be very useful to me! But… he’s no good to me like this”, she said as she stomped on the chamber with her heel. Grace nodded and said, “Do what you want with him, Scarlett. But he doesn’t leave this prison”. “Yes ma’am…”, the Warden said sarcastically as she left and the doors closed by themselves. She looked at the Cryo Chamber and said, “Bring him into my office. Now!!!” The guards gulped. “Y-Yes ma’am!!!”

Scarlett looked over the Cryo Chamber in her office and sat on it before saying, “Hmm~, you’re going to be very useful to me~”. She unlocked the chamber and pulled it open before taking the mask off of his face. Ben gasped and fell out of the chamber before trying to get up on his own. A light started to bloom in his chest, until she hit him with her riding crop. “I don’t think so~!” He glared up at her and asked, “Who the fuck are you? And why am I here…?”

She sat on her desk and said, “My name is Scarlett Ripley and I’m the Warden of Vought’s Underground Prison! And you… are going to help me, Benjamin~”. Then she handed him some clothes, which he put on immediately. “What if I refuse?” “Then you’ll be under my boot just like the rest of these scumbag Supes!”, she told him sadistically. She snapped her fingers and two scientists walked in, restraining him. “What the fuck?!!” “Don’t you dare struggle!”

“Or I swear this will be more painful than it should be!”, she told him before laughing. Ben grunted as they took him to the operating room and she followed them with a smirk on her face. He was shoved down onto the metal table and strapped down before one of the Doctors asked, “What would like for us to do?” “I want some of that radiation in here”, she said, handing them her riding crop. “We’ll see what we can do, ma’am”. “Good~”.

Ben looked at it and saw them take it apart, before asking, “What is that thing?” “Well, if you want to know so badly… I’ll tell you. It may look like a regular riding crop to you, but it’s much more than that. It’s an instrument that can suck up any Superheroes powers without fail. All I need is a sample of their blood, since that’s where your true power lies. And if I can get your radiation… I can neutralise any Supes power with just a flick of a switch~. Fufu~”.

Then the scientists took a sample of his blood and he tended up, making her smile. They tested it and said, “All we have is super-strength ma’am”. Scarlett growled and then shouted, “Well, do whatever you have to! I want that radiation!!!” They all froze as she stood up and kicked the chair around. Then she hummed and grabbed a needle before climbing on top of him. “What are you doing?!” “I saw a glow in your chest”. His eyes widened when she blushed.

“Fufu~, this IS going to hurt~!”, she told him before stabbing the needle into his chest. He fell back and screamed as she extracted some blood out of him. “Y-You bitch…!” She backhanded him and shouted, “Don’t you DARE take that tone with me!!!” She passed the blood sample to her scientists and kept her eyes on Ben. “Positive! We have his radiation!” She smiled sadistically and said, “I want as much of his blood as possible then~”. “Of course ma’am”.

After her riding crop was perfected, she held it close to her and sighed happily. “Ahh~, this is perfect~. Thank you so much Soldier Boy! You’ve been VERY cooperative!” Ben grunted in pain as he was released and he asked, “Where the fuck is my cell then?” Scarlett smiled and said, “Oh… you’re not going into one of my cells. You’re going to help me!” He frowned and asked, “Why would I do that?” “Do you really want to go into one my cells~? It’s your choice!”

In the end he chose to work with her, but she needed to have a meeting with the new CEO of Vought. The one man she hated the most: Homelander. She cuffed Ben and walked into the Seven’s room, where he was stood. “Soldier Boy and Warden Scarlett Ripley”. She forced a smile and said, “I want Ben to work with me. He will be a great asset in keeping all of my prisoners in check!” He turned around and said, “You tried to kill my son”. “He attacked me”.

She pulled her riding crop out of her boot and asked, “Can we just speed this along?! He’ll stay in the prison with me and just help me keep the rest of them in check! Do we have an agreement, John?” Homelander huffed and turned around again. “Do what you want”. Scarlett then walked away with Ben and twisted her riding crop. “I fucking hate that egotistical bastard!”, she growled before sighing. “Why do you hate him?” “I’ll tell you later… tch!”

Then she got a message on her phone from Maeve and looked at it before smirking. “Oh my~”. They went back to the prison and she watched the Flight 37 video. She smirked and said, “If only this got leaked~. Homelander would be out of a job and he would be behind these very bars!!! Hahahaha!!!” Ben cringed and mumbled, “You’re fucking insane”. She ignored him and then said, “I repaired your shield and I have your uniform”. “Really…? Thanks…”.

A Month Later…

“So basically, what you’re trying to tell me is that Victoria Neuman is really a ‘Supe’ that is capable of blowing off people’s heads. But she’s also a Vice President Candidate, which will make it difficult to place her behind these bars”. Hughie nodded and said, “I know what I’m telling you probably sounds mad, but she can’t be the new Vice President”. She nodded and said, “Don’t worry. I have a cell for her”. “You do?” She nodded and smirked. “Of course~!”

Then she showed him her empty cells. “Neuman, Homelander, Deep, A-Train, etcetera. All of them have committed crimes and I would love to have them all behind bars~! Eternal punishment for them all!!!” She laughed hysterically, making him shiver in fear. “Warden Ripley… is it true that Soldier Boy is your bodyguard?”, he asked. She nodded and said, “He’s also a very a effective Guard too!“ That’s when they heard Ben shout and Scarlett blushed heavily.

“H-How does he live here?” The blonde played with her riding crop and said, “As long as I supply him with beer, food and porn, he’s happy. I just wish he wasn’t watching that kind of porn”. Hughie nodded and asked, “Grannies?” “Yes! It’s disgusting! I’d rather he… hmmm…”. The young man smiled and asked, “Do you have a crush on him?” Scarlett smiled slightly and mumbled, “Maybe…”. Then she turned to him. “Anyway, I will help you. But, I want intel”.

After they agreed on collaborating, she escorted him out and sighed. “Benjamin!” She entered his room and growled as she saw him masturbating. “Stop that!!!”, she shouted before slamming her foot down on his laptop, destroying it. “What the fuck?!” “It’s been a whole month and everyday I see you masturbating over old women instead of going after the woman in front of you!!!” Ben was surprised. “Wait, do you like me?”, he asked. “M-Maybe…!”

He stood up and nodded before walking out of the room. Scarlett’s eyes widened. “Ben…?!” “Don’t follow me!!!” He opened a bottle of whiskey and drank it as he walked down the halls, shaking his head. As soon as she confessed to him, his mind went straight to Crimson Countess’ betrayal. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like Scarlett, the two had gotten close during the last month. But he couldn’t be in a relationship again. He couldn’t be betrayed again.

Meanwhile, Scarlett was sat at her desk and looked through any surveillance footage she could find of Homelander committing any crimes. She saved it all onto one USB stick and smirked. “This should be fun, especially since his sexual activities with Stormfront are on here”. Then she sighed and sat back down, putting her feet up, before calling Annie. ‘Hello? Is everything okay, Scarlett?’ “I have a ton of dirt on Homelander… should I make this public now?”

‘Scarlett… you sound heartbroken’. Her eyes widened and she said, “I’m fine. Just answer the question”. Ben walked back into her office and watched her. ‘No, not until we got Neuman into your prison’. She giggled and said, “Okay then~. Just let me know, because I have a USB stick full of footage of him committing all sorts of crimes~! Haha!” Then she ended the call before looking at Ben with a harsh glare. “What do you want?” “I just want to talk…”.

She held her hand out, indicating that he could sit in the chair. “Listen… I can’t be in a relationship. Not after Countess betrayed me”. Scarlett scoffed and asked, “Do you honestly think I’m anything like that whore? You must be joking! I may not be perfect and slightly insane… but I would never hurt or betray you”. Ben smiled and said, “I know you wouldn’t. I suppose I just need to think about this because I feel like I can’t trust anyone anymore”. “I understand…”.

After that, Ben went into his room and started to think about everything that had happened to him. And it all proved that he couldn’t trust anyone, not anymore. But whenever he thought about Scarlett, he realised how honest she was with him. She may have been insane, but she never lied to him. Not once. He smiled to himself and nodded before throwing away his porn magazines. He sighed and mumbled, “… I think I have Stockholm Syndrome”.

“YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?!!!”

Ben heard Scarlett scream and he walked out of his room to find her on the phone, her nails digging into the table. “If I take that shit… then I’m no better than the assholes I lock away, you hear me?!! There’s a reason why I refused to take it in the first place, Ashley!!!” Then she leaned back and laughed softly before asking, “Do you honestly think you can bribe me with fame? I already have Homelander’s name on one of my cells! Do you want to risk me killing him?!”

Her pupils dilated and she shouted, “I’LL KILL YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING BITCH!!!” Then she slammed the her phone down on the table before raising her leg up and then slamming her heel onto it, smashing it into pieces. The other guards were shaking in fear as she played with her riding crop while gritting her teeth. “M-Ma’am?” Scarlett then folded her arms and said, “Full lockdown of the prison”. “But we need—!” “JUST FUCKING DO IT!!!”

Unbreakable shields went over every cell and she looked at Ben before saying, “Come with me”. He grabbed his shield as she unlocked a secret passageway and followed her into it. “Where are we going?” “Ashley wanted me to take the V, but I refused… so she’s sending Homelander down here to make me”. As soon as they walked into a room filled with security screens, another unbreakable door locked them in. “No human can get in… or out”.

She sat down in her chair and he asked, “What are we supposed to do?” Her eyes darkened. “Oh, my dear Soldier Boy. Your job is to protect me~. My job is to make this as entertaining as possible~!” She said that with joy in her voice, but in reality… she was absolutely terrified. He leaned down and looked at her before asking, “Are you okay?” Scarlett then looked down and whispered something. “What…?” “Ben… I’m terrified. H-He killed my parents…”.

His eyes widened. “Why?” “I don’t know, I was too young… but he never got charged with murder. It was ‘collateral damage’ and that bitch, Stillwell, covered it up. And to stop me from taking action when I was old enough, she gave me this job. I took all of my fury out on every Supe that came down here. It drove me insane! That’s why I am the way that I am”. Then she looked at the monitors. “But now… I can turn him into my bitch”, she said, watching the entrance.

Homelander looked at the monitor when it turned on and saw the Warden looking at him. “Why hello there Homelander~, whatever are you doing here?”, she asked with a false smile. “You know why I’m here. You refused to take the V and now I’m here to make you take it”. She laughed and said, “If you want to try, go ahead~! But just know that you won’t get very far~! This place is completely Supe-proof, thanks to me~!” He nodded and said, “Just open the fucking door!!!”

The shield door opened up and he walked through, the door closing behind him. Scarlett then pushed a button and said, “Oh… and by the way, you’re not allowed to use your powers~!” Gas filled the room and Homelander fell to the floor, coughing before glaring at the monitor. “Y-You bitch…!!!” His eyes started to glow but then his eyes turned blue again. “What is this?!” “It’s a gas filled with Soldier Boy’s radiation! Your powers are now… almost gone!!!”

Homelander stood up again and then walked to the next shielded door. “Uh uh uh~! You have to go through the other door!” He looked at the steel door that was open for him and walked through it to see a camera, along with a name plate that read ‘John’. “What is this?” “Oh?! You have to take a mugshot! Show us who you really are…! You are… NOT a Hero! You are a criminal!” His eyes widened. “Who’s with you?!” “None of your business! Now take a photo!!!”

Ben watched as he did as she asked and smirked before hitting the mute button. “You’re making him look like a complete asshole”. Then she stood up and grabbed his arm, making him look at her. “I’m sorry, but I love you Ben”. She kissed him sweetly and he kissed back in response before saying, “I won’t be able to say it right away, but I will someday”. Tears ran down her cheeks as she smiled and he kissed her cheek. “Let’s get this asshole behind bars, huh?”

“I’ve done it!!! You happy?!!” She looked through the camera and giggled as she wiped her tears away before looking through the camera again. He showed her photo and she smiled. “Perfect! You made yourself look like a true criminal… which is exactly what you are~!” The next door opened and Homelander walked in to find two syringes. “What the fuck?” “Oh yes! This is like Russian Roulette! One will eliminate all of your powers! Choose wisely~!”

He looked at the very similar syringes and gulped before choosing the one on the right. Then he inserted the needle into his skin, hissing as the fluid entered his bloodstream. That’s when he heard laughing and he looked at the monitor. Scarlett had gone hysterical and she said, “William Butcher is gonna love this!!! Both of them had the ability to completely destroy your Superhero powers and you picked the strongest one!!! They’re gone forever!!!”

Homelander’s eyes widened. “Y-You were working for him?!!” “Working WITH him, because we share a common enemy! … You”. He asked, “What did I do to you?” Scarlett then said, “You murdered my parents when I was younger. Call it what you want, but that was straight up murder and you deserve to have your powers taken away from you”. Another door opened and he walked through it, to find Soldier Boy there. “What are you doing here?” “Protecting her”.

John laughed and said, “A weak human?!” “That’s what you are… right now. But only temporarily”. “Temporarily?” Ben nodded and said, “Right now, your crimes are being broadcasted to the whole world. Everyone hates you”. Then the monitor showed him what the news and his eyes widened. “No… NO!” The doors opened and Scarlett walked out, holding a pair of handcuffs. “Cuff him up”. He nodded and did as he was instructed. “BASTARD!!!”

Scarlett then kicked John down and put her heel in his face before laughing. “You’re in cuffs that you can’t break, even as a Supe! And soon, you’ll be in a cage that’s impenetrable!!!” That’s when Ashley walked in and asked, “What the fuck have you done to him?!” “What had to be done…”, she stated, slapping John with her riding crop. He cried out in pain and asked, “What… is that?” “It has Ben’s blood running through it, with all of his radiation~!”

“And… NOW YOU’RE GOING TO JAIL!!!”, she shouted as she pointed at him with a malicious grin on her face. Ben looked at Ashley and said, “There’s nothing you can do anymore. He’s down”. She gasped and stood back as guards took him away. “But Vought… my job… I’m the CEO, Ripley!!!” “Do you honestly think I care? I wanted my revenge, Butcher wanted his revenge, a lot of people wanted revenge. He’s a cockroach in your organisation”.

Then she slapped her riding crop against her hand and smirked. “Also… I work for Grace Mallory, not you. You’re nothing but a fucking coward!” Ashley then ran away, just as Grace walked in with Butcher. “So… you actually did it”. “Yes, I did! Take him away!!! Unless… you wanna beat him up?”, Scarlett offered Butcher. “Nah… he ain’t worth it no more”. The guards took John away and Grace said, “We both have your thanks, Ripley. But Neuman is on the rise”.

“I’m aware and don’t worry! I’ll get dirt on her~!” The two left and she sighed softly. Ben asked, “Are you satisfied?” “No… I’d rather kill him. But, I think this kind of punishment is tons better~!!!” Then she leaned on him and said, “But… I do wish I could let you go”. He chuckled and shook his head. “I enjoy working with you actually. I thought you were insane at first, but I now know that there’s a reason behind what you do. And I’ll stay by your side until the end”.

“Thank you Ben”.

END

#the boys #soldier boy #oc #original character #soldier boy x oc #homelander #william butcher #grace mallory #ashley barrett #victoria neuman #vought

[whereismymindnow]

I'm trying to write something for The Boys since I had an OC inspiration and vivid dream of her story... 🤷

It's proving difficult to write because I want to do the existing characters justice, but imma keep trying 🤣

The OC is going to be Annie's cousin with a lovely troubled history and powers that she may not use for the greater good... if I get to a stage that I feel I can upload haha 😈

#the boys fanfic #the boys fic #homelander x reader #homelander x original female character #black noir x reader #black noir x original female character